Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
" H ow are Abigail and Kenneth progressing?" Cedric said suddenly, moving her around the platform smoothly to the music of a light waltz, his eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder as though he was barely present with her.
"Very well, my lord," Louisa said quietly. It felt as though he was reinforcing their boundaries, the reason for their marriage. It was not something she needed reminding of. "Kenneth is coming out of his shell more and more, and I believe I may have reached the point where Abigail only gazes at me in dark suspicion for half the time that we spend together."
He laughed softly, surprised. "That is an achievement indeed. She is very protective of her brother, I feel as though every time I speak to them she is trying to read the worst into everything I say."
"She certainly does not want to be caught off guard," Louisa said cautiously. She wasn't sure if she wanted to point out to Cedric that doing things like using Abigail as a tool to stop her from playing with Kenneth that day in the gardens would hardly help him to endear himself to the small girl.
"I can hardly blame her," he said pensively, glancing at her with an expression that was so perfectly balanced between amusement and sorrow that it made her breath hitch for a moment. "You seem to be growing closer to both of them."
"I hope so."
"It is admirable that you have been able to do so this quickly," he said, a little stiltedly. "I wish I could do the same."
Louisa considered this for a moment as the dance came to an end and they waited for the musicians to start something new. Apparently her husband had no intention of letting anyone else dance with her for the moment, and though she could see more than one interested pair of eyes watching them, she couldn't complain. She had no intention of moving away from the slim protection that he afforded her from the gossip and the questions and the endless dropped hints.
As the new piece of music started and he took her hand once more, she picked her question carefully. It would be easy to point out to him that when she wasn't managing the estate as the Lady of the House, which took hours of her time and gave her increasing headaches, she was talking to the housekeeper about the children and what they needed, spending time with the children for some of their meals, working on ideas for lessons for them and arranging their bedtime so of course they were warming up to her faster than their uncle, whom they spent so very little time with.
But that, she felt, was not what her husband needed.
"You clearly loved your brother," she said, trying to ignore the way his grip on her hand tightened at her words, almost painful. "Can you tell me a little more about how you became separated from him?"
Cedric looked as though he might not answer for a long moment, his face closed off and dark. But then he cleared his throat and spoke softly, swiftly like he was afraid to stop speaking in case he might not be able to again. "Peter was my younger brother. A very dearly beloved child, the funniest little fellow. I would pretend that I was too old to spend time with him, but I secretly adored how his face always turned to find me whenever we were in the same room. He came to me with everything and I liked that, I liked being the person who could make his world brighter."
He paused for so long that she was sure this was going to be everything he would say. She was thinking about how to use this example to link back to the children and how he could be the same kind of person to them when Cedric tightened his grip on her once again, his voice angry and cold but for once the anger didn't seem to be directed at her.
"After the age of seven I never saw him again. Do not take from my words that we were close to each other, apart from several years as a very small child I have no memory of Peter. We were raised in separate houses for the rest of our childhood. I remember seeing him leaving, asking my father why he did not keep the both of us and him explaining that my mother's family was so powerful and she had demanded that we be divided equally. Fighting her family might have ruined him, politically if not in other ways. So my brother was my mother's and I was my father's."
"And you didn't see him again?" Louisa asked, heart clenching at the thought. She couldn't imagine what it would be like if her dear mama had left her father and taken Alexandra with her. How would they have lived with such a hole in their hearts and lives?
"I did not," Cedric said sharply. "It is not so very unusual. We managed perfectly well without my mother, better I would have said. My mother had very strict ideas on how a man should be raised. She refused to allow tutors or a governess to be hired and taught me herself. I can remember the arguments she and my father would have endlessly about the choices she was making."
He paused again and this time Louisa tightened her grip, wanting to show him that she was there.
"I missed my brother of course," he said, tone brutally casual, as though he was forcing himself onwards. "But I perhaps did not realize how much I missed him. When he died it felt like my world was ending, yet he hadn't been in it since I was seven."
"I suppose it took away any chance of him ever reentering your life," Louisa said softly.
"Indeed. And the way that he died, the blaze that took him. It was such a cruel business."
To lose someone, a beloved someone, so thoroughly and in so deeply tragic a way made Louisa's heart ache to think of. Despite how he acted, she felt that Cedric felt the loss keenly, perhaps even more deeply for not being able to speak of it.
"I'm sorry," Louisa said, sincerely. "I promise I will help you with the children. Together we can reach past the walls they have raised and help them. You will be their favorite in no time. After all, I am the one who will insist that they must eat their salad."
He laughed a little and looked at her intensely. For a moment, and only such a small moment, a second perhaps, Louisa thought he was going to say something important to her. "Are you very insistent on salad, then, my wife? Is that the secret to your fine looks?"
The moment passed.
It was simple enough to turn the conversation away from his own history and back towards teasing his wife. Cedric smiled at her, sharp and fierce and was pleased to see her flush in annoyance. He did not know how she continued to slip under his defenses and learn such secrets from him but at least she was easy to distract.
