Chapter 15
Fifteen
Thalia was used to being spoken about and looked at when she attended public functions.
Since her return to high society, such things were commonplace.
And when she and Ronan walked into the back garden of Highmoor Estate, she was not in the least bit surprised to find that almost immediately the attention found her as if her arrival had been announced.
Only this time, it felt different.
She walked with her arm linked through Ronan’s.
And through him, she felt a surge of confidence that was unlike anything she had experienced before.
He was a tall and physically imposing specimen, powerful in his presence, demanding in his gait, and by his side it was as if a wall had been erected around the two.
Thalia felt safe and protected like she had never known. The guests turned and stared as they entered. The whispers began and she saw more than one smirk of derision crossing a pair of lips. But with the duke beside her, protecting her, she hardly even noticed it.
“Try not to let it bother you,” Ronan said as if he could read their minds. “I assure you, I am the one whom they are staring at.”
“Oh, I wasn’t,” she said. As she did, she looked up and smiled so he would see it was true. “I hardly even noticed it.”
He laughed darkly. “I wish I could say the same.”
Thalia frowned at the comment, surprised that one as assured of himself as the duke would care for such things. That he would even notice. But perhaps that was part of the reason he hid himself away as he did. It was not because he did not care… but because he cared a little too much.
“Do you know what I think?” she said, keeping her arm linked.
“What?”
“That they are jealous.”
He scoffed. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“And why not?” she continued rightly. “The way people act toward others is often an extension of their own failings. And when they saw us walking in here as they have, arm in arm, they realized that they do not have what we do.”
“And what is that?”
Thalia could not help but smile as a thought came to mind. “As far as they are concerned or aware, a happy marriage which should be the envy of the ton.”
Ronan snorted. “Is that what we are?”
She shrugged. “They do not know otherwise. Besides, is that not the point of today? To present ourselves as if such a thing was true.”
“I…” He bit into his lips, eyes flashing around the large garden. “I suppose it is.”
“Then let us do just that.” She reached over and rested her hand on top of Ronan’s, which was still linked through her arm. “Let us give them something worth the gossip.”
It was subtle, but she could have sworn that she felt Ronan relaxing as they continued down the garden path.
Indeed, the guests continued to eye them warily and with curiosity, but the judgement lessened considerably.
He stood taller, she matched it. He raised his chin, and she did the same.
And when she smiled, out the corner of her eye she saw him return it.
If I did not know any better, I might almost believe the lie. He certainly is selling it… rather easily, at that.
The last three days were easily the best of the marriage so far.
It was not quite where it could be, and perhaps it never would reach such a place.
But in those last three days, Thalia had found a sense of comfort forming between herself and Ronan; the feeling that he accepted them into his home, was even glad that they were there, and was committing himself to ensuring that she felt the same way.
Olivia was to thank for it all. She had been so eager, and so impossibly enthusiastic. She had worn through the duke’s outer shell and forced the hidden side of him to peer out its head as if checking that it was safe to do so.
They still did not eat supper or breakfast together. They had still not spent the day together. But he was now more than happy to check in on them from time to time, to make sure that they had everything, and on more than one occasion she had stumbled into a room to find him speaking with Olivia.
Thus, today was most important.
It was the first time that she and Ronan were given time alone together. Never mind the setting. Never mind the need to present airs of romantic courtship. What Thalia wanted most was simply to be around Ronan and show him that the two could work together.
I still cannot say what I want exactly from this marriage. But that I am not so quick to dismiss the chance of something more… that says enough about how I am starting to feel.
They were standing toward the back of the garden, enjoying a glass of wine together, saying little but with no awkwardness as they looked around the garden.
Few dared to approach, but none stared as the excitement and curiosity of their arrival was gone.
Thalia doubted they would dance or play any games today, but she did not much want to. For now, this was enough.
“Ronan!” a voice cried out from among the guests.
Thalia turned and smiled to see a handsome lord hurrying toward them. She recognized him as one of Ronan’s friends from the wedding, and she was eager to see how he interacted with those he considered companions.
“I think it is about time I stop acting so surprised to see you out of your cave!” The lord reached them, laughing gaily to himself. “It is damn near commonplace by now.”
“Sebastian,” Ronan groaned. “If I had known you would be here, I might have stayed in my cave.”
He laughed and slapped his friend on the back before turning his attention to Thalia. “Ah, Your Grace…” He took her hand and gave it a kiss. “It is so lovely to see you again. I might have introduced myself at the wedding, but time didn’t allow it.”
“I’ll try not to hold it against you,” she said jokingly.
“Thalia, this is Duke Hawthorne.”
“Sebastion, please,” he corrected. “And I wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“What for?” she asked.
He grinned. “For reminding this one that a world exists outside the walls of his castle.” She saw Ronan roll his eyes.
“Perhaps your thanks is misplaced,” she said. “Would you believe that Ronan was the one who insisted that we come?”
“No!” he cried.
“Yes,” she said.
He laughed further and shook his head at Ronan. “Please, tell me if I overstep—”
“Which means you are about to,” Ronan grumbled.
