Chapter 18
Although Thalia could have spent more than two weeks at Marrowhurst Hall with Maxwell, they returned to London as planned. This was not about them, or about her, but about Lydia.
For Lydia to make a successful match, they both knew that she needed Maxwell’s presence. And, by extension, Thalia.
Thalia leaned against him in the confines of the carriage. Being with him now felt as natural as breathing, as though they had been lovers all her adult life. Although it had still been a matter of weeks since their sudden marriage, she could hardly recall a time when they had not been like this.
Intimate. Insatiable.
“Tell me a little more about your brother,” he said now, trailing his fingers up her arm idly. Though the words were casual, he said them as though he wanted to hear the answer.
Aside from Anna, no one had ever asked and cared.
“He was the best of men,” she said. “Present company excluded.”
“Naturally,” he said.
“When I was younger, he would always cheer me up after Father did something to make me sad. Or Mother. He had to grow up too quickly, really, but that was just the way things were. When he came back from Cambridge, he would always bring me presents. Bags of candied nuts or new ribbons or a book he thought I might like. Once, he brought me back a doll that I played with every single day, even though I was really too old for dolls.” She sighed, smiling at the thought.
“His friends teased him for it, but he never forgot to remind me he cared in little ways. Having him standing up for me and protecting me against Father’s…
well, the way he was—it made my childhood a little more bearable. ”
“And your mother?”
“I barely remember her, if I’m honest,” Thalia said.
“She used to sing me to sleep when I was very young, and I remember Adrian bundling us out of the door when Father came home drunk. That happened more than once. When I was older, I knew to go upstairs to my bedchamber every time Father came home, and he never disturbed me.”
Maxwell’s arm tightened around her. “It sounds as though your childhood was similar to mine in some ways.”
“Perhaps so. Adrian died abroad, so that was different. Better and worse, I’d imagine.
I never saw him in his final moments—all we had was a letter informing us of the loss.
Father lost his temper so badly that he hurled a pitcher of wine at the walls.
To see the letter, I had to sneak inside his study and read it myself, though it barely said anything. ”
Her heart pinched at the memory, how she had ducked under the desk to read it and cried silently for fear her father might find her.
“That was a dark time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m free of him now.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for helping me escape. I know it was never your intention for us to marry.”
“Well, I always needed a wife,” he said, “even when you turned me away the first time. I suppose it makes sense you finally came around.”
“As though I could have said no!”
“Would you have done if you could?” He raised a brow.
Thalia huffed a breath, though she could not help her smile. “I suppose not.”
“Well then. Your point is moot.”
Thalia closed her eyes. Things would change when they finally reached the house, but she felt ready for it. She and Maxwell knew each other—they had spent two weeks learning each other’s bodies and minds, and she felt ready for the world to see her as his duchess. As his wife.
Lydia and Lady Rivenhall were waiting in the hall to greet them when they finally arrived in London that evening.
“Maxwell!” Lydia said, rushing at her uncle and throwing her arms around him.
He swung her around as he embraced her, and Thalia laughed. He so obviously thought of her as a daughter—and she was determined to think of Lydia as the sister she never had.
Lady Rivenhall hung back, her face perfectly blank and a little reserved. “Welcome back, Your Grace,” she said, sinking into a curtsy. “Welcome back, Maxwell.”
“Thalia, please,” Thalia said. “We’re family now, are we not?”
Lydia glanced between Maxwell and Lydia. “You told her?”
“I told her everything,” he said, and at the relief that washed over Lydia’s face, Thalia knew it had been the right decision.
“And I am excited to have a larger family than I first presumed,” Thalia said, smiling down at Lydia. “I really hope we will be good friends.”
“Of course we will,” Lydia said. “We already are good friends, and now we will just be even better. Do you not think, Mama?”
“I’m sure I’m happy Her Grace has been so welcoming,” Lady Rivenhall said stiffly.
Maxwell pinched his nose. “Joyce.”
“I hope you understand that this is sensitive information,” Lady Rivenhall said. “If anyone ever knew that Lydia was not my husband’s child, she would be ruined.”
The smile fell from Thalia’s face. The coldness in Lady Rivenhall’s voice felt like a knife between her ribs. Of course, the lady had no reason to trust her, but surely, she could trust that Maxwell would not have confided in her if he thought she would betray them all.
“Mama,” Lydia said, a frown passing across her youthful face. “I trust Thalia.”
“Excellent.” Lady Rivenhall gave a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. “I’m very happy to hear it.”
