M Is for Marquess (30 page)

“Pish posh to what others think.” This came from Rosie, who patted Polly’s hand. “I, for one, would much rather be an Original than some milk-fed debutante.”

“That bodes well for your come out,” her mama said dryly.

The waiter arrived with plates of Gunter’s famous confectionaries. The family exclaimed over the luscious treats: small cakes iced with marzipan and fresh cream, jellied fruits, and cookies decorated with violets made of sugar. This was accompanied by strong, steaming tea, and they all dug in with customary gusto.

As Thea nibbled on a bit of cake soaked in elderflower syrup, she reflected on how things had changed. There was a time when the family could scarcely afford bread and cheese never mind a luxury such as Gunter’s. The ritual of eating and talking together, however, felt exactly the same. She experienced a sudden, bittersweet pang; soon she’d not be a Kent in name any longer.

Morosely, she wondered if she and Gabriel would ever achieve this level of ease and comfort with one another. The distance between them was ever widening, and, since their argument, he’d made no physical advances upon her. She, already feeling at a disadvantage in the relationship, wasn’t about to make any on him. She now realized how much she’d come to depend upon their lovemaking to feel the connection between them.

“Things are coming along nicely with the wedding plans,” Marianne commented.

If only the same could be said of the relationship between the bride and groom
.

Pushing aside her worries, Thea said, “Thanks to you. If it weren’t for you, Madame Rousseau would never have made my wedding dress on rush order.”

“Marianne has a knack for wedding planning.” For some reason, Ambrose’s eyes gleamed with humor as at he looked at his wife.

“We all have our talents,” Marianne said demurely, “and I think our rose garden will make the perfect spot for the wedding brunch. It was your father’s favorite place.”

Thea remembered how much Papa had loved having his tea outside, surrounded by the bright blooms and humming insects. She knew she would feel his presence when her special day came. Her throat thickened.

Please watch over me and Gabriel, Papa. Please don’t let us make a terrible mistake.

“Since Marianne has the wedding itself in hand,” Emma put in, “Strathaven and I wanted to contribute something different. We thought you might enjoy a stay at our hunting lodge in Scotland. It’s a beautiful and private place, perfect for a wedding trip. And as Freddy is doing so well, he could make the trip too.”

That had been the one bright spot in Thea’s week. Dr. Abernathy’s fasting and dietary protocol seemed to be working wonders. The physician had predicted that if there were to be positive results, they would be immediate. Like a miracle, Freddy hadn’t had a single spell since he’d begun treatment. Even Gabriel had evinced grudging surprise and guarded hope.

“Freddy could stay with us at Strathmore,” Emma went on. “It’s just an hour away from the lodge, so you can check in on him whenever you’d like.”

“May I come too, Aunt Emma?” A dab of cream clung to Edward’s upper lip. “I could keep Freddy company. We’ll be cousins, after all.”

As expected, he and Freddy had become fast friends. In fact, they were so inseparable that Violet had nicknamed the pair “Fredward.”

Marianne motioned at her lip, and Edward hastily wiped his mouth.

“Of course you may,” Emma said, “if your parents agree.”

“As lovely as it sounds, a trip to Scotland will have to wait,” Thea said. “Tremont wants to return to Hampshire once the business in London is complete.”

“After all the man’s been through lately, I can’t blame him. I’m sure all he wants is to settle in with his new bride,” Ambrose said. “To enjoy some much deserved peace and domesticity.”

To her horror, Thea felt her smile wobble.

Her brother frowned, his gaze darting swiftly to Marianne. Time and again, Thea had seen the pair engage in such wordless communication, as if they could read each other’s thoughts.

What if Gabriel and I never achieve such intimacy? Or any intimacy at all?

“Ambrose, darling, why don’t you take everyone outside for a stroll in the square?” Marianne said. “Emma, Thea, and I have wedding matters to discuss.”

Ambrose put down his napkin. “Capital idea, my love. Come along, everyone.”

The younger Kents tromped out after him, leaving Thea with Marianne and Emma.

Without preamble, Marianne said, “How are you, dear?”

To Thea’s dismay, heat pushed behind her eyes. “Why do you ask?” she said, fumbling for her reticule.

