Chapter 17
How many occasions have I missed to see my wife looking like this?
When Henry had removed Thalia’s cloak to reveal her evening gown, he was certain he had heard a collective gasp from the other guests milling about the entrance hall, and had barely stifled a soft, surprised one of his own.
Of course, he knew his wife was beautiful.
She was, and likely always would be, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but tonight she had risen above the notion of everyday beauty, soaring to ethereal heights.
And she is mine, quiet pride whispered in Henry’s mind. Hastily, he focused on the crowd in the ballroom in a vain attempt to squash the thought. But with his hand still resting on the small of his wife’s back, standing so close to her side, it was not such an easy task.
“Everyone is staring,” Thalia said quietly, her voice tight with nerves.
Henry did not know if she was talking to him or not, or Frances perhaps, but he could not stop the sudden compulsion to ease her discomfort.
Leaning in, his lips close to her ear, he whispered, “They are staring because that gown becomes you very well, and because you are a duchess.” He paused. “Follow my lead and keep your head high.”
She turned her head suddenly, as though his voice had surprised her.
For a moment, they were so very close indeed, close enough that a slight movement of his head would have brought his lips to hers.
He had not expected her to turn like that, his gaze flitting subconsciously to her mouth…
while her eyes widened slightly, her chest quickening its steady rise and fall.
Well done, you fool; you have made her even more nervous.
He cleared his throat and returned to his full height, his heart beating a little harder than he was accustomed to. “Ah, there he is,” he said, almost relieved to see his cousin James amidst the crowd. “This way, Duchess.”
With his hand still resting on the small of Thalia’s back, though he told himself it was solely to guide her in the right direction, he led her onward… and tried exceedingly hard not to think about how close he had come to kissing her. Accidentally, of course.
“Cousin! What a rare treat this is,” James Brooks crowed, sticking out his hand in greeting. “I confess, I thought my sister was jesting when she said you would be in attendance, but here you are.”
Henry took the man’s hand, shaking it. “It has been a long time, Cousin.” Awkwardness stiffened his posture, his mind blank. “Are you… well? You are still at Weverton, are you not?”
“I am very well,” James replied. “And yes, Weverton. I swear, that manor shall be the end of me. I would ask you to visit, but I have been asking you that for years and you have yet to accept.”
“Apologies,” was all Henry could think to say.
It was not that he did not like his cousins.
He had no quarrel with them or distaste toward them.
Indeed, he and James had been as close as brothers when they were at school together, but then duty had called for them both, and life had somewhat cast them in their own directions.
Now, it was unusual if they saw one another more than once a year.
James smiled. “Nonsense. I know you are a terribly busy man, but you really must visit one day.” He turned his attention toward Thalia.
“The invitation extends to you, of course, Your Grace. My sister is always visiting you, yet you never come to us. I almost feel as if I have offended you in some way.”
“Oh…” Thalia tensed at Henry’s side; his palm feeling the discomfort straightening her spine.
But Frances swooped in to the rescue, as if she were aware of Thalia’s affliction.
“You know very well why that is, James. Do not tease her so.” She rolled her eyes.
“The moment you see fit to get the ceiling fixed in the drawing room and get rid of Mr. Wilcox, I shall invite my dear Thalia to call upon me.”
Henry eyed Frances discreetly, unable to decide if she might know something after all, or if she was merely seizing the opportunity to chide her brother. He did not think Thalia had revealed the truth, but he would listen closely for the rest of the evening, to be certain one way or the other.
James chuckled and held his hand out to Thalia. “Alas, I am aware that Weverton is not so grand as Holdridge. Nevertheless, it is good to see you again, Duchess.”
She hesitantly allowed him to take her hand, Henry bristling as James brought that gloved hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
Get a hold of yourself, man! Henry scolded himself, for this was his cousin, not some admiring stranger who might steal his wife away.
“And you, Lord Weverton,” Thalia replied.
A flicker of surprise turned Henry’s gaze down to his wife. How had she known what to call him? Had she remembered that James was a Marquess? He wanted to take her to one side to ask, but that would only invite suspicion from Frances and James.
“Any news of Walter, these days?” James asked, as he let Thalia’s hand go and Henry felt himself breathe more easily.
“Still enjoying himself in far off lands, as far as I am aware,” Henry replied. “He does not write so often. Even when he does, the information is always weeks in the past.”
James nodded. “He was always a… different sort of fellow.”
“That is certainly one way to describe him,” Henry conceded with a smile.
Leaning in, James lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Did you know, Duchess, that Henry and his brother used to loathe one another when they were younger? They fought as if they had no kinship at all. Indeed, when we were all at Eton together, you would have thought they were nemeses, rather than brothers.”
“I… knew of an estrangement,” Thalia said haltingly.
“And is it not rather normal for brothers to be that way in their youth? Rivalry must be rife between an heir and a second son. I would not know, seeing as my brother only had sisters to contend with, but I can well imagine it is difficult to navigate. Why, all siblings have their incendiary spats from time to time.”
An odd tightness in her voice caught Henry’s attention, reminding him of her nightmare in the library: the fragment of memory that her mind had seen fit to recollect.
But has she remembered more? He did not recall telling her about Walter at all, beyond having a brother. Yet, she spoke as if she truly knew of the brothers’ uneasy past.
Frances giggled and nudged James in the arm. “Oh, my brother is keenly aware of vicious arguments between siblings. I daresay I have done my share of screeching at him like a wounded cat.”
“If ladies could inherit, I have no doubt that she would have smothered me in my sleep when we were younger,” James replied, chuckling good-naturedly.
