Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(77)

Emma scowled. “I don't know how to talk to them.”

“All you need is some practice.”

“Papa said he wouldn't insist that I go if I didn't want to.”

“I insist,” Tasia said quietly. She saw the flash of surprise on the girl's face, and continued before Emma had a chance to respond. “We'll have a new dress made for you. I saw a beautiful color of silk in Mr. Hodding's shop, the shade of a ripe peach. It would be perfect with your hair.”

Emma was shaking her head. “Belle-mère, I can't—”

“Just try,” Tasia coaxed. “What's the worst that could happen?”

“I'll have a dreadful time.”

“I think you could survive one dreadful evening. Besides…you may even enjoy yourself.”

Emma groaned theatrically and occupied herself with rearranging the row of dolls. Tasia smiled, knowing her silence meant she would attend the party.

Luke sighed in relief as he closed the bedroom door, shutting out the rest of the world. He had spent yet another full day in meetings with bankers, lawyers, and businessmen. The endless haggling had tired and annoyed him. Not only did he serve on the boards of a railway company and a brewery, but he had reluctantly accepted a directorship at an insurance office.

He disliked the world of finance, preferring the role of gentleman landowner that had been passed down through his family for generations. He was not inspired by stocks and shares. He took satisfaction in plowed fields, growing crops, and a good harvest. But it was no longer possible to survive on agricultural rents alone. For the sake of his tenants as well as his family, he had invested in urban properties, factories, and railway stock, which brought in enough money to allow him to keep the rents low and make improvements on Stokehurst land.

The old gentry had mocked Luke for succumbing to the vulgar mercantile pursuit of wealth, but he had seen their estates shrink, their rent rolls plummet, and their tenants go bankrupt. Society was transforming rapidly, the aristocratic way of life crumbling as industrialists rose to prominence. Many a noble family who had once possessed unthinkable wealth had become penniless, because they wouldn't react to the changes around them. Luke wouldn't let that happen to the people who depended on him. His land would never turn to overgrown weed. And his daughter would never be obliged to marry someone for his wealth. With all that in mind, becoming a businessman—unappealing as it was—seemed a small price to pay.

Luke smiled at the sight of his wife dressed in a modest white nightgown with white lace at the throat. Tasia's beautiful hair was loose and flowing, shining in the lamplight. She sat in bed with a book in her lap. “You were missed at supper,” she said.

There was something different in her voice, a note of tension. He wondered if she was angry at having seen so little of him lately. “I wish I'd been here,” he replied. “Instead I passed the time with a group of men who spent the evening arguing over the price of wheat and the comparative merits of their stockbrokers.”

“And what did you all conclude?”

“That the old order is vanishing, as well as the concept of farming for profit.” Luke frowned pensively, shrugging out of his coat. “I won't have the kind of life my father and grandfather had. Certainly not their leisure. My father has spent his life pursuing women, hunting, and shooting, and occasionally dabbling in politics. He thinks my involvement in trade and industry is tarnishing the family honor.”

Tasia left the bed and came to help him with his clothes. She unbuttoned his shirt as he spoke. “But you are doing it for the good of the family, yes?” Spreading his shirt wide, she pressed a kiss to the hard, smooth surface of his chest.

“Yes.” Luke smiled and tangled his fingers in her hair, tilting her head back. “And I resent every minute I have to spend away from you.”

Tasia slid her arms around his lean waist. “So do I.”

“Is that what's bothering you?” he asked. “That I've been gone so much of the time lately?”

“Nothing is bothering me. Everything is absolutely fine.”

“No lies,” he reminded her quietly, and she blushed.

“There is something I've been concerned about…” Her throat worked as she sought the right words. “I'm late,” she said, her face bathed in hot color.

Luke shook his head, puzzled. “Late for what?”

“My…monthly time,” she said with difficulty. “It should have come a week ago. I've always been…irregular that way, but still…it's never been this long. It's nothing, I'm certain. I really don't think it's a…a…”

“Baby?” he suggested softly.

“It's too soon for that. I don't feel any different, and I'm certain I would feel something if it were that.”

He was quiet, stroking her hair, fondling the curve of her ear.

“Would you mind?” Tasia asked in a small voice.

Luke stared at her until she was dizzy from the blue intensity of his eyes. “It would be the greatest joy of my life.” He leaned his forehead on hers. “Whatever happens, we'll face it together. All right?”

She nodded. “You want a baby, then?”

His brow furrowed as he contemplated the question. “I haven't thought about it very much,” he admitted. “I never expected to have any children except Emma. The idea of another…” He paused and smiled crookedly. “Half me, half you…yes, I want that. But I would prefer to have more time alone with you before we start having children. You're hardly more than a child yourself. I'd like to give you the chance to be young and carefree—something you've missed until now. I want to make up for the hell you've been through. I want to make you happy.”