Chapter 28
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Thalia asked, as the carriage trundled along the country roads, now steeped in shadow and moonlight.
Henry, seated on the opposite squabs, blinked as if he had been dozing off. “I did, as it happens.” He rubbed his eyes. “I cannot believe that my cousins did not greet us, though. It is poor form to host a party and not speak to all of your guests.”
“And how would you know that?” Thalia teased. “You have never hosted a party.”
“Nevertheless, I know the etiquette,” he replied, as he rested his head back against the carriage wall. “I was often informed of your famed parties. I imagine I would have been in the way if I had been there to host with you.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. You would have been welcome.”
“No, Thalia, I would not,” he said sleepily. “You had a full life without me.”
She heard the silent part of what he meant in her head, And you will have a full life again, without me. He had not seen her diary. He did not know of all the lonely moments, the lost moments, the empty moments where she had felt she was barely living at all.
“I liked Walter,” she said, her throat thick with emotion.
Henry’s eyes had closed, his head turned to the side. “Hmm?”
“I wish Walter had come back with us,” she continued, half-tempted to smack him in the leg so he would wake up properly.
“Best not,” Henry murmured. “Might hurt you again.”
Thalia sighed and turned her gaze out of the window, even if there was nothing but vague shapes to be seen. “No, Henry, I do not think he would. I do not think it was him at all.”
In truth, she was beginning to wonder if they would ever find out who was responsible. And she cursed herself for not being able to remember the one evening that mattered, that could resolve all of this.
For the sooner the mystery was solved, the sooner she would know if she still had a husband, or if she was destined once more to live a life of solitude, married to a stranger.
“Your Grace, there’s a carriage coming up to the house,” Mrs. Fisher said with a start, jumping up from the embroidery she had been helping Thalia with.
“It is likely Henry’s friends,” Thalia said. “They said they would visit again soon.”
She had not slept much the night before, tossing and turning with maddening dreams of her husband. He had been so… odd yesterday, reminding her of the man who had carried her into the lake and held her so tightly. A playful man, the kind she might like to spend a lifetime with.
And that was a problem. She had sworn she would not raise her hopes, but it was so difficult not to feel the possibility of a wish fulfilled when he was paying such attention to her. Teasing her. Touching her. Making her feel all giddy and confused.
“Your Grace, I think it is your family,” Mrs. Fisher said from her new post by the drawing room windows.
Thalia all but threw down her embroidery. “It is?”
She hurried to the window, saw the familiar crest on the side of the carriage, and hurtled from the room. She was running so fast, squealing happily to herself, that she did not see Henry stepping down from the staircase until it was too late.
His arm shot out to catch her before they could collide, holding her steady for a moment.
“Where are you going in such a rush?” he asked.
She pulled back, wary of whether or not yesterday’s behavior had been a one-time occasion. “My family are here.”
“Did you invite them?” His tone was slightly colder than the day before, dark crescents beneath his eyes suggesting that he had not slept much either.
She shook her head. “It is an unexpected visit.”
“Of the good kind or the bad?”
“How am I to know that?” she replied, agitated.
Henry nodded in agreement. “A fair point. Come, let us greet them together.”
His mood still indecipherable, she did not refuse his arm when he offered it, allowing him to lead her to the front door. The carriage was just pulling to a standstill outside.
All of her anxiety was forgotten as Dorothy flew out of the carriage and raced up the porch steps to greet her, the two sisters meeting in a ferocious hug. Despite the squeezing, rib-crushing embrace, Thalia felt as if she could finally take a full breath again.
“My sweet Dorothy,” she sighed. “There you are.”
Dorothy chuckled. “I could not be away from you any longer. Even if you are very cross with us, I could not. I made Kenneth bring me.”
“I am not cross with you,” Thalia said, pulling back. “I doubt I could ever be cross with you, and you did nothing wrong.”
Kenneth appeared, clearing his throat. “No, that responsibility is mine.” He cast his gaze down, shamefaced. “I wanted to write and apologize, but… I did not know what to say. Are you well?”
“I am,” Thalia replied, reaching out to pat her brother gently on the arm. “Come on inside. Let us have some tea and, hopefully, a less incendiary discussion.”
Kenneth mustered a nervy smile. “I promise, I will not raise my voice at all.”
As Kenneth led Dorothy into the entrance hall and through to the drawing room, Thalia moved to follow, when the brush of Henry’s hand upon her waist made her jump in fright.
She gasped, turning her head sharply.
Henry tilted his head toward the drawing room. “Shall we?”
All innocence, as if he had just been meaning to guide her there.
“Well… yes, of course,” she replied, residual shock making her sound more irritated than she intended.
He did not touch her again as they made their way into the drawing room, where Mrs. Fisher quickly hurried off to fetch the things for tea.