“But you are quite right, Duchess: these things resolve with age and maturity. Mostly. Frances still relishes a quarrel here and there. Sometimes, I am convinced she picks a fight purely because she is bored.”
A huff came from Frances’ lips. “You try entertaining yourself in a manor that is falling down, where you cannot invite anyone out of utter embarrassment.”
“You could always get married again,” James offered slyly. “Then, you would not be so bored. You would have your own household to run once more, and I might finally have some peace.”
Frances arched a stern eyebrow and weaved her arm through Thalia’s. “Well, that is assuredly my cue to be elsewhere. Come, Thalia, let us get some refreshments before my brother begins to actually think of finding me a husband.”
There was nothing Henry could do as his cousin ushered Thalia away, though he felt the absence keenly, his hand falling to his side now that she was no longer there next to him.
Thalia’s heart hurt for Frances, and the remark James had made about remarriage, as if that part of her remembered her friend’s painful past.
“What a mean thing to say, Franny,” she murmured, as Frances hurried her toward the refreshments room. “As if you would be inclined to remarry after what befell you.”
A surprisingly cheery smile graced Frances’ lips. “Oh, that is just the nature of our teasing. He does not mean it. He knows that he shall likely be stuck with me for the rest of my days.” She paused. “Do you and your brother not tease one another like that?”
“Goodness, no,” Thalia replied with a confidence that soothed her, tapping into the comfort of the memories she still possessed. “He is much too serious for that.”
Frances nodded. “James is rarely serious. I like to think of it as his rebellion against our father, who was as strict as a headmaster.” She shuddered dramatically. “I barely interacted with him, which was rather a blessing, but my poor brother…”
“I fear that is all too common,” Thalia agreed, understanding. “My brother was raised with similar strictness. I suppose we were all expected to be obedient without question.”
Otherwise, I would not be married. Not like this, at least.
The cheerful blonde hugged Thalia’s arm tighter to her side. “We are becoming much too gloomy, dear Thalia. Let us speak of merrier things. Indeed, let us speak of this magnificent change in your husband!” She sighed. “You make such a charming pair, you really do. Did you see everyone staring?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Thalia muttered, still feeling the burn of so many eyes watching her at once.
Frances batted the remark away. “It is good, Thalia. Trust me. It is better that they are spreading the pleasant kind of gossip than the other kind. The scandal sheets will be awash with glowing compliments about the two of you tomorrow, you mark my words.”
“Instead of?” Thalia blurted out before she could stop herself, her curiosity getting the better of her.
But Frances did not seem to notice the slip, chattering on as she scoured the refreshments table for something that tempted her.
“Oh, you know, that your marriage is a farce, that my cousin has a host of paramours, that you are oblivious to it all, that you are a poor, beautiful thing waiting naively at home for an absent husband.” She picked up a cream puff and popped it into her mouth, adding, “All nonsense, of course.”
“It is?” Thalia asked tentatively, choosing what appeared to be a glass of flavored ice, a pleasing shade of red.
With her hand to her mouth as she chewed, Frances nodded. “I know about husbands with paramours and… alternative interests. Henry is not that sort of gentleman. His paramour is his work.” She frowned. “Why am I telling you all of this? This is not news to you.”
She gave a funny little laugh and selected some manner of fruit tart.
“No, but it is nice to have the reassurance from time to time,” Thalia said quickly, heat rushing into her cheeks.
Frances nodded in agreement. “And you are hardly pining away at Holdridge. You are always out in society with me. These gossips, they just say whatever the please to make themselves feel better about their own dreary situations; I am certain of it.” She turned suddenly, gesturing with the pastry.
“Now, once you have children, that will be the ultimate end to their mean whisperings.”
“Children?” Thalia’s throat tightened. “Uh… yes, that would be one way to… um… silence things.”
She waited, hoping that Frances would fill the quiet with everything Thalia wanted to know about that particular issue. Rather, the lack of it. Four years and no children, even in a marriage of convenience, really was confounding.
“Is that why things have improved, and he is finally attending events with you?” Frances asked. “Has he finally agreed to have children with you? I knew it would strengthen your relationship. See, I told you that it would!”
Helpless, Thalia scooped up a mouthful of the flavored ice to buy herself time to think of an answer. It tasted of tart raspberry, sweet and sour and delicious, and so cold it made her gasp.
“No agreement as such,” she replied, swallowing the ice as it melted. “But, you know, am I really so bothered about having children with him.”
She framed it as a statement, though it was really a question.
Frances stared at her, frowning. “It is what you have longed for, for months. Do not tell me that all the afternoons we have spent discussing it have been for nothing, that you have changed your mind? Oh! Is it him? Has he made you change your mind?”
Floundering, Thalia scooped up another large spoonful of the ice and shoved it into her mouth. This was becoming interminable.
I should just tell her what happened to me. Then, she can tell me everything I have forgotten. She got the feeling that her friend would be more than happy to oblige, too, once she got over the initial shock.
But before Thalia could decide, torn between wanting to know everything and the realization that she was in a rather public place that was not at all suited to such revelations, Frances groaned, “What do you want? We are in the midst of gorging ourselves.”
Thalia turned to find James standing there, offering a polite bow. “Henry has wandered off, so I thought I would come and annoy my little sister some more.” He smiled at Thalia. “No, in truth, I hoped I might borrow you for the duration of a dance, if you are not averse?”
Perhaps, he would be better suited to answering my questions. After all, it seemed that she did not know him well, but he knew Henry. Any questions she had would not sound so strange, so unusual, coming from her.
“I would not be averse,” she said, offering her hand and praying that she could at least remember how to dance.