“I attended the balls and soirees and everything else last Season because you were there,” Reed said. “I was courting you, dear. A suitor is required to do all those things. A husband is not.”
A husband is not.The pieces began to fall into place. “Now that you’ve secured yourself a wife, you aren’t obligated to squire her about to all those ‘tedious’ affairs.”
“No, thank the heavens.” He smiled as if being excused from accompanying her to those same entertainments they had once enjoyed was the greatest of escapes. Had he feigned his pleasure the Season before? Or did he simply not wish to be bothered to take her about?
“You don’t wish to go to Fanny’s ball tonight?”
He slipped a hand beneath her chin and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “No gentleman ever wishes to go to a ball. We only go when we absolutely have to, but once that obligation has passed we happily leave the chore to those gentlemen still neck-deep in the Marriage Mart.” He gave her a lopsided smile then walked back to his chair.
This was her future then. She would either be forced to attend balls alone and be a wallflower as she’d feared during her time as an unwed young lady, or she would spend her nights in Towngazing out windows, wishing her husband had enjoyed dancing with her as much as he’d pretended to.
A suitor is required to do all those things. A husband is not.
She had been worth the effort of a courtship before they married. Now that he’d secured her hand, going about with her was seen as a chore, a distasteful bit of effort he’d rather not make.
Lucy returned to her bedchamber as she had so many times over the past two weeks. Her maid had taken to simply waiting for her. In silence, she helped Lucy undress then pulled the many pins from her hair.
Why did I even bother?
She felt rather like an old pair of slippers. She wanted to be worth the effort to him again. She wanted the feeling of being cherished and treasured, the joy of dancing with him, of watching for him to appear at her theater box. She wanted him to do all those things, not because courtshiprequiredit of him, but because he wished for her company.
Her “perfect” Season had crumbled. She had looked forward to the coming months with eager anticipation. Then Reed declared going about with her a “chore.” Her heartache began to give way to frustration then a surge of determination.
Perhaps it is time Reed discovered what life is like without his comfortable old slippers.
Chapter Three
Lucy occasionally took a breakfast tray in her room, so Reed thought little of it when she didn’t join him for the morning meal. He spent a leisurely few hours at his club then an invigorating afternoon at Gentleman Jackson’s. He fully expected to find Lucy up and about when he arrived home. The sitting room, drawing room and back gardens, however, were empty.
Lucy wasn’t in her rooms or his. He made a quick check of the guest bedchambers and nursery, on the off chance she might be there. But in the end, he returned to his wife’s bedchamber baffled.
Perhaps she was out making morning calls. The hour was only a bit late for that. She might simply be on her way back.
He moved toward the door, intending to spend some time in his book room, catching up on a few matters of business. He stopped, however, before stepping out of Lucy’s bedchamber.Reed looked back at the room. Something about it was different, odd. But what?
The furniture was all the same and in the same places. He didn’t think the curtains were different or the coverlet on Lucy’s bed changed.
Where are her perfume bottles and her hairbrush?
Lucy kept more knickknacks on her dressing table than anyone Reed had ever known. But the dressing table was empty. Utterly. He pulled open the doors of her wardrobe and found it as empty as her dressing table. His wife and all her belongings had vanished.
What in heaven’s name?
Reed tugged on the bell pull. Someone in the house had to have seen her that day. Someone must know what had happened.
A moment later, one of the chambermaids stepped inside.
“I had hoped to speak with Mrs. Stanthorpe’s abigail,” Reed said.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but she’s gone with Mrs. Stanthorpe.”
Ah. Someone did know something. “And where did Mrs. Stanthorpe go?”
“I don’t rightly know, sir. But she left in the carriage.”
The driver would know where he’d taken Lucy. “Thank you,” Reed said.
She gave a quick curtsy and scurried from the room. Reed waited but the briefest of moments before walking to the entryway. After inquiring of the footman whether or not the carriage had returned and learning that it had, Reed sent word to the stables that he wished the carriage brought around.