Emma passed her handkerchief. “Because you’ve looked on the edge of tears all week. Having a case of the bridal jitters, dear?”

Knowing that her feelings had been visible to all made her feel even more wretched.

“I don’t know if it’s jitters or not,” she said, her voice hitching. “But Tremont and I—we had an argument. And I don’t know… I don’t know if he’ll ever love me.”

With that, she burst into tears.

Emma rubbed her back. “There, there now. Let it all out. We’re here to listen.”

In between halting breaths, Thea shared the marriage pact she’d made with Gabriel. She had to edit out the intimate details, of course, but she disclosed that she’d let words of love slip out and his reaction to them. She spoke of his increasing coldness, their recent disagreement.

“The gist of it is, I thought he was falling in love with me and just couldn’t say the words,” she concluded, sniffling. “I thought because he’d been a spy, he’d learned to block out his emotions to survive, and I believed it was just a matter of unlearning the tendency. I thought if we had honesty and trust, he’d come to love me eventually. But now I’m wondering if all of that was wishful thinking on my part.”

“His reaction to your declaration of love
was
rather Siberian,” Marianne said.

“I know.” Her despair grew.

“But perhaps that’s not the only explanation for his recent behavior,” her sister-in-law went on. “Perhaps it’s not your love that he’s reacting so badly to. Or not entirely that, anyway.”

“What else could it be?” she said miserably.

Marianne’s expression was pensive. “Ambrose mentioned that Tremont was quite forceful in the way he took Heath down. As if he were possessed by some inner demons. Ambrose said he had to stop Tremont from killing the man and that, afterward, Tremont seemed shaken and withdrawn. Not at all himself.”

Gabriel’s words echoed in Thea’s head.
I wanted to put espionage behind me, to never spill another’s blood again.
Understanding began to spread like sensation returning to a limb that had fallen asleep.

With prickling awareness, she said, “What he was forced to do during the war eats at him. He may seem stoic, but guilt festers inside him. To come face to face with that time in his life, to re-experience that betrayal and horror…”

Dear God, is this why he’s been so distant? So cold?

Marianne gave her an intent look. “Be that as it may, your brother wanted to make sure that you are safe.”

“Safe?” Thea said, blinking.

Marianne gave a firm nod. “In a physical sense.”

“Tremont would never hurt me physically. If anything, he’s overprotective.” Thea pursed her lips. “Emotionally, however, he may drive me mad. He hasn’t spoken a word about his capture of Heath. I’ve tried to ask him what the matter was, but all he’ll say is that he’s fine.”

Emma snorted. “If I had a penny for every time I heard that from His Grace, I’d be richer than Croesus.”

“What you’ve told me explains so much, Marianne.” A wave of hope surged through Thea as she saw the situation through a new lens. “If only Tremont had talked to me. If I had known, I wouldn’t have pushed… wouldn’t have gotten so frustrated. Perhaps we wouldn’t have fought…”

“You mustn’t take the blame, dear,” Em said crisply. “You can’t read his mind.”

That
was
true. Thea gnawed on her lower lip. “I just wish I hadn’t brought up his wife. That wasn’t well done of me at all.”

“Are you having second thoughts, dear?” Marianne said quietly. “Because if you are, we will support—”

“No.” Thea’s feelings suddenly clarified. Things between her and Gabriel were far from perfect, but as long as the possibility of love remained, there was hope. “I want to marry Tremont. I love him.”

“And if he’s not able to give you his love in return?” Em said. “What then?”

The truth blazed.

“That’s the risk I’ll have to take,” she said.

It was called
falling
in love for a reason, she realized. There was no guarantee of safety. One could gaze out longingly from one’s window in a tower… or take the jump.

Chapter Thirty-Three

That evening, Gabriel broodingly watched the gaiety going on around him. Kent and his wife were throwing him and Thea an informal engagement party, and he was struck by a sense of unreality as he observed his betrothed’s laughing, boisterous kin. Their warm affection, the way they bantered back and forth so freely with one another… he’d never known families such as this existed.

His own parents had led separate lives. Papa had been off whoring or gambling, whilst Mama had spent hours praying, presumably to make up for her husband’s sins. Gabriel had a faint impression of his mother emerging from her cocoon.
You mustn’t dirty Mama’s dress
, she’d say in her cool, lilting voice. She would flutter out of reach like a beautiful butterfly whose wings must never be touched.

