She looked at her plate for a moment, then looked up. “My mother is dead, too,” she said quietly.
Did she mean to say it was the same thing? The idea angered him. He didn’t like other people comparing their personal tragedies to his.
But then he thought—why shouldn’t she? Itwasthe same. Maybe not in every way, but she had lost her mother just as he had lost his parents, and that loss had gone on to shape her life in drastic ways. Of course, she saw a comparison.
Still, he wasn’t about to use his loss as a way of getting closer to someone. They weren’t going to bond with one another over the fact that they had each lost parents. He didn’t want to share those feelings. Not with anyone.
“New rule,” he said gruffly. “We don’t talk about my family.”
She regarded him. “The list of things we don’t talk about is getting long,” she told him. “And so is the list of rules for a man who told me there would only be three.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he rose from the table. “I’ll be home late,” he told her.
“I never doubted it,” she replied quietly.
CHAPTER 14
Arthur found himself plagued with regrets over the way he’d conducted himself at breakfast. It was a difficult thing, letting someone new into his life, but it was a decision he had made when he had chosen to take her as his wife, and he knew that he should honor that choice. She wasn’t asking for much, after all. She wanted to know more about him as a person. Was that such an unreasonable thing to ask for?
Why did itfeelso unreasonable? Why did it feel as if she was prying into his innermost secrets every time the two of them spent any time together. He didn’t know. He only knew that she seemed to possess some ability to make him feel as if all his defenses were crumbling, and he didn’t enjoy that feeling at all.
He was determined to try to do better at breakfast the following day—though if she came to him with more personal questions, he wasn’t sure how he would handle it—but he was distracted by an unanticipated event late that afternoon—the arrival of his aunt Olivia Desmond, the Marchioness of Notley.
It was only by good fortune that he was at home to greet her. He hurried outside at the sight of her carriage just in time to see her being helped down. “Aunt Olivia—why didn’t you send word that you were coming?” he asked.
“Well, I wanted to surprise you,” she said, offering him a smile. “Did it work?”
“It did. But I might not have been at home, and what then?”
“Then I would have spent my afternoon with your lovely wife, of course. You didn’t think that I came here to seeyou, surely?”
She was smiling, and Arthur knew it was a joke. He laughed. “No, of course not,” he agreed. “What would be the fun in that?”
“So where is she?” Aunt Olivia asked. “I must say, I was disappointed not to be invited to the wedding, but I suppose you had your reasons.”
“We wanted to keep things small,” Arthur said. “And I knew you wouldn’t have made it anyway.”
“I don’t know how you can say such a thing. Would I miss my only nephew’s wedding?”
“Aunt Olivia, I have never doubted your love for me, but we both know that you come and go as the wind takes you,” Arthur said. “Perhaps if we had planned the wedding far enough in advancefor you to include it in your plans, you would have been there, but you weren’t even in London when we married, were you?”
“I was in Paris,” Aunt Olivia admitted. “You would have adored Paris, by the way, Arthur; it’s marvelous. I can’t believe that in all your travels, you’ve never been to France.”
“Perhaps I’ll try to go sometime.”
“Take Isabella with you!” Aunt Olivia enthused. “I’m sure she would like it, and the two of you would benefit from a holiday together. Why, when my Geoffrey was alive, he took me to every city I wanted to see. I still think our travels together were part of the reason our love for one another was so strong. Perhaps you’ll have the same experience if you travel with your wife—perhaps you’ll find that it ties you together in ways you wouldn’t have been able to experience otherwise!”
Aunt Olivia was always so eager, Arthur thought, and so brimming with positivity. It was difficult to imagine explaining to her that he didn’t want to have that sort of relationship with Isabella. She knew how his parents’ deaths had affected him, of course, but she had always made an effort to persuade him that he should focus on healing and let the past go. There was no hope of getting her to see things his way, and he certainly couldn’t try to explain to her that revenge was more important to him than romance.
He led her inside. Isabella was waiting in the foyer. She had obviously noticed someone arriving and had emerged to see what was going on, so Arthur made the introductions.
“Aren’t you darling!” His aunt came forward and embraced Isabella. “I’m so pleased to see my Arthur has found such a lovely bride. I did worry. I raised him myself, you know, so in many ways he feels to me as if he were my own son.”
“No, I didn’t know,” Isabella admitted. “How lucky he was to have you, Lady Notley.”
“No, please, you must call me Olivia. Aunt Olivia if you will. We’re family now.” She embraced Isabella again. “Now, Arthur, have tea brought out for everyone, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Arthur smiled. Having his aunt in the house never failed to cheer him up.
