Page 53 of A Virgin to Tempt the Duke

“With intent to remove her by?—”

“Yes.” He picked up his glass again. “He is gone. I have sent for the physician for Simmons. Barnes will have a letter from me first thing tomorrow and I have made it plain to Birchall that any legal action on his part will be answered in kind.” He turned the glass. “It is managed.”

Thomas was looking at him with the expression he wore when he was deciding how far to go. “And Anna,” he said.

“She is upstairs. Rachel is with her.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Frederick said nothing, and Thomas exhaled. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out.

“I saw her face when she came in tonight. When Rachel and I arrived back.”

“She has been through a great deal this evening.”

“She has been through a great deal for some time now, Fred,” Thomas said. “And she has conducted herself through it with more composure than most people in ordinary circumstances. I mean that without exaggeration.” He paused. “You should also know that several people at the ball noticed Birchall leave, but no one connected it to anything. He left alone, quietly, and there is nothing to suggest he went anywhere in particular.” He turned his glass. “But I thought you should know.”

“Thank you.” He set his glass down. “For all of it tonight. I am aware it was?—”

“Don’t thank me,” Thomas said. “It is not a transaction.” He looked at Frederick with a simplicity that was one of the things that made him difficult to dismiss. “You have done an extraordinary thing for that woman. I want you to know I think so.”

“I have done what was necessary.”

“You have done considerably more than what was necessary.” He said it plainly, without embellishment, and it landed with more weight for that. “What wasnecessarywas a letter to a solicitor and someone’s back door. What you havedoneis bring her into your household, help her with the annulment, and put yourself between her and Birchall.” He held Frederick’s gaze. “That is not necessity. That is something else.”

“She is Rachel’s closest friend,” Frederick said. “It is for her.”

“Yes, you’ve said so.” Thomas turned his glass in his hand. “Several times, across several conversations, with the conviction of a man who has decided something is true and is reinforcing the decision regularly.” He set the glass down. “The annulment will go through.”

“Barnes expects it within the month.”

“And after that, she is free.” A pause, deliberate. “And unmarried.”

“And Rachel must marry first,” Frederick said, “which is the work that remains, and which requires my full?—”

“Rachel must marry first,” Thomas repeated, with the mildness of a man quoting something back. “Is that written down somewhere? Is it in a ledger?”

“It is the correct order of things! I have gone to great lengths to right the wrongs of this house. Order is necessary?—”

“It is the orderyoudecided, in the manner that you decide orders of things, which is without consultation, with great certainty and occasionally, without any logic that would survive examination.” He was not unkind. He never was. It was simply Thomas, saying the thing he thought because the thing he thought was true. “She wants a family man, you said once. Someone who would stay.”

“She does.” He reached for his glass. “And she deserves one.”

“And isn’t that,” Thomas said, with a patience that had a very slight edge to it now, “precisely what you have been? For years? A man who stays. A man who protects and provides and does not leave.” He looked at him. “For Rachel, yes. But that is the nature of you, Frederick. That is what you are, not the circumstance you have been obliged to fill.”

Frederick said nothing. He looked at the fire.

“You’ve spent fifteen years placing yourself last on the list,” Thomas said. “Longer, if we’re counting from when you were seventeen. I know why you did it. I was there, or near enough. I understand the reason of it.” He leaned forward slightly. “But she will marry. Rachel will marry, and well, and then the house will be very quiet, and the list will run out of items.” He held Frederick’s gaze. “You are allowed to want things, Frederick. You know that. Do you want to be alone?”

“I have everything I require,” Frederick snapped back, though he didn’t mean to.

“That is not the same thing.”

“Thomas—”

“A man can have everything he requires and be perfectly miserable,” Thomas said. “I have seen it done, and done well, by men of considerable accomplishment.” He picked up his glass. “You are allowed to want things. You are allowed to consider the possibility that one of the things you want is in this houseand will very shortly be free to be wanted.” He raised the glass slightly. “That is all I am saying.”

“And that is quite enough,” Frederick said, regaining composure as he drank more.