Chapter 18

18

T homas watched as Tricia succumbed to sleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. Her face, relaxed in the throes of slumber, was a sight he could never tire of.

He traced the curve of her cheek with his fingers, captivated by how peaceful she looked. Her plump lips were slightly parted as she slept, the evidence of their passion visible on her flushed skin. He couldn't help but lean over and brush his lips against hers lightly. She stirred slightly at his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips before she settled back into sleep.

Thomas's heart constricted at that moment with a feeling that was both unfamiliar and overwhelming. It was something deep and profound—silent words that encapsulated everything he felt but couldn't express.

With a smile, he moved closer to Tricia and wrapped his arm around her sleeping form. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, but he had business to attend to.

The men would be returning from the hunt, and he needed to speak with Polk's father.

Funny how his own father hadn't mentioned any border and water dispute to him. So odd as well that he hadn't mentioned he'd been feeling unwell.

Thomas dressed and then walked swiftly into his dressing room where he found his valet preparing for his evening dress.

"Longbottom," he said.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I have…a guest in my bedchamber. I prefer that she not be disturbed. It is a lady of the peerage who is a guest at this party. I trust I can count on your discretion?"

"As always, my lord." Longbottom bowed.

"If she does awake, I trust you can ring for her maid to help her dress?"

Longbottom cleared his throat. "Of course, my lord."

"Thank you. It is not my wish to leave her alone, however I have business that cannot wait."

"I understand perfectly, my lord." He approached Thomas, eyeing his cravat. "If I may?"

"Yes, please. I mustn't look rustled."

"Of course not, my lord."

Longbottom's deft fingers got Thomas's cravat fixed in short order, and he also ran a soft brush through Thomas's hair.

"You do have need of a haircut, my lord."

"You know I like to wear it a bit longer than fashionable," Thomas said.

"You are the earl now," Longbottom reminded him.

"Yes, and as the earl, I expect my own wishes to be followed, Longbottom. Thank you."

The valet bowed his head. "As always, my lord."

Longbottom had been Thomas's valet since he came of age. He was about ten years older than Thomas and the son of the late earl's valet. His father, now retired, had asked to take over as Thomas's valet when the earl passed, but Thomas had insisted that he remain on the estate, all expenses paid for, and live out his senior years with the rest he deserved.

It was nearing the hour of five, and the men should be returning from the hunt shortly in order to rest and prepare for the evening meal, which would begin promptly at eight bells.

Sure enough, once Thomas descended, he heard the carriages rolling in from the hunt.

The men disembarked, and then the servants drove the carriages onward toward the stables, where they would care for the horses and do the required cleaning.

The men were jovial and in good spirits as they entered the mansion, most of them heading to their chambers to clean up and perhaps take a short repose before dinnertime.

Women scurried about as well, up from their nappings after lunchtime and sitting in the parlor, where various young ladies showed off their skills on the pianoforte.

"I say, Ashford," a young lord said to Thomas. "You missed a damned fine hunt."

"I daresay I shall attend the next," Thomas said. "I'm glad you had a good day." Through the crowd assembling in the foyer, servants attending to them, Thomas finally spied Viscount Polk still on the veranda, and he was talking to his son and Jonathan.

Odd , Thomas thought to himself, but that was as far as he thought as he strode out the doorway, mumbling salutations to people as he passed.

"Polk," he said loudly.

Both the viscount, Hawthorne Polk, and his son looked up, raising their eyebrows.

"Ashford," the elder Polk said. "Fine hunt today. So sorry you missed it."

"Yes, yes, so I've heard. 'Tis a shame your son and my cousin missed it as well."

Viscount Polk coughed into a hanky. "Yes, yes. You know young people."

What in the world did that mean? Thomas didn't have time to dwell on it.

"If you have a minute," Thomas said to Viscount Polk, "I should like to see you in my study if I may."

"About what?"

"About some border and water disputes that you were having with my father before his untimely demise. Odd that he didn't mention them to me."

"Oh yes, yes." Polk coughed into his hanky once more. "We got all that settled between Crispin and myself. No need to worry about it."

"I'm afraid I am worried about it," Thomas said. "My father told me nothing about anything of the sort."

"It only just came about shortly before his death, but we came to peace on the matter."

"I'm very glad to hear that," Thomas said, "but I would like to speak to you about it straightaway anyway. In my study, shall we?"

"Really, Ashford," the younger Polk said. "Can't you see my father has need to retire? Being out all day has his asthma acting up."

Thomas resisted rolling his eyes. What was going on here?

And why…

Why had Victor Polk and Jonathan been near his study earlier?

And why had the study been unlocked?

Chills gripped the back of Thomas's neck.

Something was afoot here. And he had a feeling his friend and cousin knew more than they were letting on.

"I should only take a few moments of your time, Viscount," Thomas said again.

"What about after dinner?" Viscount Polk said. "Over brandy and cigars. After I'm well rested, with a full belly."

This time, Thomas couldn't hold back his eye roll. "Fine, fine. After dinner."

He turned and walked back into the house.

Something was going on, and he aimed to find out exactly what it was.