The maid slipped a nightshirt over the boy’s head, and Mrs. Sorley inspected behind Tom’s ears and the back of his neck. “There, that’s a good lad. You can eat now. We need to get some meat on your bones.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tom polished off the first helping of milk and bread. Then he was given some cheese and a piece of chicken before having his face and hands wiped. One of the maids took him to a bedchamber.
Mrs. Sorley stood at the door with her arms crossed over her massive chest. “A little bit of a mystery you’ve got there, my lord.”
“What do you mean?” Dom had been watching the child go up the stairs, but now turned to his housekeeper.
“Did you not pay attention to the way he started to talk?”
Dom thought back to their conversation about bathing. Of course, he had lost his Cockney speech. “It was almost refined.”
She nodded as if he had passed a test. Maybe he had. “What else did I fail to notice?”
“His hands have long fingers, well made, and he looks just like any other little boy in Mayfair.”
“Someone’s by-blow?”
“Could be.” She shrugged. “Something for you to figure out.”
“I could hire someone.”
“You could, but it wouldn’t take much time and you might learn something from it.” It was clear from her tone that she wanted him to investigate the matter himself.
He frowned.
“Your father would have done it himself.”
He just stopped his jaw from dropping. Hardly anyone mentioned his father, but he had never thought to ask why. Perhaps it was time for things to change. “Why bring up my father now?”
She shrugged again. “The senior staff knew your father all his life. But when Lord Alasdair moved in, he gave orders that we weren’t to talk about him. Well, Lord Alasdair’s not with us anymore. Now I’ve got work to do, and her ladyship says she’ll join you for luncheon.”
Dom walked slowly up the stairs. His first priority was to find out what he could about young Tom, right after he arranged to stand up with Thea tonight. He should not dance with her. He told himself it was his duty to ensure she had someone to dance with other than him, but trying to justify that reasoning became too convoluted even for Dom. The unadorned truth was he wanted to hold her and be with her in the only socially acceptable manner possible.
It was hard to believe he had only known her for a week, yet she’d taken over his thoughts—a small chirp made him look down and he patted the cat—and his life as well.
When Dom entered Rutherford’s ballroom that evening, he took stock of the crowd and was pleased to find not many young gentlemen were present. Two seconds later he glimpsed Thea with some other young ladies.
Heedless of the others in the room, he strode straight to her. “Miss Stern?”
She glanced up and smiled. “Good evening, my lord. It’s a pleasure to see you here.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Unable to resist, he raised her fingers to his lips. “Do you still have the supper dance available?”
“I do.” A light blush colored her cheeks.
None of the other young ladies were talking. Instead they appeared to be focused on Thea and him.
His chest tightened, making breathing more difficult than it should be. “Will you save the set for me?”
She looked directly into his eyes before answering firmly. “Yes. I will.”
“Thank you.” As he grazed her hand with the pad of his thumb, he wondered what she had seen that had decided her.
She drew a sharp breath, and her fingers trembled slightly at his touch. If only he could drag her into his arms, he’d nibble her creamy neck and . . . This was not helping.
He had absolutely no desire to dance with any other lady than Thea. Perhaps he could hide in the card room until it was time to claim her. Yet if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to see her. But did he really want to watch as she stood up with another man? He had to be going mad.
Devil take it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Worthington coming his way. Two dances. Dom wanted two, but he had to hurry. “Will you stand up with me for the first waltz as well?”
