He laughed softly as he closed the door behind him. “I see from your face that you do not believe. Not yet. I’m sorry for it. But perhaps there is a great deal that has taught you not to. You disagree that action will help?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Action is the only way forward, but belief? I cannot…”
“You must believe in the possibilities,” he said, “or else none of them shall open to you. Did you believe that you could find help here?”
“Yes,” she confessed.
He leaned down ever so slightly, then said in a tone that sounded very much like a vow, “Then you shall.”
Chapter 7
Tom took in the formidable young lady standing before him who had dared to cross through the night of London into his realm.
Yes, she had dared to cross his threshold into a world that she had never ventured, and come up the stairs into his office alone. His admiration for her grew intensely.
Was she mad to do such a thing? No, he did not think so. If anything, her actions drove home to him how very sane she was in a world where those about her were constantly denying the truth of themselves.
She? She seemed remarkably self-possessed. There was no agitation, no nerves about her. How was it possible?
The sheer resolve in her was shocking and he loved it.
Was it possible that she had a plan of her own? He cocked his head to the side and gestured for her to near the crackling fire.
She looked cold, though she did not shiver.
He wondered if that coldness went all the way to her bones and deep into her soul. Had life taken all the warmth out of her as it had stolen her hopes and dreams? He hated to think that it was possible, but it seemed likely.
“Come,” he urged. “Have a brandy.”
Her blonde eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “A brandy?” she queried.
He smiled slowly, hoping to put her at ease before he shrugged. “I don’t carry sherry or a ratafia. So…”
“I’ll take the brandy,” she said quickly.
“Good woman.”
She smiled at that “I think I need to fortify myself for this conversation.”
“You need to make a fortress of yourself, do you?” he queried as he headed to the sideboard and the grog tray.
Quickly, he picked up the crystal decanter and poured out the amber liquid into two fresh matching snifters, his staff having already tidied away all evidence of Blackwood’s visit.
He swirled the rich liquid around the bowls then cupping them in his palms, warming the liquid, he crossed to her where she lingered in the firelight.
Her hair glowed almost white before the fire, like the brightest of stars in the night sky. Her eyes were dark like stones at the bottom of the river that flowed through his Scottish friend’s estates.
And yet, there was nothing girlish or frivolous… or even simply youthfully optimistic about her.
Suddenly, he wondered how someone so clearly jaded had become the ton’s diamond.
But then he realized, she had altered even since he had seen her, and he felt his heart tighten with concern.
As she stood in his room, she did not seem like a diamond at all. Oh no. She seemed like something else. Like obsidian. Something dark, something hard and he wished that he could shine light upon it.
It was a foolish wish of course.
He knew the danger of attempting to rescue people. Help? Yes. Rescue? No. And yet he found himself pulled towards her, his heart awakening in a way it had not done in years.