“What? I’m speaking of tenderness.”
From his chair behind the desk, Bram rubbed his temple. “I think what my cousin is trying to say is, just because she’s Lady Katherine Gramercy now and not Miss Taylor, that doesn’t mean that she’s changed inside.”
Thorne resumed pacing. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told them everything. He’d needed their help, but he hated that they knew he needed it. Feeling weak wasn’t something he was accustomed to, and he didn’t like it. His impulse was to crash through the doors, find his Katie, pick her up in his arms, and carry her away someplace warm and small and safe.
But he couldn’t take her away. That was the whole point of tonight. She had a family now. Not only a family, but a place among the English peerage.
This new life of hers . . . it meant she could never be entirely his. No matter the promises she made about leaving everything behind and sailing with him for America, he knew it couldn’t work that way. As a Gramercy, she was part of a family. As the daughter of a marquess, she would have obligations and duties here. As a lady, she would always be above him—the reminder of it would sit before her name on every letter she received or penned.
He didn’t want to share her. But he must, if he wanted to be a part of her new life. Most of all, he was utterly resolved: He would not bring shame to her, ever.
So tonight he was pacing the library carpet, waiting for his chance. He was hardly Cinderella, but at least he’d wedged his scarred body and ashen soul into a smart new outfit.
From behind the desk, Bram regarded Thorne. “I can’t believe you went to my cousin.”
I can’t believe it, either.
“If you needed anything, Thorne, I would have helped. You need only have asked.”
“You’re busy.”
Payne smiled wryly. “Yes, and I was only on my honeymoon. I had nothing better to do than scrub up a noble savage, take him shopping, and teach him to dance.”
“What?” Bram looked at Thorne in astonishment. “No.”
Thorne turned away.
Bram’s smug inquiries pursued him. “You danced? And Colin gave you lessons?”
“You act as though the pleasure should be mine,” Payne said. “It was rather a trial on my part, I’ll have you know. But thanks to my darling wife’s influence, I’m learning to embrace my academic duty. I’ve long been a scholar of the female sex. Since I’m now happily married and devoted to one particular woman, it would be miserly of me to hoard such accumulated knowledge for myself.”
“No doubt.” Bram laughed. To Thorne, he said, “Good God. If you put up with this for a week, you must really love that girl.”
Payne resumed his suave, professorial demeanor. “It’s like this, Thorne. If you mean to ask for a woman’s heart, you have to be willing to take risks of your own. Real ones. Not just dancing lessons.”
Thorne set his jaw. He’d given up his home for Katie. He’d spent years hungry in the countryside, then hungry in prison, then hungry and marching in the army. “I’ve sacrificed for her. I’ve given her as much as a man like me can give.”
Payne chuckled. “You may think so. But they want everything, man. You can empty your pockets and lay down your body, and they still won’t be satisfied. Not until you serve up your heart, still beating.”
Bram sighed. “Once again, I will translate for my cousin. Just tell Miss Taylor you love her. That’s all they really want to hear.”
Love. It all kept coming back to that word. It would be easy enough to tell Katie he loved her. Speaking the words wasn’t any great task. But to tell her so in a way that made them both believe it . . . that was the challenge.
“Did you want to practice again?” Payne asked.
“No.”
“I don’t mind taking the lady’s part. I’m secure enough in my masculinity.”
“I said no.”
Payne straightened his cravat. “Really, Thorne. I’m only trying to help. ‘No, thank you’ might be more polite.”
“Etiquette isn’t my strong point.”
“Yes, but that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? It’s why you came to me for help. If you mean to win that woman—that lady—and make her your wife, you’ll have to make it your strong point. And quickly.”
Thorne shushed him. The small orchestra had struck up a new tune, and he strained to hear.
“That’s the waltz,” Payne confirmed. “You’re on.”
Bram clapped Thorne on the shoulder. “Go to it, then.”
“No pressure,” Payne said. “It’s only your one chance at happiness, you know. It’s only the rest of your life.”
Thorne cut him a glare as he shouldered open the door. “Not helping.”
As he made his way through the connecting door and down the short stretch of corridor to the ballroom, nerves danced in his gut. But once he spied her at the opposite end, all his anxiety disappeared—replaced by awe.
He hadn’t laid eyes on her in nearly a week.