“Alone?” he repeated with a frown. “I thought you invited people.”
“Oh, I did,” she confirmed. “But they are your intimates, not mine. And I am not yet your wife. I will simply be observing from the crowd, but I will be permitted to rejoin your side after the knighting.”
He shook his head, his frown deepening. “No, that will not do. Zeller!”
“Oh, you really don’t need to—”
“Zeller!” he called again, standing. “I require you!”
It took a suspiciously brief moment for the German to appear, slipping in through the parlor door as though he’d been standing just outside of it with his elderly ear pressed right to the wood. Ambrose would address that some other time.
“Yes, Herr Ambrose?” he said, innocent as a lamb.
“Zeller, you will be accompanying Miss Beck tonight to St. James’s Palace,” he said. “You will escort her while I am otherwise occupied during the ceremony and ensure she is not left alone.”
The man brightened, clicking his heels together. “Yes, Herr Ambrose! I would be delighted!”
“Excellent,” he said, nodding once at the butler and then once at his bride. “You may go. We depart at half six.”
“Sir,” said Zeller, and he vanished again, off to resume his eavesdropping no doubt.
Ambrose spun around, preparing to explain to Vix that the man could be decent company if you asked about one of his three favorite subjects, only to find that she had risen from the chair and was staring at him with what looked like utter dumbfoundedness.
He paused, uncertain if he’d just overstepped, and took a step toward her. “He can chat if you wind him up correctly, but he’ll be silent if that’s your preference. I’ll give you notes.”
“That was very kind of you,” she said, her voice abrupt and not as icy smooth as it usually was. It almost sounded accusatory.
She looked truly taken aback, those big dark eyes blinking at him with an odd gleam.
“I … thank you?” he said, taking another tentative step. “I don’t want you to be alone all night.”
“Why not?” she asked, direct and firm. “Why don’t you want me to be alone?”
He released a little breath, almost a laugh but not quite, taking another step, just short of the little glass table. “Because that would seem terribly sad to me? Because you are there for me, and I shan’t have you floating about as though becoming my wife means a lifetime of isolation.”
“Ah,” she said, her shoulders easing like she’d found a spot of relief. “For appearances, you mean?”
“Appearances? No!” He stared at her, feeling the oddest urge to turn around and kick something. “Because it is the decent thing to do, Vix. What are you even asking me?”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “This isn’t a complicated question,” she snapped. “I’m confused by your confusion.”
“Well, I suppose that makes two of us,” he replied, raising his brows. “Nothing about securing an escort for your evening seems abstract to me.”
“How very wonderful for you,” she replied, frowning and looking away.
He stared, the silence stretching out in front of him in baffled white relief. Absurdly, he glanced at his mother’s letter again.
“Are you sure you aren’t pregnant?” he said, because he was an idiot. “I hear that causes bouts of emotion.”
She snapped her head back toward him, her eyes little glittering slits. “What did you just say?”
He pressed his lips together, knowing he had stepped in it. “Something stupid,” he confessed. “I don’t like silence.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing short of an aborted little stutter of breath came out, like her voice refused to even humor what he’d said with an audible note. She shook her head, reaching up to rub the space between her eyebrows, and looked down at the floor like it might have answers.
It took him a moment to notice that her shoulders were shaking.
He almost didn’t believe it, because she wasn’t making a sound.
