Predictably, in only a few hours the Humphrey family was gathered in the dining room, with food laid out before them, as Thomas and Vincent apprised them of the new developments. Despite Lupe's best efforts, Isabela had not wanted to settle for her, and was now strapped to Vincent's chest in some makeshift sling that Lupe had crafted out of a petticoat. The babe remained awake, staring up at Vincent with her solemn brown eyes. He couldn't help but feel... scrutinised...
"Vincent, what are your thoughts?"
His chin jerked up and he found the eyes of the room on him. His hand, resting against Isabela's back, curled slightly, cradling her closer still, as he scanned the expectant faces. Beside him, Thomas leant closer.
"It's been suggested we return to London," he said, smiling down at the little girl whose gaze shifted to him. He reached out, tapping her nose lightly; his smile expanded as she blinked rapidly, her tiny brow furrowing slightly. "She has your frown," he quipped, thoroughly distracted, "And my-"
The room saw the realisation hit, his dark complexion turning ashen as he froze in place. Isabela's skin was dark, darker than Lupe's or any of the other Spanish women. Her eyes were blacker, her hair straighter, and her chin...
There was a portrait that used to hang in the hall of the Thorne estate. The duke was standing in the centre, lording his wealth and importance over the room, with his docile wife almost fading into the background beside him. At either elbow cowered a son. The resemblance was clear, even if the sharp Thorne chin was softened on the face of a child.
It was Isabela's chin.
"My God..." Thomas' stomach roiled as the words broke free, and he hurriedly pushed himself away from the table. "I think I'm going to be sick."
He staggered to the corner, supporting himself against the wall as he sucked air in through his teeth. Thankfully, the staff had already been dismissed, and it was only the Humphrey family that watched him with wide eyes. Vincent rose from his seat, awkwardly freeing Isabela from the sling and passing her to Beth. His sister smiled at him, accepting the bundle, and immediately setting about hushing the disrupted child.
He crossed the room, following Thomas' path, and positioned himself between his family and Thomas. The Humphreys had the decency to focus back on their meals, or engage in muted discussions, but there was no doubt the attention of the room was on their corner.
Vincent simply waited.
Although he didn't turn, Thomas could feel the presence behind him, drinking in the calm reassurance as his stomach slowly settled. Eventually, he let out one long breath, and moved just enough to catch Vincent's eye.
"She has my chin," he said softly, "my fa- the duke's chin."
The other man frowned, his gaze narrowing unseeingly on the wall beside Thomas' head while he considered that. Eventually he nodded.
"Well that confirms the duke's involvement," he said. He was not whispering, but the conversation remained between them.
"He... Gabriella..." Bile rose in Thomas' throat again, but Vincent closed the gap between them, setting his hand on the other man's forearm.
"I would not assume the worst. Gabriella was," he considered briefly, "tenacious. It would have been a bold way to protect herself and the others." The worst was still possible, but it would do Thomas no good to dwell on it, he decided.
Behind them, Isabela let out a disgruntled gurgle, twisting uncomfortably in Beth's grip. The child called out again, demanding their return, and Vincent opted for a trick he'd learnt from Thomas himself; he raised his eyebrow.
The man sighed, but there was a smile hiding at the corner of his lips. With only a moment's hesitation, he returned to the table and scooped Isabela out of Beth's arms. He sank into his seat, placing the girl on the edge of the table. She swayed, but stayed sitting with his hands supporting her hips. She was clearly happy with her new view of the world, her gaze drifting around the room and finding Vincent. Then she gurgled happily.
Vincent returned to his own seat, offering his finger for her to grip when she waved a sticky fist in his direction, and then turned an even look to the rest of the room. The only family member who betrayed their curiosity was Phil, who glanced between the three of them with a tilted head.
"So we return to London?"
Simon smiled at him and replied easily. "You and Thomas tomorrow, and then the rest of us will follow. If you're agreeable?"
Vincent glanced around the table. Simon's smile was as encouraging as Bart's stoicism. Matt was grinning, Phil was studying the room, and their eldest sister was squeezing her husband's hand. David was tense â understandably, the involvement of the Thorne's and that mysterious flower was personal for him â but he offered Vincent a tense smile. Lastly, his gaze returned to Thomas whose face had softened, breaking into a full grin as Isabela's spare hand reached out to bop him inelegantly on the nose.
