Lord Thomas and his bride (The Duke's Brothers Book 3) Fiona Miers (miss read books .txt) 📖

“There is no time for all these questions. We must make haste.”

“Very well, Father. I will have to change my clothes. I will not be long.”

“I will be waiting in the carriage.”

Rebecca turned and hurried up the narrow staircase and into her bedchambers. She bit her bottom lip as she speedily changed into a more appropriate dress for the occasion and pinned her hair neatly at the nape of her neck. Although she realised that any attempt to make a good impression on the Dowager Duchess would be futile, she did so for the sake of her father. She did not wish for him to be seen in a poor light, as he had nothing to do with the current situation. In fact, they would surely agree that their children were not to be in the vicinity of each other.

Rebecca quickly rushed to the carriage after she was properly dressed and climbed inside. Her father seemed impatient, but she knew that it was only because he did not wish to keep the Dowager Duchess waiting.

Her father had spent many years building his reputation as a trustworthy and loyal man, and she certainly did not wish to damage it, although she feared she may have already done so. Irreparable damage that he was not even be aware of.

Despite the looming sense of dread inside her heart, she did not wish to give her father any indication that the Dowager Duchess already despised her. Perhaps it was due to her low status? But surely, the Dowager Duchess was not that shallow.

Rebecca exhaled and stared out at the hills passing by as the carriage made its way along the winding road towards Finlay Hall. She chose to think of the wonderful morning with Thomas instead of fretting over things that were unclear. Her father did not state the reason why the Dowager Duchess had sent for them, and it could perhaps be because the old woman was ill and required medical attention.

Nevertheless, what was meant to happen would happen, and there was nothing Rebecca was able to do to change it.

“It seems as though the time on the cliff sketching has raised your spirits,” her father said.

She looked at her father and nodded. “Indeed. It was precisely what I needed.”

He smiled sadly and nodded as well. “You sound like your mother. Whenever she was upset or sad or discouraged, she would sit by her easel in the garden and sketch. For a morning, an afternoon, and even during the night. It was her time to find peace in herself. You are very much like her.”

She’d watched her mother sketch, quietly pouring her heart and soul onto the paper and canvas. She’d been graceful and beautiful, enchanting and inspiring, and it was something Rebecca longed for. Her mother had been an important part of her life, and she missed her presence profusely. Even after all this time, she longed to hear her voice, feel the warmth of her embrace.

“She was taken much too soon. I miss her every day,” Rebecca said quietly. “But I feel closer to her when I sketch.”

“Then I will not take that away from you, Rebecca. You are free to sketch wherever and when’ve you please. I firmly believe your mother would agree with me.”

She smiled sadly and said, “Thank you, Father.”

A brief silence filled the carriage until her father spoke again. “You asked why the Dowager Duchess requested your presence as well.”

“That is correct, Father.”

He looked at her and pursed his lips. “Perhaps she learnt that you are more attentive to older ladies than I am. You are kind and gentle, and you understand the vulnerability of their situations better than I ever could.”

“That is a very nice thing for you to say, Father.” Though most likely incorrect.

“I do mean it, my dearest. You have always possessed a kind heart and a curious mind, which some would consider unconventional for a young woman. But it makes you unique, and very special to me.”

“Thank you, Father,” Rebecca said with a smile, and lowered her gaze.

Her father had never expressed his adoration for her in such a lovely manner, and it was both endearing and overwhelming. Yet, she also feared that if he learnt of her disobedience and her secret meeting with Thomas – albeit by chance – he would not think so highly of her. Technically, she had not lied to him, but a lie of omission still remained a lie.

As Finlay Hall appeared in the distance, her shoulders tightened, preparing for a possible attack from the Dowager Duchess.

THERE WAS A CHEERFUL bounce in Thomas’ step as he made his way along the wide carriage path leading to the manor house. He had very much enjoyed his morning with Rebecca, although it had not been planned. During their entire conversation, Thomas had not detected any kind of deception from her, and the fact that Dr. Morton had forbidden her to see him made it clear that the family was not interested in trapping him.

His mother had obviously been wrong about Rebecca’s motives and intentions, but Thomas also knew his mother and how stubborn she was. She would not be easily swayed by anyone, not even her own sons. Perhaps there was another way that Thomas could convince her that Rebecca was a kind and genuine person, with no hidden motive.

Truthfully, Thomas would not mind if he was trapped into marriage by Rebecca. She was not only beautiful and delightful to gaze upon, but she was an intelligent and witty young woman who made him laugh. His morning had been better than he had anticipated, and it was because of her. Her presence inspired him, and her beauty motivated him to be better.

A better artist.

And a better man.

What more could one want in a wife?

Thomas approached the manor house and noticed a footman hovering at the side door. Usually there would be no one outside unless visitors were being received.

Thomas turned to an approaching manservant