Page 9 of The Viscount’s Second Chance (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life)

F isting her sodden skirts in her hands, Nora did her best to keep up with Thomas’s long strides as they ate up the distance between the restaurant and the Bexton London home. Her hat finally broke free from its pins and was cast into the path of an oncoming carriage. She should have been upset with the loss, but she could only toss her head back and laugh as her chestnut hair fell loose around her. Thomas glanced back at her, his face splitting into a wholly unguarded grin at the sight she made; Nora’s fickle heart thudded wildly at his dark hair shot through with silver plastered to his face, accentuating the glitter in his unnaturally blue eyes. The outsides of his eyes crinkled with mirth, counterintuitively making him appear boyish rather than his four decades.

Fat raindrops hammered down upon them as they charged laughing through the streets of Mayfair. Members of the ton gaped from their dry homes and splashing carriages as they dashed by, but Nora and Thomas couldn’t have cared less. They were focused only on reaching their destination and the warmth of the other’s hand in theirs.

Finally, Thomas guided her up the stairs to his home and shoved open the door before his butler could open it for them. The poor wide-eyed older man gaped at the scene they made, but Nora couldn’t find it in her to care.

Thomas shook the water droplets from his hair before slicking it back from his face, making him appear dangerously rakish. “Have the fire in the library stoked and bring hot tea and warmed brandy.” Thomas looked Nora up and down, causing a fiery tingle to break out on her flesh, contrasting sharply with the chill of her sodden clothing. “And some toweling. Miss Nora and I were caught unprepared by the weather.” He turned to her. “Here.” It took some work, but he was able to help her remove her spencer before handing both it and his own cloak and hat to his butler.

“Right away, My Lord.” The butler spun away to do Thomas’s bidding, not so much as batting an eye at Nora’s presence.

Nora wrapped her arms around her body as the chill set in. Thomas was slightly more well-off than she as his cloak had been thicker and protected him better against the weather; he wasn’t nearly as soaked through as she was. Noticing her movement, he cupped her elbow and began to guide her toward the library. She winced when her shoes squished across the floor and her heavy skirts clung and smacked against her legs with every step. There was nothing graceful or dignified about her first visit to the viscount’s residence in nearly two decades.

The staff had worked quickly and the fire was already roaring, rapidly filling the room with comforting warmth. Thomas guided her toward the hearth and she stretched her hands to the licking flames. Her eyes ran along the familiar carved swoops and dips of the marble hearth. It had been a long while since she’d set foot in Ivy House—so named for the ancient wall of ivy that held fast to the iron fence and brick facade of the home—and there was something comforting about seeing the same sea-blue papering, the bottled ship that Thomas’s grandfather had assembled perched upon a table, the oil painting of stormy waters raging below the cliffs of Dover. As children, the rich wood tones and blues of this room had provided the backdrop for many childhood literary adventures she and Beth had shared during the occasional foray into London. It wasn’t often that Beth’s mother had allowed her daughter to undertake the strenuous trip to London, but traveling to London for a new wardrobe couldn’t be helped at least once per year when one was a growing girl. Nora had been fortunate enough that her own mother—quite occupied by her passel of other children and growing brood of grandchildren—had viewed it as a boon that there was someone to ensure Nora’s own wardrobe didn’t suffer. Naturally, Thomas was present during those trips. Even when he was away at school, not a visit to London went by that he didn’t make at least one surprise appearance to escort the girls to the park or a museum, take them shopping for something other than clothing—usually an overabundance of books from the illustrious Thorpe Booksellers—or indulge them with an overabundance of ices at Gunter’s.

Nora was lost in those memories when Thomas wrapped a sheet of toweling around her shoulders and guided her to a chair. She hadn’t realized he’d dragged it over from the far corner of the room so she could sit and enjoy the fire’s warmth.

It wasn’t lost on her that it was also her favorite overstuffed armchair with its worn navy velvet on the arms and cushion that was just the right firmness for an afternoon spent curled up reading. Thomas began to seat her in the chair, but she resisted.

“I couldn’t! I am positively soaked. I shall wreck the upholstery.”

“That is hardly on the top of my priorities. I’d much rather you be comfortable and dry yourself by the fire.”

Nora glanced down at her sagging skirts. “A change of clothing would be far preferable,” she muttered.

“I can have a maid see if Mother may have left a few items behind after her last visit—”

“No,” Nora grabbed his forearm to stop him from leaving the room. The solid ropes of muscle beneath her palm gave her pause and she momentarily forgot what she’d been about to say. She suddenly didn’t want him to leave; nor did she want to stop touching him. “It’s fine.”

They stood frozen like that, both staring at the point where she touched him as if an old fuse had been once more reignited, and burned all the more quickly because of its age.

Thomas cleared his throat and began to shrug from his coat. “You don’t mind, do you? My cravat and collar got a bit drenched.”

“By all means. It is your home.” She could already see where the melted starch was beginning to redden the skin of his throat, so she knew it wasn’t a mere ploy to divest himself of some clothing in her presence. “Lord knows I’d do the same if I could.” Her mouth snapped shut with an awkward squeak as soon as the words passed her lips. She’d only meant that she’d have removed some of her sodden layers were she in the privacy of her own home, but it certainly hadn’t come off like that.

