the patience just now to fuss with it. “Then you don’t regret it? I don’t want to assume, but … you were a virgin, and … I’ve been led to believe there might be some …”
He waved a hand through the air, finding his lack of the right words had followed him into the morning. This was such new territory for him, this consideration and care for another person beyond the pleasures of the moment.
She rose, crossing to the screen concealing the washstand and taking up a gold silk dressing gown. Once shrouded in it, she came to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“I regret nothing, and neither should you. I do not feel as if I lost anything last night. I rather feel as if I gained something instead.”
Relief sagged his shoulders, and he returned her embrace. “Thank God.”
They pulled apart, and Dominick reluctantly began backing toward the door.
“I will see you in a few hours. Try to rest some more. And … perhaps a hot bath?”
She sank back onto the bed and nodded. “Both those things sound wonderful. Good-bye, Mr. Burke … for now.”
“Yes, only for now.”
Dominick tiptoed from the room with shoes in hand, looking forward to the day when he wouldn’t have to sneak about to be with her. It would probably be best for him to keep his hands off her until after the wedding, but such a feat seemed impossible. Perhaps a short engagement would be best. They could be wed as soon as the banns were read, and he wouldn’t find the limits of his patience tested too sorely.
He returned to his guest chamber without incident but found that his thoughts would never let him go back to sleep. Instead, he dug about in his trunk until he came out with the writing box he’d brought along and carried it to an armchair near the window. By the light of the approaching dawn, he penned a missive to Benedict, doing his best to explain the changes that were soon to come without disclosing that he’d already compromised Calliope. It was really none of the man’s business.
Sealing the letter and setting it aside for Thorpe, he then turned his mind to other practical matters. There was much to do to prepare for his new life, the most important being facing a reality he’d wanted to avoid. His uncle’s inevitable death would see him set up to provide for Calliope, and what had once felt like an unwanted burden was now a fortuitous blessing. It didn’t matter that she had no need of money; he would be damned if he married her without a home to shelter her and his own funds to shower her with everything she could ever want.
His return to London would change everything, starting with allowing his uncle to go over estate affairs with him so he was better prepared to receive what was coming to him. He found it easier to accept that maybe he wanted it after all; not just for the sake of his impending marriage, but also for himself, for the little boy who had been told he would receive nothing because he’d been born nothing.
The house began coming alive for the day, and Thorpe came to see to his toilette. He took pains with his appearance, finding for the first time that he actually cared about the impression he would make. It wasn’t enough for Calliope to accept and want him. He wanted her father to be confident in the man she would marry, and that meant putting his best foot forward.
“You seem distracted this morning, if you don’t mind me saying, sir,” Thorpe remarked as he deftly tied Nick’s cravat.
He grinned, and Thorpe seemed startled by his sudden laughter.
“I have good news, Thorpe. I’m getting married.”
Thorpe froze, hands still buried in the white linen, eyebrows slowly creeping toward his hairline. “Pardon me, sir, but surely you jest.”
Nick chuckled, slapping Thorpe’s shoulder. “I am completely serious. This afternoon, I intend to meet with the viscount and inform him of my engagement to his daughter. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
Thorpe offered him a rare smile. “Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you. Oh, there is a letter on my writing box. I need it posted immediately.”
“Right away.”
Nick took his leave then, hurrying so he would not be late for breakfast. As he bounded down the steps, eyes sharp for any sign of Calliope, he tamped down the urgency making it difficult to retain his composure. He ought to be