Yes, he was agreeable.
.
The next morning, Lupe and Isabela clambered into one of the Humphrey carriages shortly after dawn, settling on the plush seats amongst several blankets and a hamper of food the cook had dotingly prepared. The question of the girls accompanying them had never really been voiced, just assumed. Lupe was, of course eager to join them and find her friends, letting out a relieved sigh as Vincent struggled to explain the journey to her. And Isabela... Well, joining them was clearly her preference as she put up a fuss when either man tried to leave her overnight. Vincent and Thomas had exchanged a look and a shrug, respectively, and then settled in for what proved to be quite a good evening in the nursery. By the morning, neither even thought to suggest that she stay behind.
And then there was Matt, who, rather than declare his intention to accompany them, simply arrived at the stables before the pair. He was saddling his horse, poking the cheeky animal in the stomach as it tried to prevent its girth from being tightened, when their approach caught his eye. He turned towards them, offering his cheeky mount a sugar cube as he grinned at them.
"Good morning!"
Vincent rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be clapped on the shoulder as he walked past and accepted his own horse from the stable-hand.
Thomas seemed more surprised.
"Are you accompanying us to London?"
Matt grinned. "Someone has to keep you pair out of trouble!"
As almost all of the Humphrey family was expected in London over the coming days, Simon had sent word ahead to have their London home opened up in preparation. It was still a few weeks before the season would begin, but as they arrived in the evening the housekeeper had done a remarkable job of airing and preparing the house.
Almost immediately, Matt disappeared, wishing them luck on their task for the evening and heading in search of merriment. Vincent was not particularly surprised, but Thomas let out a loud laugh as the younger man strode off down the street.
"Some help he'll be!"
With yet more help from the housekeeper, Lupe and Isabela were set up comfortably in a makeshift nursery, with dinner promised to them as soon as it was ready. The same invitation was offered to Vincent and Thomas, but they declined. Neither man was inclined to sit around when there was the possibility of answers.
So they returned to the docks.
Unlike the last time Thomas had visited, the markets were long-abandoned, and the hackney cab let them out onto an empty street that was dimly lit by the occasional lamppost.
"Whatever business you've got, I don't reckon you'll find it here," the driver warned them, "Not at this time of night!"
Vincent's quick perusal of the buildings closest to them led him to agree with the man; doors and shutters were closed, lamps extinguished, and he'd still yet to see a hint of movement.
Thomas stroked the flank of the horse closest to him as he tossed his head at the driver. "Do you know where we might find the local tradesmen instead?"
Indeed he did.
He drove them an extra few minutes, depositing them on a street that seemed just as deserted until one noticed the lively pub spilling occupants onto the corner. It was rundown, the sign missing so many letters that its original name was no longer discernible, but it was not short of patrons.
As they approached, Thomas loosened his cravat.
"Now, Mister Donaldson was a bit..." his hesitation was fractional, but Vincent's eyes narrowed nonetheless, "brusque last time, but don't be put off." He gave a lopsided shrug, catching Vincent's gaze. "Mind you, you're a Humphrey; he might love you!"
Thomas reached the front door, pressing a hand to the rough wood and pushing his way inside. Vincent followed cautiously, already aware of the eyes on them. This was not a place oft visited by the peerage, he was certain of it, and they were conspicuous as they stepped inside. Slowly, the harsh voices trailed off, sweaty glares cutting through the mirth of the room.
Thomas seemed oblivious â or, and more likely in Vincent's opinion, he projected obliviousness like a shield â having spotted his large quarry across the room. Hugh Donaldson had not shrunk â or perhaps bathed â since his last encounter with Thomas, and either could have been the reason he was sitting alone at a small table in the corner.
"Mister Donaldson, good evening," Thomas said brightly, sliding into an empty chair before the man could instruct him otherwise. He inclined his head slightly at Vincent, but the other man preferred to stand; the tension in the room had the hairs at the back of his neck on end, and he wanted to keep an eye on as many men as possible. He inched to the side, putting his back to the wall, and watched Thomas continue. "Can we buy you a drink? Three ales, my good man!" This last was called to the barkeep, who only moved to pin Hugh with a questioning look.
