The Sea Rose (11 page)

Frankie turned on the seat and gazed
at him in shock. “You can’t really mean you want to tear it down? I
understand your feelings, but it’s a beautiful house
regardless.”

He slowed the horses as he approached
the front. Already a lad from the stables waited at the walk for
his return. Thomas took in the façade and tried to appraise it with
an unjaded eye. From an architectural standpoint it was a beautiful
building. His mother and father would have demanded no less from
their London residence. But, unlike his parents, Thomas had no love
for the bricks and stone that made up the three stories of
Wallingham House.

“
I think I understand how
you feel.” Frankie’s tone was soft and quiet, soothing. “But it’s
your house now. You can do anything you want with it. It would be a
shame, though, to let him win. Wouldn’t it?”

Thomas pulled his eyes from the
second-story corner window that had been his when he stayed there
and turned to the lady on the seat next to him. Her eyes were such
a vivid shade of kelly green they mesmerized him for a moment until
she blinked and he pulled himself out of his reverie. He hopped
down from the carriage and extended his hand to her. “I guess it
would.” He smiled at her, and the concern in her eyes
lessened.

“
So how can I
help?”

“
If it’s not to be
demolished, then I need to make it mine.”

Frankie brightened. “Oh. Can I help
redecorate?”

His butler swung open the massive oak
door, revealing the foyer and the first of the sculptures and
paintings which had been his mother’s obsession. Thomas followed
Frankie down the hall, staying close behind her as she surveyed
each objet d’art. Her scent, a beguiling combination of rosemary
and lemon, lingered behind her, urging him to press his nose to her
hair.

“
You know, I think I can
count on one hand the number of times I’ve been here,” Frankie told
him, “which is funny considering the amount of time you spent in
ours.”

“
Even after I left?” He
slipped a hand to the small of her back, a gesture which should
have been entirely innocent yet felt anything but. He could feel
the flex of her hips and spine as she continued her stroll, and the
intimacy of that sensation warmed him.

“
Especially after you
left.” She turned to face him, and Thomas had to step back in order
to avoid her breast grazing his arm. What a shame, really, since at
this very moment he had a great deal of curiosity about Frankie’s
breasts. “There was no way Mama was going to support your mother
socially after that, and I quite agreed with her.”

“
Your mother never said
anything in her letters.” The duchess’s letters had been few and
far between, but still as frequent as one would have expected
considering there was a war and he was at sea much of the
time.

“
Well, she wouldn’t have,
would she?”

No she wouldn’t. The duchess had been
his most stalwart protector. Thomas had long known where the
Belling family’s loyalties lay. Even after leaving on a bad note,
he’d still believed that he would be welcomed back into that family
upon his return. That knowledge was what had kept him sane when the
cannonballs were flying. If he’d not had them… Thomas shuddered.
There would have been nothing to live for.

“
What should I do with all
this…” Thomas waved his hand in a sweeping gesture, encompassing
all the nonsense his mother amassed, “…stuff?”

“
Is the whole house like
this?”

“
Indeed.” He steered her
into the front parlor where there was no shortage of useless items
for her to assess, then he turned to the patiently waiting butler.
“Masters, have someone bring tea and something to eat. I’m
starving.”

“
Right away, my lord.” His
man turned on his heel with a nod. Masters and the rest of the
household staff may have been the finest part of his
inheritance.

“
Actually, I quite like
this piece.” Frankie stood in a shaft of light, her back to him and
the doorway. She tilted her head to the side as if to change the
light on the watercolor landscape in front of her. A long tendril
of auburn hair escaped the knot at the back of her head and, as
Thomas watched, fascinated, it slowly slipped around the nape of
her neck then curled along her collarbone. She turned her head and
smiled at him. “Are you dead set on ridding the house of
everything?”

Thomas blinked. “I’ll leave that up to
you, I think.”

She nodded in confirmation. “I like
this one. You should keep it.”

Together, they perched on the
god-awful furniture, drank tea and nibbled on biscuits and
pastries, and studiously avoided all the important topics of
conversation that would have to be tackled eventually. Frankie
asked after his war experiences, and Thomas provided bland details,
told her he was never in danger. The looks of both concern and,
after, relief warmed him as much as the scant contact they’d had
earlier. It made the lie worth it.

Francesca laid her tea cup on the
table. “I can’t say I’m sorry your family is gone. Perhaps that
sentiment will award me a seat in hell, but their passing brought
you home safe to us.” Frankie paused then continued barely over a
whisper. “Mama fretted so. I fretted.”

