Page 9 of An Unwitting Alliance
Tom smirked. “Thank you, Mr. Romance, for your vote of confidence.”
“I thought Paul held out for a long time,” Jemma argued, her dark brows pulled tight. “He did his best, but we cannot blame him for following his heart. Perhaps Lord and Lady Felcroft think the same will happen for Tom.” Tom had nicknamed JemmaVixenfor several good reasons, but primarily because of her spirited nature. Even now it was clear her sharp blue eyes were studying the complex situation in her mind. She had been one of the most vocal against marriage.
While they had all solemnly agreed to fight againstarrangedmarriages, the topic of marriage itself was not wholly agreed upon by the group. After Paul’s wedding, they were all confused about the subject.
“Tom, we will support you, whatever it is you choose.” Lisette’s soft words were as light as her coloring and vastly comforting. Leave it to their resident angel to ease the tension building in the room. He knew they would all support him, even if it meant going to battle against Society’s expectations and, unfortunately, the expectations of their own mothers.
“We will support you more if you are against it,” Ian declared. “If you buckle, one of us will be next.”
“Why don’t I put you all at ease?” Tom inched forward in his seat. “I will return home and confront my parents.”
“Perhaps we should wait here until you return with their response.” Miles combed back his black curls with his hand and sighed. “We need more information if we are to formulate a plan to aid you.”
“Yes.” Jemma started listing things on her fingers. “We need the woman’s name, where she is from, and what she is like. The latter might not seem important, but it is imperative we know what we are up against. If I know Lady Felcroft, she will be thrilled that you’re asking about a woman and will be all too happy to supply the details.”
“All that truly matters is if the engagement is official.” Ian shifted in his throne. “Discover whether any contracts have been discussed, drawn up, or signed. Blast, why was Paul in such a hurry to leave on his wedding trip? We could have used his legal expertise.”
Tom stood. The air in the room was entirely too serious. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I merely need one conversation with my parents to put this whole mess to rights.”
His friends wished him luck, and once he was outside the Dome, he mounted his stallion, Zeus, and rode home to Rivenwood. “All right, Charley,” Tom said, glancing from the road in front of his mount to the early-afternoon sky. “If this is a joke of yours, I’ve had a good laugh.”
He didn’t pray anymore, not after God took away his brother. He did, however, speak with his brother out loud when he had a great deal on his mind. Charley never had the decency to talk back—whether that was heaven’s rules or his brother’s way of mocking him, he would never know—but even though nothing in their childhood banter had ever been serious, Tom had always felt better after hashing out his problems with his brother.
When he arrived home, he took the front steps two at a time. He stopped just inside and dusted himself off. Dressed in his best blue dress coat, his mother’s favorite, he knew he could not feel any more confident to state his case. He pushed the drawing room door open in search of his parents only to find it empty. Once he located his parents, he would humor them before politely declining the arrangement. Surely Paul would have advised a similar tactic when approaching a disagreeable matter in court. Ian was right—if only their friend had not abandoned them in favor of his wedding trip.
Tom’s boots clicked on the tile floor as he strode down the corridors of Rivenwood. He wasn’t nervous. That would be ridiculous. He was merely anxious to put this whole thing behind him. Faint voices sounded from behind his father’s study door. Not bothering to knock, Tom let himself in.
“Oh, Tom! I was hoping you would return soon.” His mother leaned over his father’s desk, her pale-blonde curls falling into her eyes.
Tom had interrupted a private conversation, but that had been his intention. Allowing his parents time for further conspiring would only make things worse. He had seen how ridiculous the town’s scheming mothers had made Paul’s courtship, and there would be no volunteering for more of the same.
Casually seating himself in an embroidered chair across from his parents, he attempted to look both mature and confident. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“Heard what?” his father asked. He gathered a pile of papers together and stacked them neatly on his desk. His father might be an older version of Tom in appearance, with dark hair and an athletic form, and both had more energy than they quite knew what to do with, but their personalities differed greatly. His father often lacked drive and motivation. Tom, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted—to remain just as he was, a bachelor and a Rebel.
He cleared his throat. “Lady Kellen and Mrs. Sheldon convinced Mama that I am in need of a wife. I laughed when I heard, of course, because my parents are far too wise to resort to such backhanded methods.” He kept his voice cheerful and nonchalant.
Mama put her fingernail between her teeth. “Dear me, we did hope to be the ones to tell you. But let me assure you the other matrons did not persuade me; they have only offered their full support. Though, I admit the abundance of love and happiness at Paul’s wedding today gave me the encouragement I needed to press forward.”
“A sentimental thought, Mama, but your efforts are not required. I came here directly to say I am perfectly content as I am. Your worries concerning me can be over. I have everything well in hand.” Didn’t he look content? He smiled to demonstrate.
“Do you? Then, your heart is already attached to another?” Papa’s sarcasm grated, but Tom refused to let it show.
Immediately, his mind conjured up an image of Miss Smith—not Miss Smith. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, annoyed at the persistent way a woman he hardly knew plagued him. But it was guilt and no more. He looked Papa in the eye. “I’m attached to a great deal of people. In fact, I care about everyone in Brookeside.”
His mother’s soft, full cheeks pulled into a placating smile. “You are just like your father. Your heart is good, butoccasionallyyou are misguided.”
Papa gave an affronted laugh. “Remember, I am on your side.”
Tom, who could usually find the humor in any situation, saw none in this. “Father and I might occasionally be mistaken for each other from behind, but that is the extent of our similarities.”
Mama shook her head. “Both of you are slow to make important decisions and take a great deal of pushing.”
Had he not just thought the very opposite? “This is one matter you can be assured I will not be slow to address.”
“Keep an open mind, son.” Papa steepled his fingers together. “Your mother has agonized over this for many years, and I myself was not convinced of its necessity until recently. After observing your behavior, we have come to a decision we feel is in your best interest.”
“What behavior, specifically? I was not under the impression that I had done anything wrong.” He was a pleasant fellow. Everyone thought so.
