“A husband has—”
“Donotfinish that sentence if you value your life.” A related thought wedged its way in. “How did you convince her, dressed as you are? No servant would believe the likes ofyou”—She eyed him up and down—“to be the husband of me.”
“Nothing is what it seems in this world.”
“The last few days have been the strangest of my life,” she said. “Can you just state plainly whatever the devil it is you’re not saying?”
“I think you know what I’m not saying.”
“Nick,” she began on a whisper, her body inching forward, his words and the implication within them drawing her in, “are you telling me that Hortense is aspy?” She lowered to a perch on the edge of the settee opposite his. They were now separated by no more than the width of a small, inlaid walnut table.
Nick’s right eyebrow shot up, but he remained otherwise silent. That eyebrow told Mariana all she needed to know. “And here I thought she was a godsend.”
“If you prefer to think of her that way, I won’t object,” Nick cut in, a perverse smile playing about his lips.
“I was even considering taking her back to London with me,” Mariana continued, choosing to ignore his quip. The man always did have a high opinion of himself. “Do you not understand how difficult it is to find a lady’s maid who speaks English in Paris? She is as rare as a Woolly Mammoth in London.”
“A Woolly Mammoth in London?” he asked with a confounded laugh.
“Given my involvement with The Progressive School for Young Ladies and the Education of Their Minds, I spend a good deal of time perusing London’s museums.”
Nick cocked his head. “I would have thought finding you in a stuffy museum would be as rare as finding a Woolly Mammoth in London.”
“I enjoy it.” Again, she sounded defensive.Drat. “And I happen to know that the Museum of Natural History in Paris has its very own Woolly Mammoth.”
In fact, she was disappointed to have missed it on this trip. But Nick needn’t know that. She’d revealed too much about her life already.
“That’s,” he began, a reflective note in his voice, “new.”
“Actually, they acquired it more than one hundred years ago.”
“I wasn’t speaking of the mammoth.”
Mariana’s traitorous insides went light at his words and at the implication within them. The moment could grow soft, and a sense of ease could steal in, if she allowed it. It was an ease she’d felt the first time they’d locked eyes at a dinner party at Uncle Bertie’s country estate—so very long ago. She’d felt they were two halves of the same whole and had been waiting all their lives to be joined together.
She gave herself a mental shake. Such memories were a trap. Over the last decade, she’d done quite well forgetting what she liked about her husband. She wouldn’t allow softness to shake her resolve. This was Nick. He was as soft as a razorblade. “You and I haven’t bothered to have a conversation that doesn’t involve our children in a decade. Now twice in a single night?”
The question hung in the air as he picked a piece of lint off tatty, old trousers. They would be here all night, if that was his purpose, as those pants appeared to be composed entirely of lint. Why was he dressed like a person who possessed neither lodging nor a place to bathe? Surely,collecting informationhad its limits.
“Isn’t it a husband’s prerogative to inquire into his wife’s well-being?”
“Is that what we’re doing? Inquiring into each other’s well-being?” Mariana sank back into lush silk, even as stiff corsetry bit into her skin, and mirrored Nick’s unconcerned pose. Two could play at this game. “Let us review,” she began. “Since I arrived in Paris, I’ve been dividing my time between hospitals, morgues, and ballets. Would you like to hear about the twins?” she asked, forging on. “Lavinia is with Olivia and Lucy. The girl is as mad about horses as ever. Geoffrey is settled at Westminster. He’s requested a kukri knife for his name day.”
“He likely needs one at Westminster. That school has an unruly reputation. I would have seen him at Harrow.”
“Westminster has been educating noble sons for centuries,” Mariana defended. “As the parent who spends the most time in London,Iwould have him closer to home.” She summoned a saint’s own patience to get through this farce. “Your father and mother are well.” With no small amount of satisfaction, she watched him shift in his seat. That movement spoke of discomfiture. “I spoke with them at a soirée just last month.”
“In the same room?” he asked, caution in his words.
“Separately. Have I ever seen them in the same room together?”
“At our wedding.” He paused to consider. “At Geoffrey and Lavinia’s christening.”
“They don’t care much for each other, do they?” It was almost as if she and Nick were conducting a normal conversation. But the past had taught her where this conversation was heading: nowhere. Nick didn’t speak about his family.
“That would be one way of stating the case,” he replied, fiddling with a fingernail as if bored. “Another way of stating it would be to say that they would rather eat a dinner of glass shards than converse face to face.” Hesitant, he asked, “And my brother?”
“I’ve seen Jamie at gatherings here and there,” Mariana replied, her tone one of careful neutrality.
