Page 39 of A Virgin to Tempt the Duke

That night, Thomas kept Frederick at White’s until well past midnight. He hadn’t planned it. Thomas was persuasive though, and once the second bottle was ordered, the evening was decided. It had always been this way for them.

Frederick let his mind wander as he drank, and was overcome by a memory, sharp and unbidden. He was fourteen and Thomas twelve, the two of them having agreed to an hour of fishing before returning to their studies. The agreement had been made in good faith, on Frederick’s part at least. He was less certain about Thomas. They had come back at dusk, sunburned andwith no fish nor satisfactory explanation for where the hours had gone.

Thomas refilled his glass without being asked. Frederick accepted it without comment. He settled deeper into the leather of the club chair and looked at the fire. For a while neither of them said anything, which was one of the better things about Thomas. He had never required filling silence for its own sake.

“She is doing well,” Thomas said finally.

Frederick looked at him.

“Hm?” Frederick said as he took a sip.

“Miss Cartwell.” Thomas was studying his wine with the mild attention of a man thinking about something else entirely.

“Ah. Yes, she is.”

“She is faring better than most would, in her position. She has that quality of…” He paused. “I cannot think of the word. She is not quiet in a passive sense,” Thomas continued, unfazed. “She is quiet like a person is when they are paying close attention to everything. Taking the measure of a room before committing to an opinion of it.”

“Perceptive,” Frederick said.

“Yes.” Thomas glanced at him. “She is.” He swirled his glass once, watching the wine move. “I imagine that quality makes her difficult to deceive.”

“Is that a comment about something specific, old friend?”

“Only an observation.” Thomas was the picture of innocence, which was always precisely when he was least innocent. “She is a remarkable woman. I think most people who spend more than ten minutes in her company would arrive at the same conclusion.” He paused, as though the next thing he said had only just occurred to him, when Frederick strongly suspected it was the thing he had come to say all along. “Anyone with eyes can see it.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I was curious what you see when you look, that is all.” Thomas set his glass down and regarded him with an expression of perfect calm. “You look, Frederick. I have noticed that much.”

Frederick looked at the fire and said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Or nothing, at least, that he was prepared to say here, to Thomas, with the second bottle mostly gone and the night outside the windows pressing in.

He took a sip instead.

Thomas did not push. He never pushed. Frederick frequently wished he would.

CHAPTER 15

The garden at Rathbourne House was not large, but it was formal in London fashion.

Frederick liked knowing exactly where the boundaries were. The garden boasted a paved terrace and stone urns, steps down to a narrow lawn, and a neat hedge along the back wall. He could cross it in exactly a dozen paces with his eyes closed.

Only the ancient pear tree in the corner, Frederick supposed, defied the arrangement. It was gnarled, untrimmed for years, its branches jutting out over the wall in a way that would have offended him anywhere else. Here, for reasons he had never quite examined, he let it be.

He had planned to sit out there for a few quiet moments before going to sleep, hoping the cool night air would steady him. He came through the rear passage and saw her from the terrace door.

She was at the bottom of the steps, standing with her shawl pulled close, and her face tipped upward. Her long blonde hair cascaded in curls down her back, the wind catching the edges. The night was cold and quite clear. The sky above London was doing its best against the gas lamps, and he could see bright stars in the gaps between the clouds. Percy was on the third step from the bottom.

I suppose I am not the only one drawn to our lodger…

He was not beside her. He was not performing any kind of companionship. He was simply on the step, perhaps four feet away, oriented in her general direction. For Percy, this was a considerable statement of interest.

Frederick stopped in the terrace doorway and did not announce himself.

Anna looked at Percy. Percy looked at the lawn. Then something passed between them. She shifted her weight slightly toward him, and Percy’s ears moved up and forward. She did not approach. She let the distance stay as it was. After a moment, she smiled.

If that is not the most beautiful smile I have ever seen…

It was a small smile, private and uncomplicated. This only made Frederick stare more, and gaining good sense, he stepped back. Unfortunately, he made rather more noise in doing this. Anna turned at the sound of his footstep on the stone.