MARIANNE
Marianne had seen the change in Lucien the second Henry had called her Mama. It was instantaneous. Whatever warmth had graced his countenance had faded away. A hardness settled over his features, and his eyes had seemed to darken, if such a thing were possible.
She felt the chill move in between them, replacing whatever warmth that had existed. But why? What had vexed him so?
She wanted to ask him in that very moment, to confront him, but Henry was right in front of them. She couldn’t.
Instead, she swallowed her dismay.
She turned away from Lucien and focused on Henry. “I am pleased as well,” she said. “Would you like to go inside and take luncheon?”
He nodded and took her hand. Then he turned and also took Lucien’s. But unlike their walk out to the gardens, the ease had gone from it. Lucien didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared ahead, that dark expression once more on his face.
Perhaps it would fade. This was something he had to grow accustomed to. The idea of her as Henry’s mother. She hadn’t thought of herself as such either at first, but of course she knew she would. Perhaps so would he.
Yet by the time they returned to the house, Lucien’s mood appeared to have grown even more grave. He turned to her. “I think it is best if Henry and I take luncheon together. You must be quite fatigued. You should rest.”
He didn’t want her there. That much was clear. She wet her lips and then clenched her jaw. Instead of replying verbally, she simply nodded her head. He wasn’t going to let this go. Things were changing again. Exhaustion spread through her body, and her limbs felt heavy as she withdrew like a chastened creature.
She had done nothing wrong. Neither had Henry. Indeed, this was Lucien’s fault. He had brought her here. He had been unclear about how he saw their life together. Of course, the boy would form an attachment to her if she were going to be dwelling permanently in his life. It would’ve been better if Lucien had simply installed her in one of the estate cottages for a few months. But no, he wanted her to be kind to Henry, to establish a rapport with the boy.
And now that she had, now that they were close, it wasn’t right either.
The man was a study in contradictions.
She went up to her chambers and entered the space, the door banging shut behind her.
“What has occurred?” Juliet asked immediately, appearing as if by magic.
“Nothing has happened.”
“Do not take me for a fool,” Juliet said, rushing over to her. She had been busy making the bed, but now her attention was entirely on Marianne. “Your eyes are awash with tears. You are about to dissolve into misery. I know you well.”
“I am not,” Marianne replied, although her chin already wobbled.
“Come now,” Juliet said, wrapping her arms around her. “What has he done?”
“How do you know he did anything?” Marianne asked. Those tears were now coursing down her cheeks, and her shoulders trembled as she wept.
“Sit,” Juliet said and escorted Marianne to the chairs in front of the fire. The fireplace was not exactly blazing, but the fire that Juliet had made in the morning was still burning. The warmth was pleasant, but not overpowering, and provided a little comfort.
“We went to the maze together, and it was lovely, and I had a wonderful day. He kissed me. We lay together—arm in arm.”
“You consummated your marriage?” Juliet gasped.
“No, no,” Marianne said quickly. “We both fell asleep in Henry’s chamber whilst he was unwell, and he crawled out of bed in the morning to play with his toys. Lucien and I kissed, and then we kissed again in the maze, and it felt as though everything was as I privately hoped it would be. But then?—”
“Then?” Juliet said, her tone sharp.
“Yes,then. Henry referred to me as Mama, and Lucien changed before my very eyes. I could tell he was uncomfortable.”
“I see,” Juliet said tersely. “And then what?”
“And then nothing,” Marianne replied, shrugging. “He grew cold again as he does. And then when I wanted to take luncheon with Henry, he dismissed me to my chambers like an errant girl. And here I am weeping upon your shoulder.”
Juliet sat up and wrung her hands, holding them in her lap.
“How long will you permit him to use you thus?”
