“I do not?—”
“Do not tell me that you have a migraine again. One more ‘migraine’ and I will have to summon the physician for fear that there is something truly wrong with you.”
“No,” she said, “but I am a poor rider. I would be a poor example.”
He paused and blinked, but then nodded. “Thank you for the honesty. I appreciate it. I do not wish for you to feel as though you cannot tell me what is on your mind. I shall go riding with him on my own, but then perhaps one of these days I should teach you to ride properly. I have a mind to host a house party with some of the Lords from Parliament. We have an alliance within the House of Lords, and I am sure we would all go riding.”
She recalled her father used to have house parties such as this back before he had squandered most of the fortune and society had turned its back on him.
“I would appreciate it,” she said. He nodded and then passed by. As he did so, a whiff of his sandalwood cologne reached her. She gasped without meaning to. She had always loved sandalwood, and somehow, on him, it smelled better than anything she had ever smelled.
There was a comfort that exuded from him. He was the sort of person who made her want to keep his company more. Even though she knew that was exactly the opposite of what she should want.
He walked away then, and she shook her head, reminding herself that this was all for pretense, and she should not notice things such as how her husband smelled.
CHAPTER 10
LUCIEN
The sound of the fork hitting the porcelain plate sent a shiver through Lucien as he watched his son struggle to pick up peas with his utensil. Normally, he would have helped him. But he had decided that it was time for Marianne to at least try to bond with Henry somewhat. He knew that their marriage would end sooner or later, but they were going to be tied together for several months, and she had to find a way to make a connection with Henry somehow.
She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and looked at him. He felt her eyes burning into the side of his head, but he kept his eyes on his mutton, casually slicing through it with his fork, and then chewing as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Lady Marianne, will you help me?” Henry said.
Marianne placed her fork and knife down and came around the table, sitting down next to Henry.
“Of course,” she said. “Well, let us see.” She started slicing his meat, stared at the pieces, and then sliced them in half again, assessing them as though they were some rather complicated project. Then she decided to cut the pieces once more, even smaller.
He smiled. “I do think he shall be able to manage. He is not a mouse who can only eat morsels.”
“Yes. Of course. I did not want him to?—”
“I have teeth,” Henry said. “I can chew.” Then he attempted to pierce a pea with his fork once more. However, he missed, and the fork scraped across the plate, sending a terrible screech through the dining room. Lucien shuddered, and he saw Marianne do the same. Their eyes met, and they smiled. Then she placed her hand around Henry’s and stabbed the fork into several peas. “There you are,” she said. “That will work.”
He ate a piece, but then threw his fork down. “They taste strange.”
“Well, how do they taste?” Marianne asked.
“Round,” he announced.
Lucien pressed his napkin against his mouth to muffle a chuckle.
“They taste...” Marianne said, stumped now.
“I do not like it. They taste round,” he said. “I do not like round food.”
Lucien motioned with his fork, making a smashing movement, and Marianne understood.
“I see. Well, let us see.” She took the fork from the boy and smashed the peas until they were mush. “There you are. Now they should not taste round anymore.”
Henry took a forkful, ate, and nodded. “Yes, that is better. Thank you.”
Marianne returned to her own seat.
“Thank you,” Lucien said. “He does not like round foods in general. Eggs, apples, cherries—anything has to be cut smaller so that it does not taste round.”
“Is that not going to be a hindrance for him in the future? What if he is invited to court?”