The tradesman levelled a long flat look at Thomas, taking him in without his eyes moving even slightly. He didn't seem surprised to see the younger man again, but neither was he happy. Eventually he nodded incrementally, and the barkeep set about pouring the drinks with a shrug.
Hugh's opinion clearly carried weight; a slight hubbub took up once he'd given his approval of them, and Vincent relaxed as most of the eyes in the room drifted away from them.
"What d'you want?" Hugh asked, setting his tankard down forcefully. "I thought I did you your favour."
Thomas did not appear the least perturbed by his attitude. "Indeed you did, good sir, indeed you did!" In a bold move, he clapped Hugh roughly on the arm, though it seemed to shake Thomas more than the hulking trader.
Vincent watched on, fighting a curve of his mouth. Knowing Thomas as he did now, it was amusing to watch him put on a façade, to play the character that people expected of him. When they'd first met, he'd found it insincere and frustrating, but now he watched Thomas grin at Hugh's flaring nostrils and fought an eye roll.
"And I've brought you a gift for your kindness; a real, live Humphrey!"
Vincent suddenly found it less amusing.
As Thomas' hand extended towards him, Hugh's gave followed, and the man assessed him with a measured gaze. Vincent fought the urge to shift in place. As Hugh took in his tousled brown hair, grown out to the point where he really should tie it back, and his plain but well-fitting brown suit, his expression did not even flicker.
He didn't speak until their gaze met again. "You ain't my Humphrey, the one I'm used to dealing with."
No, he's mine.
As soon as the unexpected thought crossed his mind, Thomas' hand drifted up to his mouth as if to keep the words in. Hugh was already disinclined to like him, and there was no telling what kind of reception that particular statement would receive in a pub like this. And ignoring all that, he'd only kissed the man two days prior! There was absolutely no reason to feel that possessive of him.
Thomas dragged his attention back to Vincent, who was meeting Hugh's eyes with a soft frown. As his mouth opened and closed, and opened again, Thomas considered intervening for the tiniest moment, before swallowing it down. It may have been well-intentioned, he assured himself, but it was most definitely unwelcome. Vincent had made that clear. And, just as importantly, it was unnecessary.
"The...He... I am not. It is my eldest brother Simon who has had the pleasure of your correspondence," Vincent said eventually, softly but firmly, his hands moving to clasp behind his back. "He did ask me to thank you for your latest advice regarding his investment in the Hadley mines. His Man of Business is arranging a small thank you as we speak."
A lessor man would have instantly softened at the promise of money. Unfortunately for them, Mister Donaldson appeared unswayed. He did dip his head, acknowledging Vincent's words, before looking back at Thomas who lounged beside him. His eyes narrowed.
"You ain't gonna convince me that's all you came for."
Thomas' smile didn't falter. "Well, now that you mention it, we-"
Hugh held up a hand to cut him off. "I'd rather hear it from the Humphrey," he grunted, chucking his chin at Vincent.
Ever amiable, Thomas joined him in looking at the third man. As Hugh gestured for him to take a seat, Vincent sunk into it slowly, casting one more look around the room. They were largely ignored now, though he noticed a bar maid approaching and held his silence until she'd placed their drinks on the table. In her haste to make eyes at Thomas, she nearly sloshed ale onto both Hugh and Vincent's laps, and each let out a grunt of protest that was ignored.
"Anythin' else I can get yas?" she attempted to croon, her eyelids batting hurriedly.
For the first time, Thomas' smile faltered. His gaze jumped from her face, leaning over him as she was in her low-cut shirt, to Vincent's over her shoulder. Seriousness descended on him. "No thank you."
She huffed, and disappeared back to the bar, no doubt disappointed not to have enticed the handsome lord.
As Hugh took a sip of his ale â which surely tasted sweeter having been paid for by another â Thomas tilted his head in question at Vincent, but the other man wasn't confident he knew what was being asked.
The trader set his tankard down firmly, drawing their attention, and jerked his scruffy chin at Vincent once more. "Out with it then!"
