Charlotte stuck a finger in her book and glanced at Dotty. “Do you plan on making him one of your projects?”
She poured a cup of tea, taking her time adding the sugar and the sweet milk they preferred to cream. “Perhaps. Do you have any objections?”
Louisa harrumphed. “You are in Town to look for a husband, not fix Merton’s life.”
“That might,” Charlotte said softly, “be too large an undertaking even for you.”
“Matt says Merton has no heart,” Louisa stated firmly.
Yet Merton did not seem uncaring. He’d been nice to her and even let Cyrille drive with him. “How did Matt come to that conclusion?”
“Merton’s votes in the Lords.” Louisa took a drink from the glass of water on the table next to her. “He supports bills that harm those less fortunate than we are.”
Charlotte nodded. “Actions speak louder than words.”
Dotty pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She knew what legislation that was. Harsh laws had been passed allowing death or transportation for even relatively minor offences of the law. She could not even think of marrying a man who was so blind to the suffering of others. Yet she was not convinced he was so hard-hearted. There really was much more to Lord Merton than met the eye. He seemed to show one side to her and another to everyone else. Almost as if he was two different people. Or was she simply being naïve? After all, Matt would not lie about Merton’s votes. Perhaps he was not for her after all.
Unfortunately, she could not discuss him with her friends. “Well, until I meet a gentleman I am interested in, I can still help Merton.”
Charlotte returned to her book.
“If that’s the way you wish to spend your time, so be it.” Louisa shrugged. “It cannot hurt anyone and may actually be of benefit to him. You could help him find a wife other than the ladies he has been looking at.”
“What an excellent idea.” Dotty could help him find a lady who was not as vehement in her ideas as she was. “I shall begin casting around tonight. There must be someone who would be good for him.”
After all, he was so handsome with his strong features and aquiline nose. And when he gazed at her, his eyes reminded her of the deep blue of the ocean she had seen in a painting. If only she had someone to confide in about him.
* * *
Dom returned to Grosvenor Square intending to barricade himself in his study. Thea—he really should not have started thinking of her by that name—was interfering with his work and his search for a wife. This afternoon when he’d stared down at her, all he wanted to do was cover her deep pink lips with his own. He had tried to ignore the voice of his uncle telling him duty came before all else and that strong emotion interfered with one’s obligations. Why the devil couldn’t what he wanted and what he should do march together? They always had before. Yet, despite all his uncle’s warnings, he desired nothing more than to make Thea his.
Uncle Alasdair wasn’t the only problem. Given an opportunity, Worthington would try to queer Dom’s suit. If he wasn’t so far under her spell, he’d let his cousin do his worst. He’d already had a glimpse of what life would be like with her. His house would be full of strays, charity meetings, and who knew what else. She would be after him to support the Whig causes, possibly even Radical ones as well. His ordered life would be total chaos.
Blast it to hell. He needed to remember that Miss Stern was not,noteligible to be his bride. But no matter how often he repeated that to himself, it didn’t change the fact he wanted her. Badly.
He raked his fingers through his hair and reached for a bottle of brandy, only to find it wasn’t there. If only all that misplaced compassion wasn’t packaged in such a perfect form. Breasts that begged him to touch and explore. Eyes that shamed emeralds. Curls he wanted to wrap around his fingers as he drew her to him. His groin jerked. He tugged hard on the bell pull.
The door opened immediately. “My lord?”
“Bring me a bottle of brandy.”
The footman’s jaw dropped. Dom almost never partook of strong drink before evening. But damn it, this is what she was driving him to. “You heard me.”
“Y-yes, my lord. Right away.”
What seemed like an inordinate amount of time later the door finally opened. He had never known his servants to be so slow in carrying out his wishes.
He let out a low growl. “What kept you?”
“Dominic, since when have you begun drinking brandy during the day?”
He whirled around. His mother followed by a footman entered the study.
“I—um.” This was his house and he was an adult. Why was he searching for excuses to make to his mother, and who the hell called her down? “I felt like it.”
She smiled gently and signaled for the servant to place the tray on a low table next to a sofa. “I thought I would join you. It is almost time for tea in any event.”
The tray held tarts, biscuits, sherry, and brandy.