Especially not since she’d said it in the presence of a man who’d once known every intimate detail of her heart and her body.

His blue eyes practically glowed with fire…and Nora’s shiver was from more than just the chill of her clothing.

One. Two. Three heartbeats passed before Thomas tore his gaze away from hers and resumed untying and then unwinding his cravat from his neck. Tossing it over the back of another chair, he began twisting in an effort to remove his coat. Unfortunately, the dampness at the collar and between his shoulders tightened the fabric, making it markedly more difficult than simply slipping it from his frame.

“Here,” Nora said, standing as she clutched the toweling around her shoulders. “Allow me.” She didn’t wait before she helped Thomas tug his arms free and then carefully laid the garment across the back of a sofa. By the time she’d turned again, Thomas had already removed his waistcoat and stood before the fire in only his white linen shirt. The hard lines of his body were visible in the silhouette cast by the crackling flames. Nora was hard pressed to swallow past the lump in her throat.

Even more so when he held his hand out to her, beckoning for her to join him.

Nora did so, experiencing a shock of lightning when their palms touched, and he positioned her between his body and the fire. His large hands chaffed her arms again and again, rubbing warmth into them with friction while the heat of his body a scant breath’s distance from hers heated her back nearly as much as the fire did her front.

She was so absorbed in the sensations that she hardly noticed when a maid entered and left the tea tray and warmed brandy on the table as Thomas instructed. Nora was tempted to close her eyes and lean her head back to rest against his broad chest; it would have been so easy to do, so comforting. She nearly gave into the urge when he stepped away—almost whimpered at the loss—but he quickly returned with a steaming cup of tea for her. The efficient staff had already steeped the brew in the kitchens and it had been prepared just as she preferred it by Thomas’s own hand, with the addition of a healthy splash of brandy, of course.

She accepted it gratefully, enjoying the way the drink’s warmth seeped through the china and into her hands.

“Thank you,” Nora whispered before inhaling the warm, fragrant steam into her lungs.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” Thomas asked, his voice so low and his body so near that she swore she could feel its thunder-like rumble in her chest.

Nora shook her head and turned her eyes to the window. “It seems we were caught in the worst of it.” Indeed, the rain continued outside, but it was at a much more reasonable rate than before.

“Just our luck,” Thomas grumbled in reply, but a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Nora sipped her tea and savored the addition of brandy, milk, and sugar in perfect proportions. It was a work of art.

“I suppose today was a failure, then,” said Nora wistfully.

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” Thomas heaved a sigh before dropping into the chair she’d vacated, completely disregarding the fact that he’d likely stand up with a wet seat leftover from her sodden skirts. “Just because we didn’t locate the arch on our first try doesn’t mean we will never find it.”

Nora took one final sip from her cup before setting it down. “And how long do you propose we continue on like this, Thomas? Wasting our time? I am certain you have more pressing matters requiring your attention.”

“Nora.” Thomas reached up and grabbed her hand in his, his large palm and long fingers engulfing hers. “No time spent with you is wasted.” Her breath hitched in her throat when she met his eyes. “Besides, we are honoring Beth, are we not?”

“Right. Yes.” She gave a little tug of her hand, but Thomas did not release her. She stopped just shy of narrowing her eyes at him and glaring. “And how long do you suggest we continue the search? Days? Months?”

“Years?” Thomas added cheekily.

Nora speared him with a quelling look. “Beth and I already searched for years, to no avail.”

“And I have no doubts that you both did your very best.”

“Then why must we continue on this fool’s errand?” The words rang in the cavernous room. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She was so tired—so emotionally drained from the events of the past several weeks and from being around Thomas for the first time in what her heart felt like was forever. “Perhaps I should go. Might I still have use of your carriage?”

“Not yet,” Thomas whispered a second before pulling Nora down and into his lap. She yelped in surprise as she landed across the solid planes of his thighs and was held against the solid wall of his chest. He held her close, pressed against the thudding of his heart, and it took everything in Nora not to melt against him, close her eyes, and allow herself to simply forget about everything. “You are upset,” he said, his voice and his proximity setting something warm and curling off deep inside of her. “I’ll not allow you to leave here upset.” She tilted her head back to look up into his face. Time had changed Thomas, but he was still quite the handsomest man she’d ever seen. Even the small lines framing the corner of his eyes, the silver at his temples, served to make him more distinguished, more beautiful for the evidence of the years he’d weathered.

“Thomas…” she breathed his name on a sigh. It was a plea—for what, Nora could not have said. All she knew is she was overwhelmed by him, by his presence, by his thoughtfulness, by his warmth.

“Yes, Nora?” His voice was a gravelly whisper and his eyes danced across her features, lingering on her mouth.

Her lips parted, but she was unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a single intelligent word.

