He’d forgotten what it was like back then. Now, responsibilities, worries, and the weight of not only his country’s future but his family’s were heavy on his shoulders. He’d forgotten how free he’d felt when he’d been around her.
But that was then and this was now. Gone was the blondness of her hair, which had darkened to a honeyed brown. Maturity had sharpened the lines of her face and given her character. Her eyes were just as blue, but they were no longer innocent. Knowledge of the world, of herself, had created shadows in their depth.
“I don’t need this discussion right now, my lord,” she said.
“I’m not here to discuss anything,” he said, suddenly concerned he’d be dismissed. He needed to talk to her. Hewantedto.
And then tears came to her eyes. Large, luminous ones that she struggled to hold back.
Like most men, Neal didn’t know what to do in the face of a female’s tears. His sister, Margaret, rarely cried. She was too proud. Considering the set down Thea had given him only an hour ago,Neal had assumed that she was as proud, unless something had broken her spirit.
He didn’t think it was himself ... or at least he hoped it wasn’t.
Neal took a step up the staircase toward her. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing,”she said, the tension in the word so tight that something had to be wrong.
“Mrs. Gray took all our money,” a voice from her side said.
Neal was startled to realize they weren’t alone. He’d been so focused on Thea that he hadn’t noticed the two small beings who stood on either side of her.
Both had flaxen blonde hair and eyes as blue as their mother’s. The youngest had a death grip on Thea’s skirts, his wary expression telling Neal he wasn’t about to trust him any more than his parent did.
The other was bolder. He was the one who had spoken. He’d stepped forward to make his announcement, his body taut from the top of his head to the fists he clenched at his side.
There was no doubt these were her sons. They shared her refined features and determined chin.
Neal didn’t come in contact with many children. He had few relatives, and they were allaged. His day-to-day activities rarely brought him within close proximity of children and, although he saw them on the street or in shops, he rarely talked to them—even if he wanted sons of his own ... desperately.
His desire to father a child was more than just a need to fulfill the obligations he owed his family name and title. He yearned for children in a way he didn’t understand.
He now found himself both charmed and curious by these two boys. They were more than copies of their mother. They were independent souls, souls created from the spark of a connection and little more.
“Mrs. Gray stole your money?” Neal repeated, addressing the child directly while wondering who this woman was. “Did you see her take the money?”
To his surprise the youngest answered, the words coming out of his mouth so fast they tumbled over each other in his earnestness. “Yes, we did. She took the money. We told her not to, but she didn’t listen to us. Jonny told her.”
“Who is this Mrs. Gray?” Neal demanded, insulted for the boys.
“This isn’t your concern, my lord,” Thea snapped, even as her youngest answered, “Thelady. Mrs. Gray. She took all our money. We don’t have any.”
“Chris, quiet,” Jonny ordered.
His brother’s response was to bury his face in his mother’s skirts but not before he explained, “We can’t catch her. She’s gone.”
Jonny was furious that his order had been ignored. He took a step toward his brother, but Thea’s hand on his shoulder stayed him, and Neal was reminded of his own battles with his brother. He and Harry were as close as two brothers could be and as far apart.
“Who is this Mrs. Gray?” Neal asked again, ready to charge after the woman.
Thea said, “I am handling the matter, my lord. This is none of your affair. Is there some outstanding business between us you wished to convey? Although I don’t understand why there should be.” She’d started down the last of the steps, brushing him aside as she made her way through the open apartment door, shooing her boys in ahead of her. They obeyed, the oldest taking the youngest’s hand. Seeing they were safe, she turned, blocking Neal from entering the flat by leaning one hand on the door. “I thought I made myself very clear this afternoon.”
“You did,” Neal said.
“Then we have nothing else to say to each other,” she informed him crisply.
“Actually, we do. You misunderstood me in Sir James’s office. I am serious in my need for a wife, and you are not in a position to toss aside opportunities,” he said, pointing to the empty wooden box she held in her arms.
Her chin lifted. A flash of new insult lit her eyes.
