Chapter Eight
Mary breathed a sigh of relief that luncheon al fresco had finally concluded.
Though the weather was lovely—a tad overcast with a cooling breeze that made the white linen tablecloths gently dance—the meal itself was rather tense.
Gabriel sat beside her. After all, they had to maintain a public image as he’d said, but since they’d not shared a bed the night before, sleep managed to elude her.
However, her husband had sneaked into the room well after midnight.
She pretended to be dead to the world, curious to see what he would do, and when he’d pulled the bedclothes over her then pressed his lips to her temple since she’d laid on her side, her heart had squeezed.
If there weren’t some sort of feelings still between them, he wouldn’t have done that, would he?
In truth, if he didn’t wish to remain married, he would have simply left her at the manor house and returned to London.
But she hadn’t been ready to initiate yet another conversation with him, so she’d let him think she was asleep, and eventually he’d left the room.
Now, as she glanced at him beside her, he didn’t look as if he’d fared much better.
Faint dark smudges were present beneath his eyes, which seemed haunted, and even at midday, a shadow of stubble clung to his cheeks and jaw.
It had been a long time since he’d not cared about shaving.
The pristine folds of his cravat were slightly mussed and the knot loosened; no doubt his valet hadn’t sent him out into the world like that this morning.
Poor thing.
Despite the fact they were at odds with each other, she had missed his presence beside her last night; missed him in her company.
She lightly touched his arm. “Are you finished with your meal?” Everyone else who’d been seated at the large, round table had already left.
Footmen and maids were busily gathering dishes used for the luncheon.
“I am.”
“Oh? Because you’ve left your trifle nearly untouched, and I know it’s one of your favorites.” Every cook they encountered, once they discovered Bright’s likes and dislikes, made a point to ensure he had his favorites at each meal.
He glanced at his still-full dish containing his portion of the trifle then back at her. “Clearly, I’m not as hungry as usual, but it is pretty to look at.” The grin on his face died a quick death, and all too soon, he was frowning at the dessert that used to bring him so much joy.
“Understandable.” She nodded though her throat constricted when she tried to swallow.
“You are away from home. Food, though familiar, tastes differently, and you are worried, besides. I am too.” In fact, she had only picked at the food on her own plates, had eaten enough to stave off hunger, but it hadn’t interested her.
“Perhaps that is what it is.”
“Would you want to accompany me on a walk?” she asked as she stood up from her chair, for it was obvious the staff wished to clear away their dishes.
“I wish I could, but I’ve promised Francis and some of the others that I’d join them for billiards and cards. I’ve already put them off once.” He blew out a breath. “And since I don’t see Francis as often as I probably should, I’d best spend the time with him this afternoon.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” A trace of cold disappointment went through her chest, for she had hoped he might want to be with her. Of course, she’d dressed him down quite a bit last night in that maze…
“Perhaps. However, I’ll escort you inside if you’d like.”
“Thank you. I think I’ll indulge in a nap for a while before attempting to join one of the groups of ladies.
They’re all very chatty.” And these days, she valued the quiet over everything else.
It could be due to not having many friends in this phase of life, or it could be that her days were quite busy and noisy, but it didn’t matter.
“I don’t blame you. While I’m thrilled that my brother and sister-in-law are popular and have so many friends and acquaintances, it does prove a little much after a string of hours.”
“It almost makes me envy that.” When Bright put a hand to the small of her back, trembles of need moved through her lower belly.
He’d been subdued at luncheon even though he kept up a stream of conversation with the people at the table.
There had been no spark about him, and there was no wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Almost, but then I remind myself that they are walking their path and I’m walking mine.
” Except, Vivian was around her own age, and it certainly seemed she had much more energy and personality than she did.
Am I doing something wrong?
As they wound their way through the corridors toward the grand staircase, Bright snorted. “Francis has always been more suited for society than I am. It’s only natural that his wife is as well.”
“Do you regret that I am not like that? After all, you are the son of a viscount, and doing the pretty is no doubt second nature to you.”