“Nora.” She hadn’t thought it possible, but Thomas’s tone was even lower than before. His large hand reached up and brushed a damp lock of hair from her face. She was instantly conscious of what a mess she must be. She tried to push up from his lap with a lame stammered excuse, but he held her fast. “I’ll not let you go until I am sure you won’t just return home to cry alone.” She made an affronted sound, but there was nothing for her to say. It was quite likely she would have done just that.

He tilted his head and looked at her. He saw her—really saw her—like no one else ever had. “It kills me to know your heart has been broken.”

“Yours has been broken, too.”

“Yes.” He murmured, gazing at her as if memorizing every line and curve of her face. She knew he meant Beth, but she also had the distinct feeling there was something more to be read there in the sadness lingering on the edges of his eyes. “But I hope today has helped take your mind off of it.”

“As much as can be expected, I suppose.” She was distracted by the back and forth swipe of his thumb on her waist. “But a day of distraction does not truly change anything. Beth is still gone. And I must sort out a new place to live.”

Thomas reared back. “A new place to live?”

“Of course. I cannot continue to live in the Townhouse. My mother along with my eldest brother and his wife have all offered me a home. I must choose between them.”

“You needn’t abandon your home and your independence if it is not what you desire.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Townhouse is yours to do with as you please for as long as you desire, Nora. It is as much yours as it was Beth’s.”

Nora was shaking her head as he spoke, not allowing herself to fully grasp what he was saying. She stopped only when his palm cupped her cheek and held her still.

“I am the one who instructed my solicitors to locate the home. I am the one who purchased the property. I am the one who pays for its upkeep and maintenance, as well as the staff. And it is my decision to continue to do so until such a time as you decide you would rather move on.”

“Thomas…I—I had no idea,” she stammered, her heart leaping into her throat. “I mean, I knew your mother had a role in helping Beth establish her own household, but I truly had no notion of your involvement. I thought the property was rented. You purchased the house? For Beth?”

“For both of you.”

The words cast ripples throughout Nora’s sense of self and the situation. Thomas had purchased them a house so she and Beth could live independently. And he made it clear that he would continue to do so for her so she needn’t give up her freedom and be at the mercy of her family once again—not that they were terrible people, of course, but she would be expected to behave a certain way, attend certain functions, perhaps even be encouraged to marry despite her advanced age. She didn’t think she could live like that, especially not after so many years of freedom.

“I wanted you safe,” Thomas continued; “at any cost. And I will continue to do so until my dying breath.” She watched his eyes track down to her lips and stay. His fingers twitched against her cheek and she knew.

He wanted her.

He still wanted her.

And Nora still wanted him—had never stopped wanting him. Being this close to him once more was overwhelming. The knowledge that he’d maintained his desire for her despite the passage of time and regardless of all the things she’d said to him was heady.

Her lips parted and Thomas’s head began to incline ever so slowly. His heat reached her first, tickling her lips like the petals of a sun-warmed dandelion. They were one sigh away from kissing and the potential was so tempting. She was drawn to him, reeled in despite her thrashing, and she was exhausted.

Her mind danced between imagining how good it would feel to have his mouth upon hers once more after all these years, and the echoing memories of the way he’d always made not just her body, but her soul, feel. Thomas had always known how to coax laughter from her when she felt like crying and joy when she’d been morose. And this…this was too much. She felt like she would be consumed by his nearness and lose herself.

Nora hopped to her feet and Thomas had been so caught off guard that he hadn’t had a chance to stop her. Wrapping her arms around her chilled body, she strode over to the bookcase mounted upon the far wall and stared unseeingly at the earth-tone covers. Browns, greens, and tans swam before her vision as it blurred with unshed tears.

She’d spent so long parsing out her sense of self into “Beth’s friend” and “Thomas’s lover” that her mind struggled to reconcile the two. How could her conscience survive if she simply jumped into Thomas’s arms the very month of Beth’s death? Would she be turning her back on her friend if she allowed this draw between the two of them to happen—if she quit fighting the latent attraction and simply gave herself permission to be? The war in her heart was nearly overwhelming in its intensity, she felt her gut roil with it, her head throbbed with it.

The soft thud of Thomas’s boots on the rug approached her until they stopped and slowed just behind her. Nora closed her eyes, inhaled deeply through her nose, and turned to face him.

“I didn’t wait around for Beth to die so I could simply shift my attentions back to you. The mere thought of it makes me ill, and I will not have you believing it, nor will I sully the memories of my friendship with her by allowing anyone else to think it. This would be the cruelest stain upon the past and I doubt not that it would also bleed into the future.”

“Nora, I assure you that I never thought that, nor would I ever.” Thomas’s hands wrapped around her upper arms and he held her firmly until she met his eyes. “As far as what anyone else thinks, they can go to the Devil for all I care. All that matters is what is in our hearts. We know the truth, and I’ll not allow you to say a disparaging word about yourself.”

“Thomas,” she said, a sob lodging in her throat and preventing all other words from squeezing past. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stave off the tears that threatened. She refused to allow herself to fall apart right there in his library, but it was so bloody hard when he looked at her like that—as if she were his world.

“Princess.” The old endearment tumbled from his lips like an invocation, halting Nora’s pulse.

And then, his lips were on hers.