Maxwell pinched his nose. “Enough, Joyce. I am confident Thalia will do nothing to threaten our situation, and I resent the implication that she will. Do you need anything else, or will that satisfy you?”
Lady Rivenhall sank into a low curtsy. “I know how fortunate I am for you to shelter me, Maxwell. Be assured that I am grateful and would never dare question your judgment.”
With that, she swept from the room.
“Excuse Mama,” Lydia said apologetically. “She is concerned about me and, on occasion allows that concern to interfere with her judgment.”
Thalia pushed a knot of emotion deep inside herself.
Although it would have been nice for Lady Rivenhall to welcome her with open arms, she could understand the lady’s suspicion.
This was her daughter, and they were both in a precarious position.
If anything were to happen, they would both be cast out of London.
Thalia would never let that happen.
“It’s quite all right,” she said, keeping her voice bright. She felt rather than heard Maxwell come to stand behind her, his hand resting lightly on her hip. “You have nothing to worry about and nothing to apologize for. In time, we will all be the best of friends, I’m certain.”
Maxwell gave her hip a squeeze, either in support or because he knew that was unlikely. But all he said was, “Let’s get rested and then we’ll start to settle into life here together.”
“You ought to throw a ball,” Lydia said, beaming, Lady Rivenhall’s behavior utterly forgotten. “To celebrate your marriage.”
Thalia linked her arm through Lydia’s. “And, of course, to bring all of London’s attention to you.”
“Well,” Lydia said, “I would not object to that at all.”
“Are you not concerned with how the rumors might affect Lydia?” Joyce demanded Maxwell as he poured himself a drink in the library.
Lydia and Thalia were discussing gowns for the upcoming ball, and he was happy to give the two ladies space to bond. He liked seeing the way they got along; it was better than anything he could have hoped for.
“No,” he said indifferently.
“You were engaged with Thalia, then cancelled your wedding, and now you married her so quickly, with nary a courtship to be seen.” Joyce paced about the room, steps quick. “You trust her with Lydia’s past, but what about the damage that the close association could cause?”
“I doubt it would,” Maxwell said. “Besides, what do rumors matter?”
“They ought to matter plenty.” Finally, Joyce gave in and sat, looking older than before, and exhausted. “You know how fickle the ton can be.”
“I know.”
Joyce paused, frowning into the distance. “She seems nice,” she said at last. “Your Thalia.”
“She is.” He cleared his throat, taking a generous drink. “I would like you all to get along.”
“Of course, Maxwell.”
“You were not friendly when greeting her.”
“I was as friendly as any lady might be to someone who has the power to ruin my entire family.” She shrugged and spared him a brief glance. “But my apologies. I will do better in the future.”
“Good,” he said, and let the subject drop.
They attended their first event—the opera—just one day after returning to Town.
Maxwell held Thalia on his arm, ignoring the whispers that circulated about them.
He had always known this would happen, but it had been his habit of rising above such things, and he hardly saw the necessity for changing his mind now.
Besides, when another scandal happened, and it most certainly would, the attention would change.
On his arm, Thalia looked like an ice queen, glistening in a gown of silver, with pearls in her hair and a diamond around her neck he had gifted her for the occasion. Joyce was the one to insist on the gown, and Maxwell could see why now: she looked every inch the duchess she was supposed to be.
“Everyone is staring at us,” she murmured as they took their place in their box.
“Yes,” he murmured back. “Because you look beautiful.”
“You do,” Lydia chirped from beside Thalia. “And I get to bask in your beauty.”
“You look lovely yourself,” Thalia said.
In contrast, Lydia had donned a pale rose dress that made her look pretty and girlish beside Thalia’s striking beauty. They were the perfect pair, and Maxwell couldn’t help feel a quiet swell of pride at the sight.
Joyce sat on his other side, adjusting her skirts. Although she had dropped the frigidity of their first meeting, and although she had given Thalia some excellent ton advice that morning, he could tell she hadn’t fully warmed to her.
Thalia’s hand slipped in his, and he squeezed her fingers gently, letting her use his strength. When she had been a mere debutante, she had not garnered this much attention or jealousy. Much as he wished she would pay it no heed, he understood that this was an adjustment for her.
Besides, he was happy to allow his family to display a united front to the world. That was the best way of quelling rumor: to showcase that they were united in all ways.
It struck him then, as the curtain rose, that he would be happy to do this for the rest of his life.
And the thought, given this would now be the rest of his life, did not alarm him as much as he might have thought.