Vincent nodded slowly. "When... The... Thank you for the information you provided Thomas. It was greatly useful and indeed helped us find the shipping company we were after. Unfortunately..." This was where the tale got tricky â there were lots of people to protect, not the least of which was Hugh. "Unfortunately, they change location frequently and we have... lost them."
Hugh's gaze had only narrowed as Vincent spoke. "And why does it matter to you where they've got to?"
Vincent attempted a smile. "We wish to conduct some business with them."
"What kinda 'business'?"
Vincent would forever be mortified that his mind, which he so valued, went completely blank. "... shipping business."
Thomas let out a tiny noise and hid his mouth behind his tankard of ale. Flushing, Vincent followed suit, choking down a few mouthfuls of the bitter liquid. When he lowered his drink, Hugh was smirking at him.
"Your friend is a terrible liar." The comment was directed at Thomas.
"I know." Thomas looked neither ashamed nor contrite; he was grinning at Vincent, his eyes dancing.
Vincent took another large gulp of ale.
"What he says is true though," Thomas said, leaning forward in his chair to set his elbows on his knees. There was an intensity in his eyes that hadn't been there moments earlier. "We need to find them. Urgently."
Hugh's expression turned serious again, his heavy brow crowding down against his eyes. "Not saying I'd help if I could, but I dunno anything more than I told you the first time. A man of mine had just happened by the symbol you was after the week b'fore â me and him wouldn't know where to look for them any more than you."
Vincent and Thomas both made valiant efforts to hide their disappointment, but neither quite succeeded. Vincent fell into a heavy frown and asked Hugh a few more questions â where did the man find the symbol? Had they heard of the company before? Had they heard of any companies popping up and then disappearing like this one? Could he find the proprietor who had let the property? â whilst Thomas turned his own questions inwards.
Without knowing where the shipping company had moved or which factory they were masquerading in, there was little chance they could find the Spanish women. London was a mighty big city, and those that were trying to get lost often stayed that way. Thomas' jaw clamped shut, fighting against the guilt that welled in him. He should have done something sooner, something to save them, and now he might have missed his opportunity. And beneath that pain flared the flames of rage; if his family was involved in this, it might have been his one opportunity to-
His mind froze mid-thought. He must have gasped aloud, because two concerned gazes twisted in his direction. "The duke. Uh, Duke Thorne, my f-" Even as the words tumbled from his mouth, he shied away from naming his connection to his father. "Last time we spoke, Mister Donaldson, you told me you'd heard rumours about Duke Thorne, that he had a reputation."
Hugh nodded slightly, his frown fixed in place.
"Would you be able to find him?" Thomas shook his head slightly, "Or rather, his Man of Business, or someone he deals with. The less reputable the better."
The tradesman leant back in his chair, his tankard forgotten on the table. As he folded his arms across his broad chest, one hand drifted up to scratch the stubble on his chin. "You seem different than last time..." he said after a long moment, his gaze never flinching from Thomas'. "Less... useless."
Thomas briefly contemplated being offended. Then he dipped his head in acknowledgement. The man was impertinent, but he was correct. The start of their conversation that evening had been the first time in weeks he'd put on the façade or pretended to be anyone other than himself. He had felt useful these last few months, like he was almost enough as he was.
But this was not the time for those thoughts.
He assumed that Hugh could find his father's crooked connections if he so chose, so the question became: "Will you help us?"
Vincent watched on in silence, his frown contemplative.
Hugh glanced between them. He sat forward suddenly, picking up his mug and downing the last of his ale in three large gulps. He let out a noise of satisfaction as he ran the back of his hand across his mouth. Then he nodded. "Aye, I'll find what you need." He wagged a finger at Thomas, "Keep in mind though, it's not-"
Thomas felt a wave of relief roll through him and he chuckled, interrupting Hugh with his own hands raised in surrender. "I know, I know; it's for Lord Humphrey, not none of us Thornes!"
The tradesman grunted. "Nah," he said, shaking his large head, "this time it's for you; the last decent Thorne left standing."
Thomas had to swallow down the sudden rise of emotion. He let his hair distract him, raking the dark curls away from his eyes before he could meet Hugh's gaze with a devilish smile. "There are many who'd say I'm fairly indecent, actually."
