was why it was so important he never lose control, not even for a moment as he’d done earlier when he’d thrown the figurine.
But you pulled yourself together.
Nevertheless, look at what had happened to Thea. Thomas felt sick.
It didn’t help that her mother and maid had spent the afternoon and evening closeted with Thea and were likely commiserating about Thomas’s depravity as well as his responsibility for Thea’s demise. Countless arrangements of flowers had been delivered, all of which had been crammed into the morning room to help stave off the scent of death.
Baines had told him a short while ago that both women had retired and that Spicer had informed him she would be going to work for Mrs. Chamberlain. Thomas was grateful he wouldn’t have to worry about the maid’s employment.
He’d be glad when they were both out of his house. That meant Thea would be gone too. The idea of consistent peace was a dream he hadn’t dared. Now, his entire being yearned for it with everything he had.
A movement in the back corner of the garden drew his attention. A small, black-clad figure strode toward the balcony. Her head tipped up, and their eyes met.
Wordlessly, she went to the trellis and ascended with the same speed and agility she had the night before. As she climbed over the railing, he noted the curve of her backside and the slope of her hip. When she stepped into the light coming from the windows of the sitting room, he fixed on the dramatic arch of her pale brows, the searing intensity of her hazel eyes, the saucy manner in which her nose turned up at the tip, the enticing bow of her dark pink lips, and the strong jut of her chin. She was a cat, and he briefly wondered if he was her prey.
“You came back,” he said simply.
“I had to.”
“For Ramsgate.”
She put a hand on her hip. “Did I so much as look toward his house?”
He nearly smiled, which in itself was a marvel given the past day. “You didn’t appear to. How is it you climb so well?”
“Dressing like a man helps.” She flashed a quick smile, which revealed dimples in her cheeks. There was joy in this woman, and the glimpse of it nearly drove Thomas to his knees.
“You didn’t answer my question. While you’re doing that, tell me why you’re dressed like a man.”
“I can’t very well steal into gardens late at night and watch the Duke of Ramsgate dressed like a woman, particularly since I have to climb a tree to see him.”
“Thank you. You also didn’t answer why you are spying on him. And don’t tell me you aren’t spying. What you are doing is most definitely spying.”
She narrowed one eye at him. “You are full of questions this evening. Are you distracting yourself?”
“Definitely.”
She exhaled. “I can’t blame you.” She stepped toward him, her features creasing with concern. “How are you?”
“Horrid. My mother-in-law is here.”
“Oh dear. You don’t get along?”
“That’s a nice way of putting it.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m being uncharitable. The woman has endured much in recent days.”
“You’re referring to the arrest of her son in addition to her daughter’s death.”
“You keep up on gossip.”
She lifted a shoulder. “My sister’s betrothed is the one who arrested Chamberlain.”
“Your sister is marrying Harry Sheffield?” He was brother to Lord Northwood, with whom Thomas was well acquainted.
“You are not keeping up on gossip. Which is to be expected.”
“I rarely do.”
“You’re better off,” Miss Whitford said. She hesitated before asking, “How is your daughter?”
“She scarcely understands, which is for the best. Thea wasn’t a particularly, ah, devoted parent.” Indeed, entire days went by when Thea never even visited Regan in the nursery. That disregard was perhaps the primary reason Thomas had grown to loathe her.
“I’m certain your daughter is quite lucky to have you for a father,” Miss Whitford said with grave confidence—and perhaps just a touch of wistfulness.
“I’m still not at all certain why you chose to help me instead of fleeing the garden.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the outer wall of the house. “Are you going to tell me, or will you avoid that question too?”
“I like to be helpful, and you clearly needed help. As you said, your daughter needs a father.”
He’d had the sense Miss Whitford hadn’t been aware of Regan, but why would she? Miss Whitford had been visiting his garden to survey the duke next door, not