Chapter Thirty
Lisbeth sat in her bedchamber with Thomas sitting next to her in a wingback chair. “You must get some rest.”
He glared at her, and she rolled her eyes. The man had sat in the chair all night. He had to be sore.
“I’m not leaving your side until the doctor says you are fine.”
She sighed. “Thomas, he said I was fine last night.”
“No, he said he believed you were fine but would check on you today to confirm.”
Her husband rubbed at the scruff on his face. Lisbeth had to admit he had a rakish appeal right now, looking rumpled and grumpy.
“I’m happy you didn’t break anything,” Rose stated.
She sat at the foot of the bed next to her feet. Her friend arrived early this morning with Sinclair. Lisbeth sighed. “I’m sorry I caused such a dramatic ending to your ball.”
Rose gently squeezed her ankle. “I couldn’t care less. You matter to me more than another few hours of dancing.”
She frowned. “I hope Sinclair’s mother wasn’t too upset.”
Her friend shook her head. “Everyone did what they were supposed to at a ball—see and be seen.”
Lisbeth giggled. Rose was not the typical duchess. She doubted that her friend would ever prefer dancing at grand affairs to toiling over ancient text. Rose smiled. “I did enjoy the desserts and spending time with the ladies from the Historical Society for Female Curators.”
Thomas snickered, but Lisbeth said, “That is a start.”
Rose nodded. “Augustus’s mother has asked me to join her as a patron for a charity that supports several orphanages. I think I will enjoy that as well.”
“Good for you.”
“Will you return to one of the excavation sites?” Thomas asked.
Rose blushed. Thomas and Lisbeth glanced at each other, both intrigued by her response. Their friend sighed. “We are not sharing this broadly, but I’m with child.”
Lisbeth screeched and pulled Rose towards her. Her friend laughed, hugging her back. Thomas smiled. “Congrats, Rose. A mother and a duchess.”
Rose nodded. “Yes, but we do plan to return to Syria after the baby is born, at least for a few months. My father, his mother, and his sister are the only ones who know for now.”
Lisbeth squeezed her hand. “I’m honored you told us.”
She leaned back against the bedframe, grimacing. Rose frowned. “Did I hug you too hard?”
“I hugged you. I’m fine, just sore.”
“What happened?” Rose asked. “One minute you were standing with me on the landing, and then you were tumbling down.”
Lisbeth shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
“But it was an accident?” Rose prodded.
Thomas studied her intently and, at her continued silence, said, “Tell us, Lisbeth.”
“Before I fell, I felt a push on my lower back. I’m not sure if it was intentional. There were so many people going up and down the steps, but it was a hard shove.”
Thomas’s eyes widened in alarm. “Why didn’t you mention this last night?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“I will ask Benson to bring in more guards. Devons’s investigator still hasn’t been able to locate who C is.”
Rose frowned. “Is that your admirer who thinks she is your wife?”
Both Lisbeth and Thomas nodded. Rose said, “Please be careful.”
“I think it must be an accident. Pushing me seems extreme,” Lisbeth insisted.
“Still, we will hire more guards. Perhaps you should not attend the event for the epic.”
Lisbeth and Rose looked at each other, shocked. She would do no such thing. If there were some crazy admirer, Lisbeth wouldn’t let them chase her away from her work. She jutted out her chin and said, “No.”
Thomas pressed his lips together firmly, his displeasure evident. Lisbeth would not hide. Rose looked back and forth between the two of them. “Why don’t the two of you discuss this, and we can decide at our weekly meeting at Seely House tomorrow?”
Lisbeth looked at her husband and firmly said, “I’m fine.” She then said to both of them. “We can make a final decision tomorrow.”
Annoyance lingered on Thomas’s face, but Lisbeth wouldn’t hide because of one of his fans. She wasn’t even sure if someone pushed her. It was only a suspicion. Still, she shivered because she had a vivid memory of two dainty hands pressing against her back as hard as they could.
Rose headed to the door. “I will see you both tomorrow.”
After their friend left, Lisbeth turned to Thomas. “I refuse to hide because of one of your admirers. That is ridiculous.”
“This C person could be dangerous.”
“Thomas, I’m unsure if I even was pushed.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “I will not lose you.”
The intensity and concern in his eyes softened her words. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I can’t miss the event.”
The conversation ended because Alice and Jeremy burst into the room. Alice said, “Miss Ashby said we could finally visit you. Are you hurt?”
Lisbeth called them up next to her. “I fell down some stairs, but I’m perfectly fine. Thomas was there to see me home.”
Alice smiled shyly at him. “Thank you, Thomas.”
Jeremy snuggled into her, and she grimaced. Thomas looked as if he was about to say something to him, so Lisbeth held a hand up in protest. He wasn’t in danger of damaging her or breaking anything. She would gladly take the cuddles.
