Case in point, Thomas had returned to the country at Beth’s bidding that she and Nora simplymustlearn to waltz or they would be an embarrassment. Of course, neither the viscountess nor Nora’s mother would permit the girls to learn the steps, so Thomas was summoned and dubbed their new instructor. He grumbled an appropriate amount, but even Nora could tell he was enjoying himself.
Nearly as much as Nora was.
She loved Beth, but there was no denying that another draw for her visits to Glen House were the chances to see Thomas.
The years had brought them closer, their shared adoration for Beth bonded them, his kindness endeared him to her, andthe way he held her there in that sunny music room made her feel all kinds of new and thrilling things.
Somewhere between their first meeting and that first failed waltz, her heart had fallen hard for him. And, though she was admittedly naive to much of the world, she liked to believe that he felt a little of the same. She read it in the way she caught him watching her, the gentleness of his tone when he spoke to her, the way he smiled at her, the way he so obviously enjoyed making her laugh, and how close he held her just then…when his ice-blue eyes kept flitting down to her mouth. Thomas frequently sought her out during his visits home—and not only when she was in the company of his sister.
Beth was often urged by her mother to take a rest in the afternoon; this was most often when Thomas came to Nora. He walked with her in the orchard, scaling the limbs in his shirtsleeves with lithe grace and plucking ripe fruit for her pleasure. He never spoke over her or made her feel like a silly girl, inclining his head with the most intent, sincere glimmer in his entrancing eyes. In fact, he seemed to file away what he learned about her passions and interests, retrieving the knowledge and subtly displaying it in whatever token or treat he brought back with him from Town. The back of his hand had brushed hers on far too many occasions for it to have been accidental; it was the same with the way thumb was currently caressing her back where he held her as they attempted to stumble through the dance. It was no accident or coincidence. Thomas was nothing if not intentional in everything he did.
“Lady Beth.”
Nora jolted back from Thomas’s embrace as if a white-hot current of lightning had separated them instead of the voice of one of the maids. The young woman advised Beth that the seamstress had arrived and her presence was required for fittings and alterations.
“How unfortunate,” sighed Beth. She’d moved from the pianoforte to a sofa and her slim, fragile frame slumped back into the cradle of cushions piled around her.
Meanwhile, Thomas’s palm had yet to remove itself from the curve of Nora’s lower back, masked from their audience by the angle at which they stood. Her entire body tingled, the ripples of it emanating from the warm plane of his palm, seeping through the layers of her clothing.
“I’ll spare you, Nora,” Beth said in a rather magnanimous tone. “The weather is so fine and I know how you enjoy your walks. Save yourself and enjoy your freedom whilst I am Mother’s captive for the next three hours.”
“So dramatic,” Nora giggled.
“You really should consider a career on the stage,” Thomas added with a quirk of his brow.
“Wouldn’t that be quite the sight?” Nora and Thomas shared a conspiratorial smile. “Beth would no doubt send the viscountess into conniptions while winning over the hearts of all of London.”
“Poor Mother. She’d never survive her daughter’s success.” The gravity in Thomas’s tone was finally enough to break her resolve. A little unladylike snort of laughter sneaked past her barriers.
“Laugh away,” Beth said, standing and waving off their jest while she shook the wrinkles from her pale pink dress. “Maybe you two had best continue your dancing practice. Three hours should be sufficient time to become less laughable in your efforts.” From anyone else, the words might have been biting. From Beth, however, they were infused with her uniquely dry sense of humor, underscored by the most breathtaking depth of love.
“Doubtful,” Nora murmured, her heart skipping dangerously when Thomas’s hand curved around her waist in an intimately affectionate gesture. “I’d much rather—”
“Take a turn around the gardens?” Thomas finished for her, turning to look down into her face with a gentle, knowing smile.
He’d already begun guiding her to the door when she began to nod.
They walked and chatted, but Nora quickly recognized an unfamiliar reticence in Thomas’s demeanor. He nodded and smiled at all the right times, he escorted her with all his usual grace and attentiveness, but she’d come to know him well enough at that point to say with confidence that something had driven him to distraction.
She halted her steps and a small frown knitted Thomas’s dark brows together. “What troubles you so?” The words were more statement than question as if his honest reply was a foregone conclusion—there was no question that something was wrong, only the unknown cause.
Thomas loosed an exasperated breath of resigned laughter. “I should have known…” He gave a little shake of his head and guided her to a nearby bench.
“Should have known what?” She tried to keep her tone light, but the penetrating way Thomas was gazing at her was as palpable as a fingertip upon her skin.
“That you would…never you mind.”
Nora was annoyed by his vagueness, but she settled for smoothing her pale lavender skirts and biting the inside ofher cheek. There was clearly something of gravity on Thomas’s mind.
“Don’t become sullen,” Thomas said lightly, capturing one of her hands in his. Neither of them wore gloves and the sensation of his hot skin on hers was absurdly thrilling. Her eyes were riveted upon the sight of their clasped hands; her breath stopped when his fingers wove through hers.
“Nora…” Thomas rasped.
With some difficulty, she looked up into his dear face, now so close to hers that she could see the deep blue streaks in the icy discs of his irises, the strong brow and bold nose, his expressive mouth set above his handsomely angular jaw. There was something in his eyes she did not recognize—something powerful enough that made her feel as if they were teetering at a precipice…and whatever was about to transpire would change them forever.
“Thomas…” His name upon her lips was a plea that made his eyelids flutter and his fingers tighten between hers.
Her grip tightened, too.
