Chapter 27 #2
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?” Jonathan remarked, frowning at Thalia.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. Something was niggling at the back of her mind. She couldn’t quite decide what it was, so she simply smiled. “Tell me more about your life growing up, Alex. Did your mother never mention your father at all? Did she mention his name or whether he was dead or married?”
Alex considered, then shook his head. “She said that he was too busy to come and see us but that he loved us very much. You know, when I first came to the orphanage, I made friends with Sophia first because she had almost the same name as Mother. Mother’s name was Sophie.”
Sophie, just like the maid. Christian’s maid. But then, there are lots of Sophies in the world.
“Are you sure she didn’t say his name?” Thalia pressed.
Jonathan looked at her oddly, but she ignored him.
Alex screwed up his face, thinking. Then his expression cleared.
“I remember once she told me a story about him. I’d begged and begged because I always wanted to know about my father.
She said that he was a good, kind man. That we couldn’t live with him because of his father, but that he loved us very much and wished that he could be with us.
I didn’t believe her. I thought that if my father loved us so much, he would find a way to be with us.
I told her as much. Then she sort of sighed, threw more wood into the fire, and said, ‘That’s why it had to be like this.
He would have found a way.’ I didn’t know what that meant, and she wouldn’t explain.
Later that night, I heard her crying in her room, and I decided not to ask any more questions.
It made her upset. But she said a name, and I definitely heard it. ”
Thalia’s heart pounded in her ears. She forced herself to wait, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
“It was Christian,” Alex revealed. “His name was Christian.”
Thalia gave a single, choking laugh, pressing her hand over her mouth.
“Christian?” Jonathan echoed, frowning. “Thalia…”
“Never mind,” Thalia said at once, patting his arm. “Alex, thank you for telling me all of that. It can’t be easy to talk about losing your mother. I know that she can see you now, and she’ll be very proud and pleased with the gentle young man you’re becoming. You should be proud.”
She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Alex’s forehead, and then scrambled to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Jonathan yelped, scuttling after her. He caught up with her at the door. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” she laughed. “Everything has just fallen into place. I can’t believe it. It has been under my nose all this time!”
“You are making no sense,” Jonathan huffed, crossing his arms.
“Never mind, I’ll explain later. I need to talk to Christian. It’s important.”
“Actually, there’s another thing I came to tell you,” Jonathan murmured, pulling a crumpled invitation out of his pocket.
“Your husband is hosting a party at his house tonight. I daresay they think it will force you to go back. But you needn’t worry.
This time, I’ll support you. If you don’t want to go back there, you don’t have to. Not ever.”
Thalia reached out, gripping his shoulders. “Oh, no, Jonathan. I want to go.”
“Oh.” He deflated a little. “Well, Augusta and I will certainly be there to support you. You’re safe, Thalia.”
On impulse, she flung her arms around him.
“Thank you, Jonathan,” she whispered, feeling him gradually relax into her embrace. “Thank you.”
Of course, everybody who was anyone attended Christian’s party. The place was jam-packed, full to the rafters.
Generally speaking, any social event involved two rounds of invitations. The first was sent to the first-choice guests, including those the hosts knew would decline but had to invite anyway, and the ones who were too high and mighty for the party but the hosts hoped would turn up anyway.
Once the first round of regretful refusals and joyful acceptances had come back, the hosts would review their guest list and decide how many more, if any, could be invited.
Not in this case. Nobody had turned down Christian’s invitation. Thalia could tell because she could barely get in the door, let alone find her husband.
“Excuse me,” she bleated, trying to elbow her way past a flock of white-laced debutantes. “Excuse me!” she huffed, losing her patience and all but shoving them aside.
Ignoring the squawks of annoyance, she raced into the ballroom.
There. There he was. Christian stood by the refreshments table, talking to Edwin and Daphne. She hurried over, deliberately pretending not to see acquaintances trying to catch her eye.
Christian turned to face her as she approached, his expression deliberately neutral, giving away nothing.
“Duchess,” he greeted. “How good to see you.”
She was faintly out of breath from her mad, impolite dash through the halls. Edwin and Daphne exchanged long, meaningful looks. If she hadn’t been so desperate to get out her news, she might have paused to glower at them.
Christian’s face, of course, did not change. However, his eyes seemed to brighten, lingering on her with a slow, intent look that made her stomach flutter.
“Enough pleasantries,” she huffed, waving vaguely at Daphne and Edwin in a way that she hoped would indicate a greeting. “Christian, you and I must talk.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “I’ll greet my guests and then—”
“No,” she interrupted firmly. “It is important. Now.”