Chapter 9

9

T homas adjusted his trousers, his groin aching. If he weren't the host of this dratted ball, he would go to his chamber and relieve himself quickly. He drew in several deep breaths, adjusted his cravat, and headed down the first flight of stairs toward the third floor, the air drifting about him smelling of Tricia.

All he needed to get his cock going again.

He entered the ballroom and grabbed the first glass of wine he saw. He drained it in one gulp.

"I say, Ashford," said a voice from behind him.

It was Cameron's grandfather, Beauregard Adams, the Marquess of Denbigh. He was still a sturdy man in his early seventies with a shock of white hair and silver-blue eyes that his grandson had inherited.

"Denbigh, good to see you."

"Jolly good party." Denbigh surveyed the room. "I daresay you could find a potential mate among all these lovelies."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Are you going to drill that into me as well? It's bad enough I've had every debutante's mother in London trying to catch my eye tonight."

Denbigh grinned. "It's the way of things, you know. There are quite a few beauties here."

"Have you thought about taking another wife?" Thomas asked.

"No, I'm happy to be alone in my old age. And of course there's my mother to think of."

Denbigh's mother, the dowager marchioness, was nearing ninety and was confined to a wheelchair. She hadn't made the trip to Hampshire and was at home in Bath with her caretakers.

"I wonder if my mother will ever remarry," Thomas said, more to himself than to Denbigh.

"She is a lovely thing, your mother." Denbigh cocked his eyebrow. "Do you think she wants to remarry?"

Good God, what had Thomas started? The last thing he wanted Denbigh to think was that he was looking for a suitor for his mother.

"I doubt it," Thomas said. "She was utterly devoted to Father."

"And of course you'll see that she's always taken care of," Denbigh said.

Thomas nodded. "Of course. She will always have a home here at this estate, and in our many properties in London and abroad." Thomas glanced about, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tricia.

Where had she gone?

But before he could find her, a lady approached him with who he presumed to be her daughter.

"Lord Ashford," the older woman said, "and Lord Denbigh. How wonderful to see you both."

Thomas wasn't sure who the woman was, but as luck would have it, Denbigh replied to her.

"Mrs. Templeton, it is my pleasure indeed." He took the daughter's hand. "And this must be your lovely daughter. Aurora, is it?"

"Yes, my lord. I named her Aurora, after the morning dawn."

"Please allow me to make the introductions," Denbigh said. "Miss Templeton, please meet the Earl of Ashford, Thomas Jameson."

Aurora curtsied politely to Thomas. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my Lord."

She was a lovely little thing. Quite diminutive in size. Thomas, of course, was used to tall women. His sisters and mother were all tall, and so was Tricia.

But she was pleasing to look at. Miss Templeton had lovely warm brown eyes and a mahogany mane of hair that was swept up on her head into ringlets of curls.

Thomas held out his hand and took her gloved one. "Perhaps you would honor me with a dance, Miss Templeton?"

She bowed her head coyly. "It would be my honor, my lord."

Denbigh patted him on his back. "That's the way to do it, Ashford. You should be out dancing with all the young lovelies tonight."

Thomas took to the dance floor while Lord Denbigh continued to speak with Mrs. Templeton. Aurora was so small, he almost felt he was twirling nothing in his arms.

But she was truly a graceful dancer as well.

"Are you enjoying the ball, Miss Templeton?" he asked.

She smiled shyly. "I am indeed, thank you for asking, my lord."

"I'm afraid we haven't met before. Is this your first season?"

"No, I came out last season."

Odd, Thomas thought. Such a sweet little thing should surely have found a match by now. He wouldn't embarrass her by asking her about it.

However, she kept talking. "I actually had an offer of marriage from a young lord, but my mother did not think he was suitable."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and it was just as well. I didn't feel I was ready for marriage last season."

"Do you feel you are now?"

Her cheeks flushed a pale pink. "I believe I am, my lord."