“Father will be joining us momentarily,” Kenneth said, a tightness in his voice. “I tried to dissuade him, but he was most insistent on speaking with the duke.”
Still flustered, Thalia sat down opposite her brother. “But he was not in the carriage?”
“No. He has… purchased a new thoroughbred. He was resolute in his decision to ride it here,” Kenneth explained.
Dorothy sniffed. “We ought to give him an hour or two before we send out a search party.”
“Dorothy,” Kenneth chided mildly.
“What?” the young woman protested. “He is determined to make fools of us all, so why should I not show a little annoyance now and then? I have not forgotten that he tried to sell my pianoforte. I have not forgotten that he forced dear Thalia into a marriage she did not want!”
“Dorothy!” Kenneth scolded, his tone harsher this time.
At once, Dorothy blushed and put a hand to her mouth, staring up at Henry. “Goodness, my apologies. I meant no offense! Father has been insufferable all morning, and I have let myself get carried away.” She cringed. “Please, I am so sorry.”
Thalia could not look at Henry to see his expression, still feeling the memory of his touch on her waist. She would turn as purple as blackberry juice if she dared to set her gaze on him now.
“You are quite forgiven,” Henry said softly. “I know a thing or two about insufferable fathers. With that in mind, I believe I shall take my leave and wait for your father outside. I would learn the temperament of this new horse before I put my stable boys in any danger.”
Thalia’s heart quickened at the masterful, thoughtful gesture.
She had forgotten that her husband was quite the horseman. Many a time in the years of their marriage, when news had spread through the house that he was returning briefly, she had watched him arrive from her window.
She had particularly liked it in the colder months or during rain, when he wore his greatcoat, the fabric sailing out behind him as he charged down the driveway. Never knowing that he was being observed by lonely, appreciative eyes.
“He is a good man, Thalia,” Kenneth said, once Henry had gone. “Wise, too. That stallion is as wild as any I have seen, which is likely why Father was able to buy it at such a reasonable price.”
Thalia chewed her lip in consternation. “Then, should we search for him?”
“Leave him wherever he has fallen, I say,” Dorothy remarked.
“Has something happened?” Thalia asked. “Has he fallen not into a ditch but into immense debt again? Is that why he wishes to speak to Henry, to ask for more money? He knows that has ended.”
Kenneth’s eyes widened, his body leaning forward as he stared intently at his sister. “You remember…”
Oh, fiddlesticks! Thalia had forgotten that she was not supposed to be telling anyone.
“Yes, I remember,” she admitted. “I got my memories back.”
Kenneth paled, his mouth slack. “Then, you remember all of the awful things I said? You remember our fight? You remember… my most abhorrent moment?” His breath caught in his throat. “Thalia, forgive me. I will get on my knees and beg it.”
“There is no need,” she tried to say, but he continued.
“Since that terrible argument, I dedicated all of my efforts to fixing my debts myself. I could not bear the guilt of what I had said and done and threatened. I paid them all, dearest sister. I did it because you were right; I could only help myself. I had a habit I could not break, and until I broke it, I would forever be begging for money. But I broke it, Thalia. I swear to you.”
Dorothy dipped her chin to her chest, her hands folded in her lap. “He is telling the truth, Thalia. He has worked tirelessly.”
“I know,” Thalia said, as she walked over to her brother and sat beside him. “I asked an… acquaintance for news of you. I was proud of you, but I wanted to wait until you felt you could come to me.”
There was a glisten in Kenneth’s eyes as he looked at Thalia. “I am so very sorry for the things I said.”
“You were suffering,” she replied, taking his hands. “I forgive you. Of course, I forgive you.”
Kenneth gripped her hands in return. “I was just too embarrassed to come to you, after all I had borrowed, all I had done. I am working toward gathering enough to pay you back.”
“There is no need for that,” Thalia insisted. “It is my gift to you. A gift that was given to me, passed to you, so that, one day, perhaps you will pass it to someone else who needs it.”
Kenneth’s throat bobbed, a slight nod confirming that he understood what she meant. “The duke is a very good man.” He paused. “There is comfort in knowing he is here to keep you safe, to protect you in… so many ways.”
“There is comfort in knowing my brother will no longer be too ashamed to visit, as well,” Thalia said, her voice hitching.
Indeed, she thought she might burst into tears, thinking of a future without Henry there beside her, without him being in the manor with her, without his safety and his comforting presence.
So, she leaned in and pulled her brother into a hug, hiding her face in his shoulder so he would not see her secret pain. And when he hugged her back, she allowed a few silent tears to fall. Tears that became a smile as Dorothy nudged herself into the embrace, her arms around both of them.
Even if I lose my husband again, I still have this.
And, oh, how she wished that could be enough.