Lord Thomas and his bride (The Duke's Brothers Book 3) by Fiona Miers (smallest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

She rose to her feet and noticed his limp as he walked towards her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And by yourself? You should be resting.”

He stopped abruptly and smiled at her. “It is lovely to see you,” he said calmly, not affected by Rebecca’s scolding.

“Pardon my tongue lashing, Thomas, but you cannot be walking around unassisted with your injury,” she said.

“I am not unassisted,” he said.

At that moment, a manservant appeared with a wooden easel and a leather satchel. “Where would you prefer I set these down, my lord?”

Thomas glanced in the direction of Rebecca’s easel and motioned to it. “Beside that one.”

“Very well, my lord,” the manservant said.

Rebecca’s brow furrowed and crossed her arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, your easel is in my spot,” he said.

“Your spot?”

“Indeed. I usually set it down right there.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. Impossible. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I have never seen you or your easel on the beach before. Do you come here often?” he asked her.

“Well, I...” she began to stutter, not certain whether she wished to divulge her personal details to Thomas.

“Clearly, that is none of my business,” he said with a hint of discomfort.

“My apologies. It is simply a long and morose tale.”

“One that we should not investigate in this moment.”

“Indeed,” Rebecca said and drew in a slow breath. “Would you be interested in having breakfast with me? And Connie, of course,” she added.

“I would very much like that, Rebecca,” Thomas said and looked at her maid. “You must be Connie.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Here, allow me to assist you to sit, my lord,” the manservant suddenly said beside Thomas.

He had laid out a rug beside Rebecca’s and placed a basket containing Thomas’ breakfast upon it. Thomas was assisted down onto the rug, and they began to share their meals with one another.

“I was not aware you are an artist,” Thomas said.

“That should not come as a surprise,” she said with a shrug. “You know very little of me.”

“I can say the same about you. But still, you do not strike me as the type.”

“And why is that?” she asked.

“You have a nurturing and caring demeanour. Are artists not moody and reclusive?”

“Are you moody and reclusive?”

Thomas chuckled and shook his head. “My father would say I am. He was not an artist at all. But he did have his fair share of moody days. Grumpy as well.”

“You certainly did not inherit that from him,” Rebecca said with a smile.

“Thank you for the compliment,” Thomas said.

She narrowed her gaze at him. “Be honest. Did you follow me here?”

“No, I did not. Truthfully,” he answered with sincere tones. “But I can say that I am happy I decided to visit this particular beach this morning. It is good to see you again.”

“Indeed.” Rebecca answered, though her heart had leapt up and a lump now stuck in her throat.

Thomas’ eyes were intently focused on hers, and her skin tingled. She still found it immensely surreal that Thomas was beside her, speaking of art and realising how much they had in common.

Thomas’ mouth turned upwards, and Rebecca could barely contain herself. Of course, she would not dare take Thomas’ hand, or kiss him in front of her maid or his manservant. She could only imagine what her father would say if he were to find out she’d done such a thing.

“Pardon me, Miss,” Connie said, interrupting their moment.

Rebecca unwillingly tore her gaze from Thomas and looked at her maid. “What is it, Connie?”

“We should be going back. Dr. Morton will require your assistance today in his rooms.”

“But what of Nurse Beckett?” Rebecca asked, trying her hardest not to appear annoyed with her maid.

“She is unable to come today. A family emergency she told him.”

Rebecca pouted in disappointment but knew that there would be no way around this problem. Her time with Thomas was once again cut short.

She sighed. “Very well, Connie. You may pack our things.”

Connie nodded and Rebecca turned to Thomas. “I am truly sorry. I must be going.”

“There is no need to apologise. Although, admittedly I had hoped we could spend more time together.”

“You did?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “In fact, would you be interested in joining me on a fossil hunting expedition?”

Her breath caught in her throat, “To where?”

“Oh, only at Weymouth bay. The injury to my leg limits the places I can go.”

“I would love to, granted that my father approves of it.”

“I am willing to speak to him, if need be,” Thomas said with a gallant smile.

Rebecca bit her lip and lowered her gaze. It would take much convincing on her part for her father to allow her to join Thomas, but looking at the hopeful expression on his face, she would try her utmost best.

Chapter Four.

Rebecca paced along the length of the parlour, her hands clasped together. She’d gone to an unusual amount of care with what she wore and had chosen a light summer dress of soft white cotton and capped sleeves. Her hair was pinned at the crown of her head and her matching summer hat rested on the sofa beside her as she awaited the arrival of the carriage Thomas would send for her.

She had not expected her father to permit her to accompany Thomas on his excursion. But as his climbing ability was restricted by his injury and he would be unable to go anywhere that could pose any danger to himself or to her, he had agreed.

Thomas had sent a note to her home, stating that he would send a carriage to collect her, and she had been anxiously excited about it. The conditions of her father’s approval were that their manservant, Marcus, would accompany them.

Marcus was a burly man and would ensure both Rebecca’s person and reputation were safe. And although her father didn’t say it plainly, he made it perfectly clear that he did not wish to be a grandfather yet.

Of course, Rebecca laughed off such a thing with cool indifference. She was certain that she