“I never had much use or respect for the beau monde.” He spared her a glance as they climbed to the next level.
“They are too vapid and self-absorbed, and their conversations usually center around the same. For me, it is quite dull, but I continue to move in those circles because cultivating connections might prove useful at times. One never knows when one could need a powerful ally.”
“That is good to bear in mind.” It was something she’d not thought of before, and that reminded her of how intelligent Bright was, and how that made him a fantastic investigator. “At least you find enjoyment at your club.”
“There is that.” At the door to the room they shared, he pressed the latch, opened the panel, then let her precede him into the room.
Of course, the first thing they both noticed at the same time was a white porcelain vase full of merry yellow daffodils and other colorful spring flowers. “What the devil?”
Oh, dear heavens. More flowers.
“Don’t fly into the boughs, Bright.” She crossed the room to the bureau where the vase rested.
A folded slip of paper was nestled into the blooms. Once she removed it, she read the one sentence written upon it.
“’Beautiful flowers for a beautiful flower, and one who stands out among the rest in a field. ’”
Ire flashed through her husband’s expression. “Who is it, Mary?”
“What?” With a shaking hand, she laid the paper next to the vase, but she knew what he referred to. How could she not?
“Who is the man you’re flirting with? The man who has been sending you these damned flowers every day? The man you’d rather be with instead of me?” With each inquiry, his voice rose.
When she met his gaze, behind the anger was fathomless hurt and despair. He truly assumed she intended to throw him over. In that moment, she lost her heart to him all over again, for the fears he’d spoken of yesterday were very real. “Lower your voice.”
“Why should I? Perhaps everyone should know what is truly going on.”
Annoyance filled her chest. “If you don’t know the sort of woman I am by now, if you can’t understand that I would never betray you like your first wife did, if you don’t comprehend the fact that I’m in this union through thick and thin, then perhaps you should leave.”
Confusion warred with shock in his eyes. “Leave… permanently?”
“What?” She shook her head while her heart ached, for nothing had changed with him, even after the candid talk in the hedge maze. “No. I meant leave this room. Presently, all we do together is fight and pick at each other. We need some space to calm down before we attempt conversation again.”
“Fine.” After opening his mouth as if he would say something, he snapped it closed and then stormed across the room to the door. “Will I see you at dinner?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
With a growl, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Good heavens, when his emotions were engaged and jealousy rose up to meet them, Bright was truly insufferable. Had he always been like that and she’d been blinded with love for him that she’d missed it? Hot tears rose quickly to her eyes. They spilled down her cheeks, and she didn’t stop them.
Memories from her own first marriage came back to haunt her.
The man she’d been married to had been horrid to her, abused her both physically and emotionally.
Though Bright had never been violent toward her, would that change if he continued to grow more and more angry?
When her knees wobbled and refused to support her, Mary sank onto the side of the bed.
No, she knew her husband. He was an honorable, good man who would rather throw himself in front of a runaway carriage before he’d hurt her in any way. This was nothing more than a rough patch that would eventually blow itself out.
I hope.
She’d perhaps spent a quarter of an hour feeling sorry for herself before she retrieved a handkerchief from one of the bureau drawers.
It belonged to Gabriel, and she caught a whiff of his shaving soap when she patted her face dry.
It made her miss him all over again, and it strengthened her resolve to mend whatever was broken between them.
A knock on the door wrenched her from her tortured thoughts.
Hoping she didn’t appear as if she’d been drowning her sorrows in tears, Mary stood then crossed the room to open the door. A footman stood in the corridor. “Is something wrong?” Her thoughts went immediately to Bright.
A puzzled expression crossed his face. The young man shook his head. “No, Mrs. Bright. I have the weekly post for you.” He offered three envelopes. “Do you have need of anything else?”
“I’m quite well for the moment. Thank you.”
Once more she closed the door. One of the envelopes was addressed to her. Concern that something had happened to the children accelerated her heartbeat. The other two letters were for Gabriel, which she set on the small, round, rose-inlaid table near the winged-back chair for his perusal later.