Chapter 26
“Ahem. Your Grace? Ahem.”
Christian furrowed his brow. Why was Hooves in his room, leaning over him? Was he standing on the bed? Why was he so high up?
Christian blinked groggily. Then he realized with a jolt that Hooves had not clambered on his mattress to loom over him, but that he had fallen asleep face-down on the rug.
The fire had died down, leaving him goose-bumped and shivery. This was likely not helped by the fact that he was still naked after his bath. Hooves must have thrown a towel over his lower half.
“Gah,” he croaked.
He didn’t remember falling asleep. He didn’t remember much of anything after the sharp pain of the ice-cold bath, numbed by his fifth glass of whiskey.
Hooves cleared his throat. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
“What time is it?”
“Half past seven, Your Grace.”
Christian rolled onto his side, squinting up at the butler. “And you thought this was an appropriate time to wake me, did you?”
“Generally, I would not,” Hooves conceded. “But this time, I thought I would make an exception.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Her Grace is preparing to leave.”
Christian flinched. “What? Where is she going? I don’t understand.”
The butler straightened up, biting his lower lip. For a moment, Christian saw worry flash across his face.
“I understand she is going home, Your Grace.”
Christian blinked. He felt a rush of nausea, which was hardly surprising after the amount of alcohol he’d consumed.
“Home? But this is her home.”
“Nevertheless, Your Grace, she has packed up her things and is waiting for the carriage as we speak.”
He let out a long, shaky breath. “I see. Well, thank you for telling me. I shall go down and speak to her now.”
He stiffly rose to his feet, wincing at the soreness in his joints. He’d staggered about halfway to the door before Hooves gave a gentle cough.
“Perhaps some breeches and a shirt before you go down?”
Christian paused, glancing over his shoulder at where the towel lay crumpled on the rug. “Ah,” he mumbled. “Yes, perhaps that would be a good idea. But quickly. I don’t want to miss her.”
The butler immediately produced a pair of breeches and a clean shirt. “I took the liberty of preparing clothes before I woke you, Your Grace.”
Christian brightened. “Have I ever told you that you’re worth your weight in gold, Hooves?”
The butler modestly inclined his head. “I believe you have, Your Grace, yes.”
About five minutes later, Christian padded barefoot down the wide, velvet-carpeted stairs. He spotted several bandboxes and bags littered around, along with the sensible, middle-aged maid who had come with Thalia. Mabel was her name, if he recalled correctly.
Thalia stood in front of the door, staring at it as if waiting for it to open. She must have heard him descend the stairs, but she did not turn around.
“Mabel,” he said when he reached the bottom step, “would you give us a moment, please?”
Mabel hesitated, glancing at her mistress. “I was meant to load up the bags and such when the carriage gets here, Your Grace.”
“It’s all right, Mabel,” Thalia assured her, turning to face them.
She looked paler than he remembered. Were those dark circles under her eyes? Had she been crying?
The foyer was not very well-lit early in the morning, and Christian couldn’t get a good look at her face, not with the wide-brimmed bonnet she wore.
Mabel glanced between them, then silently rose to her feet and padded away.
“You cannot be serious,” Christian said, once the maid was (hopefully) out of earshot. “You are leaving? The day after our wedding? What will people say?”
“I imagine they’ll lose interest very quickly. And if they don’t… well, it hardly matters. You and I are already accustomed to it.”
He clenched his jaw, trying and failing to catch her eye. “So this is it, then? You’re leaving? For good?”
She lowered her head a little, the bonnet shielding her face.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I… I miss my home.
I miss my cat. Augusta told me I could come back.
I wrote to her this morning. I am not sure that my brother approves, but for once, she insisted.
I miss my cat, you see,” she repeated, as if he might not have understood the first time.
“Your cat?” Christian echoed. He felt oddly dizzy.
She nodded. “You met my cat. Orange is his name. I left him at home, but now, I… I find that I want to see him. Very much. So, I’m going home. I’ll return soon,” she added, somewhat lamely.
Christian pressed his lips together. “Do you want to drive me wild? Is this your aim here?”
“I have no aim.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
She glanced up at him, and for a moment, her eyes blazed with such an intense fury that he had to take a step back.
“I want to not feel rejected by you,” she hissed. “I want to live my life. I want tranquility, peace of mind. I want to respect your decisions, Christian. Truly, I do. But at this moment, they hurt too much. Now, are you going to let me go?”
He shrugged. “I was never going to hold you back.”
She eyed him for a long moment, her jaw tight. “I see.”
Outside, wheels crunched on gravel, signaling the arrival of the carriage. Mabel stepped into view, glancing warily between them.
Thalia turned her back on Christian. “Come, Mabel,” she said softly. “Let’s go.”
Three Days Later
A timid tap sounded at the bedroom door, and Christian swore aloud.
“If you’ve come to offer me more tea, Hooves, I swear I shall fling you out of the window.”
“It is not Hooves,” answered a familiar voice. “It is your mother. And if you don’t open the door, I’ll tear it off its hinges and carry it away, then you won’t have a bedroom door at all. How would you feel about that?”
Christian, who had been lounging in a low chair by the fire, sat up uncertainly, eyeing the closed door. “Mother? What is it?”
“I shall tell you when you open the door.”
He had not seen much of his mother lately. She had mostly been preoccupied with Laura since her return. Then there had been the wedding to plan, which she’d enjoyed immensely, proclaiming Thalia to be a very nice young woman and a suitable choice for a wife.
He had no idea what his mother thought about Thalia’s sudden departure. He had not asked her.
“It’s not locked,” he called, sinking back into his seat. Glancing down at his half-empty glass of whiskey, he pursed his lips and set it aside.
The door creaked open, and Celestia stepped inside.