He could ask her why she believed that, but frankly he did not truly care. While she was a beautiful little thing, he was feeling no spark at all having her in his arms.

When the dance ended, he deposited her back with her mother, who was still speaking with Denbigh. He bowed politely. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Templeton. It was truly my privilege. But if you'll excuse me, I am the host of this extravaganza, so I must see to my guests and also check in with my mother."

"How is the countess faring?" Mrs. Templeton asked.

"She's doing well," Thomas said. "Thank you for asking. But she does miss my father, as do I."

"Yes, of course. My own husband succumbed to consumption two years past. And I still miss him as well."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Thomas said.

Now what? Should he stay and talk to this woman? He had already excused himself.

So he simply bowed once more and walked away.

He walked toward the front of the ballroom, where he spied his mother.

"Thomas, darling boy, there you are," the countess said. "Where did you disappear to?"

"I just wanted to get a little bit of fresh air," Thomas said. "Are you feeling better after your repose, Mummy?"

"Yes, very much. Who was that young lady you were dancing with?"

"Her name is Aurora Templeton. Denbigh seemed to know who she and her mother were. But I'm not familiar with them."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Ah, yes. The Templetons. The name sounds vaguely familiar. I left the invitations solely to Maria's discretion, I'm afraid. I just didn't have it in me to take the reins this time. I hope you'll forgive me, Thomas."

Thomas took his mother's hand. "Goodness, Mummy, there's nothing to forgive. We may officially be out of mourning after a year, but that does not mean we miss Papa any less. I'm sure everyone understands, especially Maria."

Maria was head of the household, and she had been with the countess since before she married the earl.

The countess merely nodded.

Thomas regarded his beautiful mother. She was blond and blue-eyed. Rose took after her, while he and Lily had inherited their father's dark good looks.

But the dark circles under her eyes did not escape his notice.

"Mummy, no one would blame you if you retired for the evening. It's after midnight."

"Goodness, Thomas, no. I could never defy convention in that way. I'm the hostess of this event."

"You are, but I shall make excuses if you'd like."

She shook her head. "I'm perfectly fine. I don't need to be doted on. There are still several hours to go. Have you gotten enough to eat?"

"Mummy," Thomas laughed. "Has there ever been a time when I have not gotten enough to eat?"

Lady Ashford laughed. "Between you and Lily, your father and I could have exhausted our coffers purchasing food."

Lily, who was standing within earshot, walked toward them with her husband. "Mummy, Thomas," she said. "This ball is utterly fabulous."

"I echo my wife's sentiments," the duke said. "I don't think the lovely duchess and I could have put together a better ball for the opening of the season." He turned directly to Thomas, his eyebrows bouncing. "Have you spied any young ladies who are to your liking?"

Thomas resisted rolling his eyes once more. "For the love of all that is holy, is everyone determined that I take a wife tonight?"

"Well," the duke—Daniel—said, "all I can tell you is that at the first ball of the season at my estate five years past, I certainly found mine."

Lily gave him a good-natured punch on his upper arm. Thomas couldn't help laughing. His sister hadn't changed a bit, and he wouldn't have her any other way. It was clear her husband shared that sentiment.

"I suppose you know how she fought us on that one," Thomas said.

The duke laughed, the skin around his green eyes crinkling. "Do I ever. She certainly made me pay for it, but it was all well worth it, wasn't it, love?"

"Daniel, my love," Lily said, "you know I had no intention of ever marrying, but now? My life with you is everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

Daniel took Lily's hand, his gaze fixed on her lovely face. "In that case, dearest wife, would you please join me on the dance floor?"

"I never want to dance with anyone else," Lily said.

Lily and the duke walked to the dance floor just as the orchestra began to play a quadrille.

"They are so lovely together," Lady Ashford said. "When I think about how Lily fought him at first…"

"Lybrook is a good man." Thomas laughed lightly. "He's always been a good man, even when he was out chasing strumpets before he became the duke."

"Thomas, do not speak of him in that way."