"It is indeed how I get my eyes to be so green," Louisa said dryly. "Tell me, my lord, where do you get your wit? Is it from some paper particularly written for men who will not be serious for a moment in their lives?"
"If there were such a paper I would subscribe to it in a moment," he said, laughing at her cross little pout. "And why should I not when there are those like yourself who are serious all the time in my stead?"
"And this is the true reason why we are wed, my lord, you needed someone to be a serious proxy for you."
She was smiling now, a little amused look that suited her well. Cedric was pleased to see it and chuckled a little, pausing a moment to press a kiss to her gloved hand.
"You are an excellent proxy, my dear, taking care of my serious obligations without complaint."
"I protest, sir! I complain frequently. I am not built for the level of seriousness that you have left undone. You must mend your ways and do at least a little of your own seriousness and I shall do a little of my own wit and laughter."
"You are certainly doing at least a little right now," he drawled, pleased when she flouted conventions and laughed with him. "Is there something about my company that brings out your daring side, sweet wife?"
"You bring a great many things out in me, sir. Shall I name them?"
"Please do, or are some of the things not appropriate for company?"
"Since when do you care about what is appropriate for company, my lord?" her eyes sparkled at him and he felt himself being drawn to her, the joy of her, the way that she was blooming in front of his eyes. Hector had mentioned English Roses and perhaps that was not so ridiculous a thing to call her. She was as delicate as a rose and as lovely and the way that she relaxed and opened up to him was something that was a thing of true beauty.
"Perhaps I have more to protect now than I did before," he said lightly, pleased as she flushed just a little in a happy way instead of the usual frustration he was able to bring out in her.
"Perhaps I can believe it," she said pertly, letting him sweep her around in a broad circle to a bright piece of the music. "You certainly did nothing to protect yourself before now."
"Alas, it is true. You will have to help me learn your ways," he said, smiling at her. She returned the smile in a soft moment, a moment of light and music that lifted his heart and made him want to bring her closer. Perhaps even bring their lips together in this magical instant and drink in the joy and innocence of her.
When had he last felt this way? When was the last time he had felt this spark of joy? This drawn to another?
Before he could think on it too long the heavens opened and rain came thundering down on their heads. Cedric cursed softly, looking about for something that might save his wife's dress at the least if not the effort she had put into her hair when a noise stopped him.
Louisa was laughing. Not just laughing, not just amused, but delighted. She clung to him, getting soaked, her head turned up to the sky and a look of such unbridled happiness on her face that he found he could not care about his own fine clothes getting wet as well.
All the other couples were fleeing, little shrieks from the women as they hurried towards shelter and muted curses from the men as they attempted to help.
"Please!" Louisa clung to him, smiling bright enough to be a star. "Can we stay just a little? Please?"
"Do you want to keep dancing, sweet wife?" he asked in a soft, low voice. "Even in the rain?"
"Even more so in the rain, it's beautiful," she replied. Her eyes were alight in the lamplight that was left and with the water running down her face and her dress plastered to her lithe figure she had never looked lovelier.
Cedric turned and glanced at the musicians who were trying to pack up as swiftly as possible. "Play another tune," he said.
"My lord," the head musician protested, a man with white hair and a nose like a smashed grape. "We cannot have the strings get wet!"
"Then enter the pagoda," he said firmly. "My wife wants to dance so you will play for us. I will compensate you. Play."
Only one of the men hesitated and even that man crumbled as his fellows shuffled towards the scant shelter of the pagoda and started setting up their instruments. It would no doubt cost him but the delight on Louisa's face was more than enough payment for the trouble.
"May I?" Cedric asked.
"Yes," she said, taking his hand in her own small delicate one. "I would be so pleased to dance with you."
The music bloomed around them as he spun her around the platform, rain soaking through to their skin. She looked like a water spirit, a weather goddess perhaps. She was so beautiful like this, the water did nothing to detract from her looks. It was like some strange painting of a mystical creature that was made to be seen only in tumultuous weather and he wondered if in some past life she had been a witch who had called down storms or a siren on a rock singing sweet songs to men who might hear her and follow her to their dooms.
He wanted to continue dancing like this forever. He wanted to hold her to him and not let go. She was beautiful, she was captivating and he felt more alive than he had in many years.
What spell are you casting on me, Louisa? He wondered. Where will this take us?
A rumble from above threatened more actual thunder than just rain. Louisa shrieked, half delighted and half scared, clinging to him tightly.
"Should we escape the thunder?" he asked with a laugh.
"Well we have braved one storm already," she said, breathless and wicked. "I feel that we don't need to brave another to prove our love."
He grinned at her, pleased that she remembered the story he had created for their meeting and swept his jacket off to hold above her head. "Fly then with my, my lady. We will find a fire and some brandy."
"I am in your hands, my lord," she said as he wrapped one arm around her waist and swept her towards the manor house and shelter. For some reason her words made his heart clench at the sense of responsibility that came with them. He could not let her down.