Let There Be Desire, My Duke by Violet Hamers

Author:Violet Hamers
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

T homas stormed out of the Alderleaf Manor gardens, hating himself and hating the world. It was a small miracle of timing the guard and watchdog did not come upon him; they had to have been circling the other side of the property. Thomas certainly did not refrain from making noise, at this point more than willing to sink into the mire of self-pity and confusion.

The streets were quiet this time of night, save for the occasional beggar and those touched in the head, abandoned to their own devices by ill-caring family members.

Thomas felt more than a little touched himself, as he stumbled his way back to Elvington Manor. His face hurt. His sides hurt.

It is my heart that hurts worst of all, Thomas thought, more than aware of his own syrupy sentimentality. Gerard was not wrong when he insisted Thomas was prone to often nonsensical dramatics.

By the time Thomas did at last make it home, it was not far from dawn. Despite the screaming of his injuries and immense exhaustion, rather than going straight to bed, he found himself in Father’s—his—study once more.

Out of some bullheaded sense of determination, Thomas had meant to pull each and every ledger from the bookshelf and go through them at length, desperate to stumble upon some clue as to whether or not the Duke of Alderleaf’s books could be trusted…but reality had other plans.

He’d hardly pulled the contents of the first shelf when his thoughts went fuzzy. A wave of nausea came over him, and he swallowed back his own sick, sweating profusely.

You’ve lost Father. Now you’ve lost Lady Evelina. All because you are operating off of hunches, and cannot find proof.

That was is final conscious thought before he collapsed to the ground, books and loose papers going everywhere.

It was the butler who found him there in the morning. He’d come to check in on the study and ensure it was ready for Thomas’ usage—typically, if Thomas had left things a mess the night before, the butler would send for someone to tidy it up while the family was at breakfast.

Today, Thomas was curled up against the desk, his chin resting atop his knees, feeling sick and upset and as a whole as though the world had ended. Dawn had come nearly an hour ago, but he hadn’t noticed the light through the window. His world felt fully dark now; as though there would never be sunshine again.

“Your Grace!” said the butler, aghast. He strode into the room, looking panicked. “Have you had some form of an attack?”

Thomas opened his mouth to respond that no, bandits had not burst into the house during the night to attack him once more, when he realized the butler was speaking of an attack of the body, or some form of ailment.

Only then did Thomas fully taken in his own state: rumpled clothes and hair, dry (likely bloodshot) eyes, the smell of yesterday’s chaos and trek across London.

“No,” Thomas managed, trying to get to his feet and regain some sort of dignity.

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