Lisbeth listened to them explain their day, happy to be with her children even if she was sore. She glanced at Thomas, who was still frowning at her with concern. She mouthed, “It will all be fine.”
He lifted a skeptical brow.
*
Thomas sat with Harston, Martin, and Lord Hawley at the Den. He was there to meet with Devons about the letter, but had bumped into them while waiting.
Mr. Martin said, “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”
He shook his head and explained, “I’m planning to host lectures at Seely House. I will have one for adults and one for children.”
Lord Harston’s lips pressed together in annoyance. “You should reconsider. Also, I’m not sure a lecture for children would be beneficial. Antiquities are not something that would hold their interest.”
Thomas disliked Harston; he was a pompous ass. He wasn’t sure why Martin tolerated him as vice president. He supposed he didn’t have a choice. A body of their peers likely voted upon it.
He tried his best to keep his tone even and said, “My love of antiquities was developed when I was a young boy.”
“Did you study it at school?” Harston questioned.
He shook his head. “No, my mother was a housekeeper for a lord. I used to swipe antiquity books from the gentleman’s study.”
Harston wrinkled his nose as if he found his explanation distasteful. Lord Hawley, who’d remained silent to date, grinned at him. Hawley had returned from somewhere in the East, where he was studying the ancient culture of the Assyrians. The man was always doing something.
Thomas smiled at him. “It is good to see you. I haven’t seen you since we were in that bit of trouble in Tuscany three years ago.”
Hawley laughed. “I’m still not sure how we ended up in the same city in the middle of a revolution.”
Thomas had been there to help a friend flee.
To this day, he wasn’t sure what Hawley, scholar of all things ancient, was doing there.
Tuscany was like a second home to Thomas.
He’d always returned there between work.
One of his dear, good friends, Messina, had needed help when he’d become a wanted man.
Thomas has smuggled him out under the guise of being a professor of antiquities.
It was all over now. The quest to unite the region had failed, but whispers of unity still lingered in the area. Thomas suspected someday it would happen.
Hawley added, “I hear I should congratulate you. You are married to the Duchess of Lusby. Everyone is talking; it is apparently a love match.”
Thomas smiled. “It is.”
Harston rolled his eyes as if their conversation was beneath him. Hawley smirked at the man. “Harston, you do not help yourself by being uninterested in every conversation besides the one you want to have.”
The lord turned bright red. Martin, always the pacifier, said, “He is just dedicated to making sure nothing interferes with the club.”
Hawley sighed, and Thomas stated again, “I will not be joining the London Society of Antiquaries.”
Harston stood. “I think I will find a game to play.”
They all watched him storm off. Martin frowned. “He doesn’t mean any harm. He is very dedicated to the London Society of Antiquaries.”
Thomas studied the man. “Have you ever spoken with your daughter about the Historical Society of Female Curators? She is a key part of their success.”
Martin flushed. “I allow her to participate.”
Thomas found it sad that he wasn’t more supportive, but he supposed he couldn’t change that. His few conversations with Sarah Martin had been enlightening. She was a remarkable historian, particularly in the realm of art.
Martin stood. “I think I will join Harston.”
Both Thomas and Hawley nodded goodbye. They didn’t have a private moment together because Devons appeared.
Thomas nodded at him. Hawley stood, ready to depart. Devons shook his head. “Why don’t you stay? I know you’ve just returned, but you may have contacts I don’t.”
Hawley looked at them, intrigued. “Does this have to do with my wife’s club?”
Thomas said, “In a roundabout way.”
Devons sat and sighed. “Easton has been receiving fan mail that has become increasingly threatening.”
Hawley raised a brow. “Threatening to whom?”
“My wife. This person is upset and believes we should be married.”
Devons added, “I’ve tried to track them down from their letters, but whoever they are, they drop their letters at various places.”
Hawley frowned. “I’m not sure how you think I can help.”
“You have interesting connections,” Devons pointed out, not allowing him to play the part of a befuddled gentleman.
Thomas had to stop himself from laughing. He’d known Hawley for a long time. He played the part of the bumbling historian well, but the man was more complex than that. Clearly, Devons knew that as well.
Hawley didn’t deny Devons’ words but said, “I’m not sure I can be of help. Perhaps it is truly just a love-sick admirer.”
Thomas confessed, “My wife took a tumble down a staircase at the Duke of Lusby’s townhouse. We believe she may have been pushed.”
Devons frowned. “I will have my investigators increase their efforts.”
Hawley shook his head. “I hope that isn’t the case, Easton. Please let me know if I can be of service.”
Thomas nodded, grateful but unsure if Hawley could be helpful. He needed to find C, whoever it was. He hoped the fall was an accident, but he wouldn’t allow his fame to be something that harmed Lisbeth.