Much like… Sylvia.

He frowned as he made that connection for the first time. His first wife, too, had shied away from open affection. Visits with Freddy had been formal, conducted twice daily: a half-hour after breakfast and a half-hour before supper. She and Gabriel had taken their meals separately from their son; with a twinge, he recalled how stilted their conversations had become, the two of them dining at the opposite ends of an empty table.

Presently, the Kents were arranged with haphazard coziness on the furniture or on the carpet in front of the merrily burning hearth. Harry, the brother Gabriel had met for the first time that evening, had started off the festivities with a demonstration of his latest scientific creation: a batch of invisible ink. The vial of liquid was a clear, light pink that was nearly colorless; when Harry wrote a sentence on a piece of parchment, the paper appeared blank and untouched. When he held it near the flame of a lamp, however, his message appeared as if by magic:

Things are not as they appear.

After a resounding round of applause, Harry explained the chemical mechanism behind the mysterious ink. Ruefully, Gabriel thought Harry’s invention would have come in handy back in his espionage days. The younger Kents were tickled to pieces… and Freddy, too. When Harry presented the boy with a small vial of ink, Freddy’s eyes turned as big as saucers. He took the bottle as reverently as if it were the crown jewels.

As soon as the demonstration was done with, the boy plopped down on the carpet with Polly, Primrose, and Edward. The four proceeded to play a game involving a great quantity of sticks and even more hilarity. As Freddy whooped with joy when he successfully removed a stick without disturbing the pile, Gabriel could scarcely credit the change in his once timid son.

In a short span of weeks, Frederick had blossomed. Not only were his falling spells improving, but the warmth of Thea and her family had infused him with new vitality. Freddy was now a boy like any other. Glancing at Thea—talking quietly with Kent by the pianoforte—Gabriel experienced a spasm in his chest. It took him a moment to recognize his feelings as longing and gratitude… mingled with bone-deep fear.

He knew that he was being a bastard. Making a bloody hash of things. Day by day, he’d felt the chasm widening between him and Thea. It had started when she told him she loved him. The fierceness of his response had taken him aback; he hadn’t known how to answer. His inner voice had whispered,
Begin as you mean to go on. Don’t set her up for disappointment.

To compound matters, the business with Heath the next day had… unsettled him. Resurrected a part of himself that he wanted nothing to do with. The mindless, bloodthirsty animal who had gotten Marius killed. No way in hell was he letting that near Thea. He had stayed away from her, couldn’t risk touching her, tainting her while the darkness raged inside him. When she’d pushed to get closer, he’d lashed out at her.

Guilt and self-hatred crept over him as he thought of how badly he’d treated her… again. She’d only wanted to help Freddy, and he’d acted like a damned blighter. When she’d left the room, a part of him had wanted to chase after her, to fall on his knees and apologize. The other part had kept him rooted in place, paralyzed by a growing sense of inevitability.

How could she love him, after all? When no one had done so before?

As the days had passed, thankfully the darkness in him had subsided, and finally, tonight, he’d felt in control again. The numbness had faded; he was back in his own skin. With crystal clarity, he realized that he needed to talk to Thea, to beg her forgiveness for his behavior. The only thing holding him back was fear. What if he’d bungled things up beyond repair? What if she no longer wanted him?

The advice that Strathaven had given him in the carriage suddenly echoed in his head.
Drink from a clean cup.

The duke was right. Thea wasn’t Sylvia. She was unique, rare.

Stop acting like a namby-pamby fool,
he told himself.
Go and bloody talk to her.

Expelling a breath, he headed over to Thea and her brother.

“May I join in?” he said.

“Of course.” Her voice was light, her hazel gaze guarded.

“How are you finding our family affair?” Kent said.

“It’s lively,” he said honestly.

The investigator shared a wry glance with his sister. “We’ve certainly been called worse.”

“I meant no offense. By lively, I meant kind and welcoming—” he began.

“Ambrose is just teasing.” Thea’s smile chased away some of his emptiness. Hungrily, he absorbed her sweetness, her radiance, everything about her. “It’s a Kent tendency, I’m afraid.”