Page 41 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
Fun.
Yes, that’s what it was. Being with Thorne wasfun. Which was remarkable.
“Do you knoweveryone?” she teased, even as the coach rolled to a stop.
“Aye, I like people,” he said simply, reaching for the door. “I like meeting them, learning their stories, and I dinnae care where they’re from. They’re still interesting.”
She watched him climb out of the carriage and turn to offer his hand, as if she was a fine lady. “I think you must be the most remarkable man I’ve ever met, Thorne Cumming.”
His laughter buoyed them into the music hall.
She’d visited music halls before, of course, but this one was unusual. Instead of the sedate Society audience she expected, this room—the building—was filled with…well,everyone.
There was a lively band playing on a little dais in the corner, rather than an orchestra upon a stage. Arranged around theedges there were tables and chairs where people sat and drank concoctions sold at a bar. And in the middle of the room, people danced.
Andohhow they danced!
Currently the band played a polka, and in the middle of the room, couples swept through the steps, as a joyous energy filled the space.
The couples weren’t who she expected, either. There were finely dressed men and women, and a few men wearing the clothing of laborers. And more than a few women whose gowns were pulled just a little too low in the front to be proper.
Along the walls, there were more couples laughing and standing—or sitting—together, of all combinations. Women sat too close to men for good propriety, and in the shadows of a large fern, two men appeared to be whispering at one another and laughing. A pair of women sitting in chairs near the band held hands as if their lives depended upon it, and one group of two men and a woman seemed perfectly content to all hold one another.
“What is this place?” Kit laughed, raising her voice over the music as Thorne led her to a free table.
“This, darling, is freedom!” He grinned down at her. “Here people can be themselves, and we’re near enough to the theater district that no one judges anyone else. I told ye I wanted to dance, aye?”
“Aye,” she laughed, sweeping her arm wide as she took a seat. “And there’s plenty of opportunity to do so!”
His hand lingered on her shoulder, but then he was gone, heading for the bar. She watched him make his way through the crowd, responding to people who called himThorneinstead ofYour Grace, happily at ease here.
A truly remarkable sort of duke, Kit could admit. A remarkableman. A remarkablesoul.
Thorne was full of such enthusiasm and delight, and he wanted those around him to be happy.
He has a darkness in his past, remember.
Yes, but perhaps that’swhyhe was full of such desperate light now.
He was laughing when he returned with a pair of ales and plunked down beside her. They both scooted their chairs closer together, and when they realized what they’d done, shared a smile.
“This way we can continue our conversation.” This close he didn’t have to yell.
Kit sipped from her ale and shook her head. “I want to hear aboutyourfamily now. And your childhood. You said you traveled?”
His gaze was on her lips, and she wondered if he was remembering that kiss in the dark carriage. But he reached out and gently swiped his thumb across her upper lip. She felt the tingle of bubbles, and realized the foam had given her the mustache she’d needed.
“My parents were homebodies,” he began, “and I was quite the spoiled little lad. I didnae really travel until Blackrose began to send me on missions, after I finished my education. As a child, I never wanted to leave home.”
There was that name again—Blackrose. And what sort ofmissions? Kit pushed the questions aside, focusing on what he could tell her. “Spoiled? You?”
“Anything I wanted, I got.” Grinning, he drank from his ale. “My parents never told me I had to be proper, and anything I showed an interest in, they jumped at the chance to give it to me.”
“Like what?” she challenged.
“Fishing? Father took me to the wharfs every day one spring to help pull in the nets. Ballet? They hired a private instructor. And when I wanted to learn to do backhandsprings, they brought in a circus acrobat to teach me. That same woman taught me pugilism, now that I think of it.”
Now it was Thorne’s turn to have the ale-residue on his upper lip. Without thinking, and still chuckling at the stories of his childhood, Kit reached out to wipeherthumb along his upper lip.
