“He is such a good father,” the housekeeper marveled. “Although I confess I wish he would hire a proper riding instructor. His father had hired somebody. Someone who would train horses for the races.”
“His Grace seems to be doing very well,” Juliet said.
“His lordship,” Marianne corrected. “He is an earl, therefore he is his lordship. Only dukes are your grace.”
“That’s right. Who is it that I should address as such? I know there is someone within the family.”
“His new brothers-in-law, the Duke of Wells and the Duke of Ravenscar.”
“Oh, your sisters’ husbands. I knew there was a duke or two somewhere around in your family tree,” Juliet said with a smile. “Now, how did the riding go?”
“I fell,” Marianne admitted, shaking her head.
“Oh goodness, are you hurt?” Mrs. Greaves asked.
“No, no, nothing as dramatic as that. Lucien was able to rush over and catch me before I fell.”
“I see,” Mrs. Greaves said. “He is quite chivalrous like that,” she added with a smile.
The housekeeper beamed at Marianne, and Marianne was at once aware of what she meant. Was it chivalrous to protect somebody who was falling off a horse, or was it mere courtesy?
“Well, I am going into town to the market,” Mrs. Greaves said. “I simply wished to stop by and see how the riding lessons were going. It seems young master Henry is doing very well.”
“He is. Far better than me,” Marianne admitted.
“Well, you will get better,” Mrs. Greaves replied, before bidding them farewell. Juliet, however, remained at Marianne’s side.
“So he caught you as you fell off the horse. I will say that is most romantic.”
“It was not romantic,” Marianne replied, quite vexed now. “You have already spent too much time with Mrs. Greaves. She also has fanciful notions about Lucien and me that will never come to fruition.”
“Never? Are you quite certain?” said Juliet, raising an eyebrow. He is very handsome and dashing. And there are many an arranged marriage that has turned into something more.”
“And many who have not,” Marianne replied tartly. “My parents were scarcely content. And theirs was an arranged marriage. I am certain my mother would have liked it if she had known that she could be freed from the match at some point.”
“But then you would not be alive.”
“Perhaps not,” she said. “Perhaps I would’ve simply had a different father, a better one. Someone who cared...”
“You have never spoken of your father before. Why the sudden change?”
Marianne sighed. “I dare say these last few days I have been left to think a lot. Seeing Lucien with Henry has made me realize what I lacked as a child. Parental affection, at least from my father. My mother was lovely, but she died when I was young.”
“I imagine if Lucien’s wife had not died, perhaps his connection to the little boy would be different. How did she die, if it’s not impertinent to ask? I do not think you ever mentioned it.”
Marianne looked at her friend and then at Lucien, who was still riding in circles with Henry.
“I do not know. He never told me. In fact, he hardly ever speaks of her at all. I wonder if he doesn’t speak of her because he misses her.”
“Or because he was happy to have them part ways,” Juliet said in a tone that was more plain-spoken than sympathetic.
“‘It is not as if they divorced,” said Marianne thoughtfully. “She died. I imagine it must’ve been very painful for him. Perhaps that is why he does not wish to have a wife again. A true wife, that is—because of the pain that would cause if he loved someone and lost them.”
“Perhaps. You should ask him. When you have a chance, ask him about her, see what he will say, and I will make inquiries of my own,” Juliet offered.
“You do not need to make inquiries on my behalf,” Marianne replied.
“Well, I shall make inquiries on my account then, for I am curious. And if you like, I will share with you my findings.”
