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If only she could experience it all again.
But he hadn’t come near her after dinner. He’d hardly even looked her way.
Well, nothing could be done about it now.
All she could do now was go to bed and hope for the best in the morning.
Once the viscount had rejoined the men, Thomas strode toward his study. As the host of the party, he should be in attendance with the other men, but he could not help himself. Something was not adding up, and he was determined to find out what it was.
He sat down behind his desk and began opening and closing drawers, looking for something—anything—that seemed out of place.
He was scrounging around, trying to play detective, when?—
“Thomas, there you are.”
He looked up, nearly bumping his head on the desk drawer.
In the doorway stood his sister Lily, the Duchess of Lybrook.
He cocked his head. “Lily, what the devil are you doing about at this hour?”
Lily chuckled softly. “I’m an old married woman, brother. I don’t have to report to you on what I’m doing out at this hour. As you well know, my husband is having a brandy with Cameron and most of the other men. I was just taking a stroll about the house, and I noticed the lamp lit here in your study.”
“So?”
She raised an eyebrow. “So…why aren’t you acting as host, Thomas?”
Thomas paused. He was not sure if he wanted to bring his sister—who had already settled herself contentedly into her new life—into this.
“I’ve a lot on my mind,” is all he said.
“Might one of those things be Patricia?”
This time Thomas did hit his head on the drawer, and an ache sprang up in his skull.
“Bloody hell, Lily. Now see what you made me do.”
Lily strode forward, putting out her hands. “Do let me have a look, Thomas.”
He turned, let his sister look at the back of his head.
“There’s no blood, you’ll be fine.”
“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, Lily, I have work to do.”
“There is no work that cannot wait until morning, brother dear.”
He sighed. “For the love of God, Lily, you’ve never been one to hold your tongue. What is it that you want with me?”
His sister strode back toward the entrance and closed the door to the study.
Not a good sign.
“Have a seat, Thomas.”
He dropped into his chair behind the desk. It still felt wrong to sit here. This was his father’s desk, not his.
But in that moment, Lily sounded so much like his father. Not the deep voice, of course, but the intonation.
