Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Yes, my daughter is beautiful. And intelligent.” Lady Ashford smiled. “And she certainly met her match in the duke.”
Tricia followed Lady Ashford’s gaze onto the ballroom floor, where Lily and the duke were dancing. They looked splendid together as always. The duke, so tall and broad—his own unfashionably long hair tied back in a leather band. He wore green, the color of his eyes. And Lily was dazzling in a dark red ensemble, her beautiful sable hair pulled up with curls tumbling over her shoulders.
Tricia looked over in contrast to Lily’s sister, Rose, Tricia’s own sister-in-law. Just as beautiful, but in a much softer way. Blond beauty and blue eyes that she inherited from her mother, the dowager countess.
The dowager countess, indeed, was still a beautiful woman at her age. Her own blond hair masked the grays of maturity, and she had the same blue eyes as her younger daughter.
“My ladies,” a deep voice said.
Tricia turned to see Lord Victor Polk.
“Lady Clementine, Lady Ashford, I do hope you will not be too upset if I take Lady Patricia for a twirl on the dance floor?”
“Of course not,” the countess said. “But I do think that’s up to Patricia, is it not?”
Lord Polk laughed. “Or her mother.” He glanced at Lady Clementine.
“Far be it from me to make any decisions for my daughter,” her mother said. “Patricia, this is up to you.”
Tricia turned and curtsied to Lord Polk. “I would be honored, my lord.”
More dancing. After Lord Polk was finished with her, Mr. Jameson took his turn. The two of them cut in on each other a decent amount, and by the time they were done, Tricia’s feet were sore.
“I do believe I’m due for a respite, gentlemen,” she said. “Do please excuse me.”
They both bowed.
“Of course, my lady,” Mr. Jameson said politely.
Tricia worked hard to keep from limping out of the ballroom as she walked toward the ladies’ retiring area.
Finding it empty, she sighed in relief, sitting down on one of the velvet stools and taking a glance in the looking glass. Her hair was holding up nicely, though there was a sheen of sweat on her décolleté. She took a powder puff to it, assessed everything else, and rose.
She left the ladies’ retiring area but wasn’t quite ready to go back to the ballroom.
She knew better than to go up to the fourth floor again, though she was curious. She wandered along aimlessly, nodding to any servant she passed and acting like she knew exactly where she was going, although she did not.
She walked into a wing of the house unfamiliar to her and found herself in front of a large oak door. She turned the knob and—
She dropped her jaw. This was Thomas’s study. The one that used to belong to his father, Crispin Jameson.
Oh, she should leave at once. But she could not help herself. She inhaled. The distinct aroma of parchment and leather coupled with Thomas’s own scent of spice and outdoors…
She inhaled again, closing her eyes.
What a lovely, lovely space.
It was here that Thomas did his work. Where he pored over the ledgers from the tenants living on his land, the bills and invoices that had to be paid, servants’ wages, legal documents. Everything.
The Ashford estate was a large one, though not as large as the Lybrook Estate, Laurel Ridge, where Tricia had grown up tending a portion of the land. But Thomas was an earl, not a duke. Still, the Ashford estate was known as one of the richest earldoms in Britain.
Oh, if only Tricia could be the lady of this estate.
Indeed, she could be. Thomas would marry her in an instant. Why was she resisting?
She knew damned well why. She wanted to know for certain that he loved her. She wanted his fidelity. She didn’t want him running off to mistresses or whores. She knew how marriages of convenience ended up. She’d heard enough from Lady Sarah about how her parents lived. They rarely saw one another. Her father spent most of his time in London, keeping Sarah and her mother in a different townhome while they were in the city or on their estate.
Sarah knew that her father kept mistresses, that he frequented brothels. Her own mother had grown old before her time, her hair gray, her figure stout.
That was not what Tricia wanted.
Both of Thomas’s sisters had found love matches, as had Tricia’s own mother. That was what she wanted.
Tricia walked farther into the office, again inhaling the fragrant aroma. She sat behind Thomas’s large wooden desk, in his leather chair, where his scent was even more profound. She closed her eyes, inhaling, inhaling, inhaling…
Until she heard the doorknob turning.
Oh no! What if Thomas found her here?
Worse, what if someone else found her here?
But that was a silly worry. Who else would enter Thomas’s office?