“Perhaps we can make a new start on our marriage,” he said. “Pretend that the last month did not happen. We can be alone together in Norfolk, Arabella. We can get to know each other. Become friends. Shall we try?”
She was silent for a while. She continued to stare from the window.
“I don’t think it is possible,” she said. “The past month did happen, and no amount of pretending can make either of us forget. It is too late to start again. Everything has been spoiled. However, I am your wife, and I, will continue to do my duty. You may take me where you will. But I can never be your friend, my lord, or you mine.”
Lord Astor stood silently beside her, tapping one fingernail against the windowsill for several moments. Then he moved abruptly and turned away from her.
“You will want to change your dress for the garden party,” he said. “I shall see you downstairs later, Arabella.”
“Yes,” she said. She still stared through the window.
Frances found Theodore talking with Lord Farraday and Lord Astor out on the terrace when she came downstairs. She raised the yellow parasol that complemented her pale blue muslin gown like the sun in the sky and strolled toward them. All three gentlemen turned to bow to her. Theodore separated himself from the group and came to offer her his arm.
“You look very lovely, Fran,” he said. “As usual. Would you care to stroll about the lawn for a while? Not many people are down yet.”
“Thank you, Theodore,” she said, taking his arm, giving her parasol a twirl, and gazing carelessly about her.
“How does this compare with town?” he asked, indicating the immaculately kept lawn and the flowerbeds beyond it with his free arm. “Do you ever feel homesick?”
“Oh, la,” she said with a laugh, “I never have a spare moment in which to think about home, sir. We have a great number of invitations to choose among each day, you know.”
“I am quite sure you do,” Theodore said. “Two such lovely ladies must be much in demand. Bella has been turned into quite a little beauty with her curls and her new gowns. Is it Astor who has had the good taste to forbid all the frills and furbelows that used to make her look like a slightly overgrown child?”
“You must not be unkind about Bella, sir,” Frances said stiffly. “She is the sweetest, kindest sister anyone ever had.”
“I believe you,” he said. “She is also lacking in natural good taste, I would say. You are not about to start weeping, are you, Fran? It is quite unnecessary, you know. I admire Bella’s character quite enough to wish to make her my sister too.”
“You always did lack sensibility,” Frances said, tears sparkling on her long lashes. “It must come from having been a soldier for several years.”
“It is a good thing, too,” he said. “It would not do if we were both watering pots, now, would it, Fran? One of us has to retain some common sense.”
“Well of course I would not expect you to cry all the time,” Frances said, drawing a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes. “That would be most unmanly. But you might at least show some sympathy. You have always made fun of my tender sensibilities.”
“That is not true,” he said. “I distinctly remember taking you into my arms to comfort you not a year ago when you were crying over a dead bird we had found by a hedgerow. I even kissed the top of your head, Fran, and had my face soundly smacked for all my sympathy.”
“Oh,” she said, tossing her head and twirling her parasol angrily. “I do not know why I ever try to hold a sensible conversation with you, Theodore.”
“No,” he agreed. “You show great fortitude. Tell me, does Sir John Charlton show you greater sympathy?”
“He appreciates me,” Frances said.
“Oh, I have no doubt he does,” Theodore said. “Don’t marry him, though, Fran. You would be unhappy. You need someone less in love with himself and more dependable. Me, for example.”
“Sir John is not in love with himself,” Frances said crossly. “Are you making me an offer, Theodore?”
“By no means,” he said. “If I offered for you now, I would probably be sent away with a box on the ears. I have been a soldier, you know. Let us stroll back toward the house. I see there are more people on the terrace than there were. Ah, there is Lady Harriet Meeker. She said she was coming. I must go and pay my respects. Bella is out too. You will doubtless wish to join her.”
“You are probably all impatience for the chance to make her an offer,” Frances said spitefully, giving her parasol such a spin that the breeze noticeably increased about her head.
“Bella?” he said. “She is already married, Fran.”
“You know I mean Lady Harriet,” she said.
“Lady Harriet?” He slowed his pace and looked down at her indignant face in apparent surprise. “Impossible, Fran. She is betrothed. Did you not know? To an earl who prefers the wilds of Yorkshire to London. She talks about almost no one else. When she is with me, anyway. Besides, I doubt if I would offer for her in any event. I just happen to have other plans.”
“Oh,” Frances said faintly, but the expected declaration did not come. Theodore strolled in amiable silence at her side until they reached the terrace, where they went their separate ways.
“Your dog has been settled in the kennels,” Lord Farraday told Arabella when she joined him and Mr. Hubbard on the terrace. “Apparently my poor groom was near deafened by the enthusiastic welcome he received from my own dogs. He will be exercised this evening. If you wish to take him for a longer walk yourself, of course, feel free to do so at any time, ma’am.”