“-- but do I see before me a marriage that isn’t the travesty my dear friend was predicting.” He winked and Ronan glared warningly at him. “Dare I say… that the two of you are even ha—”
“I think I hear your wife calling you,” Ronan cut him off before he had the chance to finish. “And if she is not, why don’t you be a good husband and go and find her.”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes, yes…” He grinned wickedly at his friend. “I know when I am not wanted. The lovebirds wish for some time alone…” He winked at Ronan, offered a short bow to Thalia, and ducked away.
“Sorry about him,” Ronan said, glaring after his friend. “He is…”
“A lot,” she agreed with laughter. “But I do not mind. If anything, I am curious.”
“Curious?”
She flashed her eyes. “To see what type of man could befriend my husband. It is quite the achievement.”
Ronan’s brow furrowed and his eyes searched her as if he thought she was being serious. But she was sure to let the smile reach her eyes and his face dropped. “Ah, very clever.”
“And funny.”
He shook his head and laughed as he did.
Thalia smiled to herself, understanding now exactly the type of man her husband was.
He liked to pretend that he wished to be left alone.
He feigned isolation, as if opening himself to others was a weakness.
But there was a side of him that liked his friends, that enjoyed companionship. He simply refused to admit it.
But why? Thalia very nearly asked… but stopped herself. No… not yet. They were not quite ready to have a conversation like that. For now, all they needed to do was enjoy the day ahead. They had taken a large step forward down the right path, as she saw it.
The rest of the afternoon was spent pleasantly.
They stayed mostly to the back of the garden. Every now and then, a lord or lady would approach and give their greetings, rarely staying long, as if they wanted to test the waters and find out if what they could see with their own eyes was true.
And for a time, Thalia was able to feel relieved, happy to say that their first outing as a married couple passed without incident. Exactly what they needed. Only then…
“Your Grace!”
Through the crowd, a gentleman stumbled toward them. He was somewhere in his fifties, hair gray and receding, his skin blotched from the sun and how much he’d clearly drunk during the day. “Ah yes…” He laughed as he came for them. “The Duke of Westvale, what a treat.”
Thalia was standing beside Ronan, and she saw him stiffen and his eyes flash with menace. Feeling that she needed to, she reached out and rested a hand on his arm to calm him. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Lord Westmere,” Ronan said darkly. “It is nice to see you again.”
“I would hope so!” Lord Westmere stopped before them, body swaying and eyes glazed over. “Ah…” He turned to Thalia. “And this must be the wife.”
“Lord Westmere…” She offered him a small curtsey. “It is nice to meet you.” She had no idea who this man was, but from the way he eyed her, he seemed to know who she was. Oh no…
“Is it now?” he laughed. Behind him, a small crowd was watching, having heard his laughter, and having noticed the scene he was making. “I’m surprised to find you alone,” he said.
She frowned. “Alone? I am not. His Grace—”
“That is not what I meant…” He burped and wiped his mouth. “Tell me, where is the little sprout? You know who I mean…” He scrunched his face into a ball. “Never did learn her name. Your daughter.”
Again, she felt Ronan stiffen and a quick glance confirmed the warning he had Lord Westmere fixed in.
“Oh, Olivia,” she said with a friendly smile, wishing to de-escalate. “She is home.”
“For the best,” he blurted. “Can’t be having a bastard like that attending events like this now, can we.” Olivia’s stomach clenched and she felt her anger spike. “Wouldn’t be right. Although who is to say what’s right, aye!” He laughed. “But if we start letting bastards attend—”
It happened quickly.
Olivia’s anger grew rapidly, and she worked painfully to keep it contained. Body running hot, jaw clenched, she tried to breathe to calm herself. But her husband had no such reservations.
His curled fist swung and punched Lord Westmere square in the nose. The thwack rang across the garden, as did the painfilled cry which ripped from the lord’s lips as he tumbled to the ground.
“Ronan!” Thalia cried out.
“My nose!” Lord Westmere groaned from on his knees. “You broke my nose!”
Ronan was standing over him, fists clenched, a look on his face of such demented rage that even Thalia was fearful of what her husband might do. He was shaking, face red like the setting sun, glaring at Lord Westmere as a wolf might a rabbit it had come across in the wild.
About them, the crowd was watching. The music which had been playing stopped dead, throwing the scene into a state of stunned and awkward silence. Eyes widened. Mouths opened. Once again, attention was directed at her and Ronan.
Thalia, thinking quickly, rested her hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Ronan,” she said softly. “Don’t. There is no need.”
He came back into himself at her words. He shut his eyes tight, breathed deeply, and she felt him relax… if only a bit. “We should go,” he said, a quick glance about them to confirm the fact. “Now.”
Thalia did not argue.
She took her husband’s hand and was pulled through the garden and away from the party. As she was, and despite her best efforts, Thalia allowed herself to smile at what had just occurred. In all her life she would never have imagined such a thing
He cares for Olivia, maybe he even loves her. And that is what matters here.
That single realization was enough to tell Thalia everything she needed to know about this marriage and its future. And of Ronan, especially.