Her gaze trailed briefly across the untidy room, from the dirty clothes piled on the floor to the stacked dishes and cups he had left on a tea tray.
There was a sticky whiskey mark on the side of his chair, and he resisted the urge to scrub it with his fingers.
“You have not been yourself lately,” she observed, inching past the mess. “And you have not been letting Hooves and the maids do their work in here. It smells rather unpleasant, Christian, I must say.”
“Well, whose concern is that but mine?” he snapped, shifting. “Leave me be, Mother.”
She did not listen. Instead, she stepped further into the room, pushing a wine-stained linen shirt off the chair opposite and perching daintily on the edge.
“I like her very much,” she said. “Thalia, I mean. Many women dread the day a daughter-in-law will appear and unseat them, but I have always been rather excited. I have only one son and one daughter, but I have always thought I would have liked more children. Girls, especially. Of course, it wasn’t to be.
But then Thalia came into our lives, and I remember thinking what a fine girl.
So clever, so thoughtful, so kind. Not the sort of person one meets every day. She’s perfect.”
He swallowed thickly. “She was perfect.”
“There is no sign of her coming home, then, is there?”
Christian shook his head. “She is angry with me. I am not… not the man she hoped I would be.”
His mother eyed him carefully. “Did you deceive her?”
“No, I never did. But hope is an insidious thing, is it not? I daresay she hoped I would be different. I hoped so, too.” He was silent for a moment, drumming his fingers on the armrest. “I am disappointing everybody, it seems.”
Celestia leaned slowly back in her seat, never taking her eyes off him.
“I hardly need to say that your behavior has been almost unbearable these last few days,” she stated.
“You snap at your family and at the servants. You spend hours holed up in your room, only coming out to attend to business matters. You have not been yourself since Thalia left.”
Christian swallowed thickly, glancing away. “Enough, Mother. Leave me be.”
“No, it is not enough. I will not leave you be, not when it is so very clear to me that you miss—” She broke off and shook her head.
“Over the past weeks, while you searched for your sister, I have seen the old Christian again. The boy I remembered. The child I loved. I was so pleased. And now, I see that it wasn’t simply searching for your sister that brought out your true self. No, it was Thalia.”
He closed his eyes. “Mother…”
“Here is what we will do,” she plowed on, determined. “We’ll throw a ball.”
“I am not in the mood for a ball.”
“You never are. It’s expected of you to throw one, being newlyweds. Your sister and I will manage it all. The ton does not know that Thalia is not here, so she’ll be forced to return for the party. She will do it, I know that much.”
Movement at the door caught his eye, and he glanced up to find Laura hovering there, eyeing him nervously.
“And you agree with this?” he asked. “You think that I am insufferable too?”
Laura did not rise to the bait. She stared back at him, fearless.
“I think that you are hurting, Brother,” she responded calmly. “I think you are sad. I think that Thalia’s return will help you.”
“You’re both ridiculous. It doesn’t matter where she stays or goes.”
“She will stay,” Celestia said shortly. “For a while, at least.”
He tipped back his head, closing his eyes. “I don’t suppose that either of you know what day comes at the end of the week.”
“Yes, I do,” Celestia murmured. “It is the anniversary of Sophie’s death and that of your baby boy.”
“Although it is likely that the boy did not die,” Laura chipped in, receiving a glare from her mother.
Christian let out a shaky sigh. “There you have it. I would like a little solitude now, please.”
Celestia didn’t move. “No,” she enunciated carefully.
He blinked up at her, surprised. Had he ever heard that word from his mother? No, he did not think so.
“Mother,” he began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“Do you think that Sophie and your son would be pleased to see you rolling around, half-drunk, entirely lost in despair? No, they would not. Now, I remember Sophie from when she worked at this house. She was a clever girl. Bright, sharp, practical. She accepted your father’s offer because she was clever enough to understand that it was the best solution for all.
Besides, she knew that it was the best solution for you.
She knew that she and her son would be cared for, and she knew that you could go on to live a happy life.
She was a kind girl, and I wish she could have lived a happier life.
But I can say with certainty that she would not wish this upon you. ”
“I lost my son. She died because she got involved with me,” Christian whispered, frowning. “I hardly believe she’d wish me well. It doesn’t matter whether they died in a carriage accident or years later in Edinburgh. It was all my fault. I didn’t even meet my son. That was my fault.”
“No, it was not. You cannot carry the blame for everything that happens in this life, Christian. You know you can’t.”
“Mother…”
“No.” Celestia rose to her feet, fixing him with a long, stern look. “It’s decided. We’re hosting a ball. You’ll be there, and so will Thalia. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Best behavior? I’m not a child anymore.”
Celestia broke into a dimpled smile. “Perhaps not, but I’ll always be your mother.”
She darted forward before he could respond and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Laura hurried into the room too and bent down to wrap her arms tightly around him. She avoided his gaze when he glanced up at her.
“I’ve missed you, Christian,” she said tightly. “And I’m not only talking about the past few days.”
A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, managing a tight nod.
“Now, I shall let you wallow in this disgrace of a room today,” Celestia continued, quickly dashing a tear from her cheek, “but tomorrow, the maids are coming in. You’ll have a bath.
You’ll put on fresh clothes. And before you say that Hooves won’t disobey your orders, I might as well remind you that he worked for me first. And, for what it is worth, he has your best interests at heart, too. ”
Christian sighed. “Is this a mutiny?”
“I suppose it is,” Celestia mused, with a wry smile. “Now, the ball will take place tomorrow night. The sooner the better. I expect you to be in your best attire. Oh, and for heaven’s sake, shave. No woman wants to be kissed with such a shaggy beard. I can tell you that for nothing.”
“Is there any point in resisting?” he groaned.
She winked at him. “No point at all.”