“
It was never my intention
to make you worry, you know. There were many reasons I
left.”

Frankie’s lips spread in a wan smile.
“I know.” She shook her head. “You must be feeling quite
overwhelmed with all you have to take over.”

She didn’t know the half of it.
Between the houses, the estates, and investments, not to mention
his brother’s gambling markers… “I would say that I’m a bit at sea
with the whole thing, but the irony would be too much. Since they
were buried before I returned, that’s one less thing for me to make
a decision on. Of course Father never expected me to have any of
this, such as it is. Fortunately, his secretary is competent, so
I’ll figure it all out eventually.”

She reached across the space and laid
her hand on his forearm. “I am absolutely certain that is true. Of
course, Christian will help any way he’s able.”

Thomas had been able to count on his
best friend, Frankie’s brother, for anything. “I have plans.”
Granted, they had been thinly sketched, but he did have plans, and
they seemed to be coming together better than he’d ever
imagined.

“
You know, Christian is
going to be absolutely fierce when he finds out I saw you first.”
Her smile took on a decidedly impish glee. “I can’t
wait.”

Thomas was excited about seeing
Christian and the duchess, too. But not right now. He was as
surprised as anyone would be that he didn’t want to share his time
with anyone but Frankie.

“
Do you want to see the
rest of the house?” He extended a hand to her, and she slipped her
fingers into his palm. She rose from the settee with fluid poise.
Francesca had been a tall girl, gangly and often awkward. No
longer. Coltish gawkiness had dissolved into lithe, willowy
grace.

He led her from room to room, floor to
floor. Frankie schooled him in the latest styles and fashions in
interior decorating. Thomas didn’t care one single bit about
moldings and wallpaper and the vast differences between chintz and
silk, or stripes versus floral prints. What he did care about, and
what kept him absolutely riveted to the conversation, was the
exhilarating, unsettled feeling that had grown in his belly and
steadily moved down to his groin as they walked the floors of his
parents’ home. Like a seventeen-year-old boy, he found himself
scheming as they moved along, trying to maneuver himself in
position to come into physical contact with her.

“
I think this room would
be very interesting with an Egyptian theme. What do you think?” she
asked him. Before he could process the question, she was already
describing the scene as she saw it, the furniture, upholstery and
bric-a-brac.

“
Sure,” Thomas replied,
certain that whatever harebrained scheme she came up with in
regards to his home would still be a far sight better than the dry
mausoleum his mother had assembled.

“
Do I have a budget?” she
wondered as they headed up the stairs to the family
apartments.

“
I hardly think it prudent
to give you free rein,” he said, recalling some of the epic battles
the childhood Frankie had waged with her father over her allowance.
“Be reasonable is all I ask.”

At the landing, Thomas turned them to
the right and into the bedrooms he and his brother used as
children. Should it bother him that nothing in these rooms meant
anything to him? In fact, with the exception of the window and the
massive tree outside whose limbs facilitated countless nighttime
escapes, nothing seemed familiar enough to claim as his
own.

Frankie wandered about the rooms,
silent and suddenly pensive, as if the excitement had leached out
of her. Her fingers slid across the top of a bureau then across the
smooth counterpane on the bed as she took in the contents of the
room.

“
What do you want to do
with these rooms?” she asked, her tone so gentle it unnerved
him.

“
Gut them. Take everything
out. All the family rooms.”

“
Oh, Thomas, I’m so
sorry.” She walked swiftly across the carpet towards him. “For
everything.”

“
This wasn’t your
fault.”

“
Still, I’m sorry your
father was such a bastard and your mother was so cold. I’m sorry
your brother was rotten.” Tears filled her eyes, making them
impossibly green and shimmery. She choked on a sob. “But mostly,
I’m so sorry about what I did. I’m so sorry I made you leave. Will
you ever forgive me?” Frankie flung herself, sobbing, in his
arms.

For the first time ever, Thomas didn’t
feel completely alone in his house.

About the Author

Amylynn read her first romance novel in 2008
after being a lifelong literary snob.  By the time she was
done, she was hooked.

Amylynn is an Arizona native and lives in the
same house her husband owned before they were married. 
Amylynn fears she will never call another state home unless someone
tells her husband there are forty nine others to choose from. 
In reality, she’d settle for a walk-in closet. 

Her family consists of the aforementioned
husband, two beautiful children, two dogs, two cats, some fish, and
a hankering for a panda. She’d like it mentioned she’s never been
in prison but we’ll see how that panda thing works out.

Visit her at her blog
http://www.thequillsisters.com