"But I bet nones who'd say it would be sitting here buying me drinks."
Thomas' eyes narrowed. "Drinks?"
"Aye, drinks!" Hugh raised his hand to hail the barkeep, ordering them another round, and as Thomas threw back his head and laughed, the tradesman smiled for the first time that evening.
.
It was later than either of them had expected when they trudged back into the Humphrey's London home, both men breathing a heavy sigh of relief to be somewhere at least partially familiar. They let themselves in the front door, stealing quietly up the stairs in the hopes of not disturbing those already asleep.
Vincent's bedchamber was closest, coming off the landing just to the left of the stairs, and as he trudged towards his door, running his hand across his face, he felt Thomas pause behind him. He turned, frowning of course, but was distracted from voicing his question.
Thomas pressed himself forward, his hands snaking around the back of Vincent's neck and pulling their mouths together. The man's hesitation was momentary before instinct took over and he was kissing Thomas back, tasting the stale ale on his tongue. Thomas rose up onto his toes as Vincent's hand moved to his lower back, feeding the urge they both felt; more. They were pressed together from chest to thighs, and in one startling moment Vincent felt the evidence of Thomas' passion.
The surprise was enough to break the kiss, and he pulled away sharply. He tried to keep his gaze on Thomas'. He failed.
Thomas let out a low chuckle, putting a little distance between them. "Apologies," he murmured, running a hand along the back of his neck as he took his lower lip between his teeth in a sheepish smile. "I may have gotten carried away."
The logical part of Vincent's brain was functioning well enough to notice the envy that welled in his soul. There was no embarrassment or awkwardness in Thomas' manner, no stumbling, no hesitation, no retraction. He was confidence personified.
Whilst that part of him admired Thomas' attitude, the majority of him was still processing what he'd felt. He was not a child â he understood reproduction and anatomy as well as the next university-educated man â but what he and Thomas were doing... that was not something he'd found in textbooks.
He swallowed heavily. "The... We... Can we...?" There was no way his true question was ever going to make it from his lips, so Vincent settled for the broken fragments, hoping Thomas could decipher his meaning.
Thomas slowly closed the gap between them, though the heat from their kiss was absent. This was not a passionate embrace; it was an intimate one. "We can." The words were soft and calm â a straightforward answer to a straightforward question â and Thomas dipped his head to catch Vincent's eye. Only when he held the other man's gaze did he continue. "But we have no need to rush."
Vincent's confusion settled on his face as a deep frown, but Thomas either did not notice or chose to ignore it. He pressed a chaste kiss to the man's lips, and then slowly separated them, turning and strolling back towards his room with a call of, "Good night, Vincent."
And as he congratulated himself on his self-restraint, Vincent worried that 'no rush' meant 'no desire'.
Despite the energy their kiss had inspired in him, Thomas felt exhaustion settled across his shoulders the moment he closed the door behind him. He rolled his neck, wincing as the bones let out a satisfying crack, and settled on the edge of his bed to remove him clothes.
He had only removed his vest and shoes when there was a gentle knock at the door. With a small frown, he moved back towards the door quickly.
"Vincent, is everythi-" He cut off abruptly when the eyes he was expecting were lower and darker. "Lupe?!"
The girl was barefoot, wrapped in a thin shawl and all but trembling as she looked up at him. "Buenas noches, Tomás."
"Good evening, Lupe," he said, his eyes darting to the hallway behind her as if it might explain why she was at his door. "Is everything alright? ¿Bien?"
Her nod was stiff. She tilted her head towards his room and waited. Thomas was confused, to say the least. This was the first time Lupe had been anything other than friendly and open. Cautiously, he stepped back, letting her move forward into his room. He hesitated by the door, deciding whether to shut it or leave it open, but chose their privacy.
When he turned back, she was standing in the centre of his room, her fingers blanching as she gripped the shawl. Slowly, Thomas circled her, making his way back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Lupe, please, take a seat and tell me what's wrong." He gestured to the armchair behind her. "Por favor."
