Marquesses at the Masquerade(118)

“You woke me up,” he said, giving Lucy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I was bumbling about, watching my children grow older, making brilliant, dull speeches in the Lords, and going slowly mad. Right beneath my nose is a woman whom I esteem greatly, one as ferocious as a goddess on behalf of those she loves, one who can laugh at herself and at life, one I honestly adore.”

Lucy managed to speak around the lump in her throat, for that young lady was very, very fortunate. She could not think who the lucky lady was, for Lord Tyne was discreet, and his social calendar his own.

“I’m sure you’ll make her quite happy.”

“I’m not half so confident of my success as you are.”

Hope leaped, the hope that this paragon he’d determined to court might not appreciate the gem life was handing her.

“Then the lady must be a dunderhead, sir. If she fails to appreciate you, she must be the greatest featherbrain ever to float down from on high, for I’m sure—I’m certain—that your esteem would be the most precious treasure that young lady could ever claim.”

Another silence stretched, likely relieved on his part, tortured on Lucy’s.

“Well, then,” he said. “Do I conclude that your circumstances are similar to my own? Have you determined to pursue the distant gentleman who has caught your appreciative eye?”

Must he sound so brisk, so cheerful? “You conclude correctly. I harbor little hope that he’ll ever hold me in the same regard I do him, but we respect and care for one another within the limits of our situation. I am content with that.”

Or I will learn to be. A tear trickled hotly against Lucy’s cheek. She didn’t dare raise her hand to brush it away.

“Then we can part friends and wish each other well,” his lordship said, “if you so choose, but I’d like to share with you one other aspect of my evening, before I escort you to your coach.”

Lucy nodded, all she could manage in the way of communication.

“My children accosted me as I prepared to go out for an evening at a relative’s house. They are delightful girls and blessed with the courage of their convictions. They counseled me regarding my future, in no uncertain terms, and then went giggling and conspiring on their way. I thought to be about my appointed rounds, when the children stopped me again at the foot of the stairs.”

What could the girls have been about?

“They faced a moral dilemma,” Tyne said. “Somebody about whom they care enormously had apparently made free with a possession given to me years ago. They’d seen it laid out on the lady’s bed as they’d come to my apartment to assist me with my toilette. The girls didn’t know whether to tattle, confront the thief, or hope a misunderstanding was afoot. I told them a misunderstanding was afoot.”

His voice had become painfully gentle. “I know you, Lucy Fletcher, and I know you would never, ever steal a fur-lined velvet cloak from your employer.”

Lucy Fletcher.

Mortification surged over Lucy, heating her neck and face. “I didn’t want to go to that damned masquerade, I vow this. I only went to appease a friend, and I rue… I don’t rue the decision, but I never want you to think—”

“Lucy, I know you,” he said, drawing her to her feet. “I know you are ferocious in defense of those you love. I know your integrity is bottomless. I know you have more kindness in your smallest finger than most people have in both hands. I know that if I can merely convince you to stay on as governess, then my heart and my household will be the richer for your generosity, but I also know that you kiss splendidly, and I am determined to court you.”

*



“Court me?”

Tyne took Lucy in his arms, though that overture required courage on his part. In the night shadows, he couldn’t tell consternation from disbelief from horror, and a man in love was capable of tremendous blunders.

“Yes, court you. I told myself as I made my way here that I could be the distant gentleman who’d caught your fancy—or it might be some other lucky soul. If I am not that man, I want to be him, Lucy. I want your kisses, your scolds, your future. I want to read fairy tales to you and live them with you, complete with the messy parts—the lost and sick children, the gossiping domestics, the ever-multiplying nieces and nephews. I’ve made enough grand speeches to last a lifetime, but this is the only speech that matters. May I court you?”

She put her arms around him as if weary. “You seek to court me, and you think I’m fierce.”

Her crown fit perfectly beneath his chin. “You have dragged me grumbling and fussing into being a proper father to my children. You have ensured I am not a stranger to my own siblings. You listen to the upper servants when they would drive me barking mad with their petty complaints, though they aren’t petty, of course. You have rescued me from becoming that worst affliction known to society, a speechifying politician. I’d be aiming for a Cabinet post…”

She bundled closer, and Tyne forgot all about Cabinets and posts, though the image of a bed popped into his head. His bed, with himself and Lucy beneath the covers.

“You are awful,” she said. “Why didn’t you simply reveal yourself after you’d run Giles off with your sledgehammer?”

“I thought that was Throckmorton. If he’s that easily routed, no wonder his children rule his roost.”