"Mummy, we all know the truth of it. To say Lily tamed him is an understatement. And he tamed her as well. I can't imagine that any other person could have dealt with either of them."

Lady Ashford laughed at that. "I believe you may be right, Thomas. And then there's our Rose, so happy with her commoner, who turned out not to be a commoner after all."

One mention of Rose and her husband sent Thomas's thoughts reeling to Tricia once more. He gazed around the ballroom once again, but he could not catch a glimpse of her.

"Mummy, have you seen Lady Patricia?"

"When I returned to the ballroom, she was speaking with Rose and Cameron." Lady Ashford glanced over to her younger daughter and her husband. "She doesn't seem to be there now, though."

"I wonder where she went."

"Why are you asking?" Lady Ashford asked. "Lady Clementine isn't here either, so she's probably with her."

A sigh of relief escaped Thomas's throat. Perhaps Lady Clementine and Tricia had gone to bed.

A bit early, to be sure, but they weren't born to this. They were still probably not used to dancing until the wee hours of the morning.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he spied Lady Clementine. She was a handsome woman with black hair much like Tricia's.

"There's Clementine now," he said to his mother. "But I don't see Tricia with her."

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about." Lady Ashford waved to Lady Clementine.

Lady Clementine bustled over. "My lady," she said. "Such a lovely evening."

"Thank you," Lady Ashford said, "but Thomas and I were wondering where Tricia has gone off to."

"I'm afraid Tricia retired to her chamber," Lady Clementine said. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she was fatigued."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Lady Ashford said. "I do hope she's not falling ill."

"I don't think so. She wasn't feverish and she didn't look peaked. In fact, her cheeks were quite flushed. She just said she'd had enough for one evening, and though I asked her to stay, in the end, I let her go."

"Well, we shall see her tomorrow," Lady Ashford said. "I'm so looking forward to seeing both of you at the lawn party and luncheon for the ladies."

Yes, the lawn party for the ladies. A hunt for the gentlemen was scheduled at the same time. However, Thomas would not be attending. He had some business to deal with.

"If you'll excuse me," Lady Clementine said, "I believe I shall retire as well. Let me just go say good night to Rose and Cameron. Thank you so much for a lovely evening."

Thomas bowed. "It was our pleasure, of course."

Lady Clementine hurried over toward Rose and Cameron while Thomas turned to his mother.

"Since you insist that I should dance," he said, "do you have any recommendations for whom I should ask?"

Lady Ashford frowned. "Thomas, you know I would never dream of giving you advice on that front."

"But I'm asking for your advice, Mummy. You know I haven't courted anyone. And I do understand my duty. To take a wife and produce an heir."

"That is necessary," his mother agreed. "Otherwise, your father's earldom will pass to Jonathan."

Thomas nodded. He well knew. Because his father and mother had only produced one son, all responsibility lay with him. If only he had brothers. Not that he would trade his sisters for anything. He loved them both dearly.

"That won't happen, Mummy. I shall marry. It doesn't have to be this instant, you know."

The Dowager Countess of Ashford pursed her lips.

She wouldn't say anything, but Thomas knew what she was thinking. What if something happened to him before he could sire a son?

They all well remembered how Daniel had become the Duke of Lybrook. His brother and heir, Morgan, and their father, Charles, had perished in a terrible accident. Morgan never had a chance to be the duke. It was all thrust upon Daniel even as he was ill-prepared for it.

But Thomas had no brother.

So his duty was clear. He must marry and he must have children. And he'd better hope that at least one turned out to be a boy.

Thomas adjusted his gloves, nodded to his mother, and headed toward the first young lady he saw. "Lady Margaret, would you honor me with a dance?"

Lady Margaret Mead, a slightly curvy young lady with a spray of freckles across her pert nose, smiled brightly. "It would be an honor, my lord."

He swept Lady Margaret around the dance floor.

Then he swept another young lady, and then another.

Until it was all a blur, and he wasn't sure with whom he was dancing.