Whether she did not understand or chose to ignore him, Lupe didn't sit. Instead she slowly tugged her shawl from across her shoulder and folded it, draping it over the chair he'd indicated. She was left in a pale green housecoat that fell to her ankles and was fastened so tightly at the waist that he wondered she could still breathe.
As if to prove him wrong, she took a deep slow breath in through her mouth before she spoke. "Thank you," she said softly, her hands drifting to the tie of her coat where they fussed awkwardly at the stiff material. "For, uh, rescatarme y for protect me."
Thomas clasped his hands in his lap. "You do not need to thank us, Lupe. We are glad to help you."
Somehow, his words seemed further depress her spirits. She didn't speak for a long moment, her lip caught between her teeth. Thomas wondered briefly how many times he could ask he what was wrong before it was rude. Then she took another deep breath.
"I know," she said slowly, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, "men want, uh..." The corner of her mouth twitched as she tried and failed to recall the English word. "Compensación."
And with one tug, she disrobed.
Thomas Thorne was by no means a prude, but his eyes jerked heavenward instantly. All he saw before he focussed on the crown mouldings above was a frame so thin he could count her ribs. At the edge of his vision, he watched her take a trembling step forward.
"T-t..." she swallowed. "Take?"
Thomas' eyes snapped closed: she sounded terrified. Reaching blindly behind him, he fumbled for fabric, tugging what felt like a bedsheet into both hands. Only when he'd raised it stiffly between Lupe and himself like a shield did he lower his gaze and narrow the gap between them. He was gratified that she appeared more confused than scared as he inched closer, barely flinching when he flourished the material. It rested momentarily across her shoulders before he wrapped her up tightly, hiding absolutely all suggestion of skin from view.
And then he stepped back.
If he weren't in the situation, perhaps Thomas would have laughed. Lupe was standing in the middle of his room, blinking slowly at him in confusion, wrapped not dissimilarly to how Jemima had taught Vincent to swaddle Isabella. At her feet, just peeking out from beneath the sheet, lay her robe. It was both the most and least compromising position he'd ever found himself in, and he didn't know what to do.
His thoughts were interrupted by a hiccup.
For the first time, Thomas truly focussed on Lupe's face, and realised he could almost see into her soul.
His breath left him; she was terrified.
Her dark eyes welled with tears, her lower lip trembling violently, as she clutched the sheet with frozen fingers.
"¡Lo siento!" As the apology left her lips, tears left her eyes. "¡Lo siento mucho! Pensé..."
Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by her sobs.
The shock and confusion in Thomas' mind shifted just enough for him to understand what had happened in the last few minutes. Lupe was the furthest thing from a cold seductress. This was a young, traumatised girl, trying everything she knew to keep herself safe.
Thomas' stomach turned as he wondered if this was how Isabela had been conceived.
He moved forward before his own tears could form and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, careful to maintain as much propriety as the situation allowed. Instantly, Lupe sagged against him, her tearstained face pressed into his shirt.
"No compensation, Lupe," he said in her ear, gentle but firm. "You are safe here. Segura."
If anything, her tears fell more quickly, but Thomas just tightened his grip and let her cry.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Thomas spoke without thinking. "Come in." Almost instantly he stiffened, suddenly remembering their situation. He was half undressed. Ignoring the sheet, Lupe was entirely undressed. They were alone... in his chambers... at night. His mouth opened, but he could neither retract the invitation nor separate himself from Lupe before Vincent pressed his way into the room.
And then there were three of them standing frozen.
Vincent'sbrown eyes, buried as they were beneath his furrowed brow, slowly took in thescene before him; Thomas half undressed... Lupe wrapped in a thin sheet withtears staining her cheeks... the pair together, embracing in the middle of theroom
~~~
Hello Lovely Readers!
Day 2 of the #ChristmasCountdown ! I hope your holiday season is going well!
Is anyone else only motivated by deadlines? I have had two weeks to finish this book, and although I wrote about 10'000 words in that time, there are still ~20'000 to go... we all make mistakes. BUT, I am very very excited to bring you the end of Daughter on his Doorstep - thank you so much to the readers who have stuck with me over the past few months - I hope these chapters are what you'd been hoping for!
xx Flo
P.S. genuinely not sure what I wrote in this chapter or that author's note... good luck!