It is so obvious!So very clear now that I cannot believe I have not thought of it sooner.
The problem with Thalia’s husband wasn’t that she did not know him as well as she wanted to. Rather, it was how emotionally guarded he was. He was so damn careful to keep up his walls and not let his emotions get the better of him that there was no chance he would ever show his true self to Thalia. And thus, there was no chance that she would ever know the real him.
Seeing Lord Donmere now, and how angry he had been, made Thalia realize what she was doing wrong. If she wanted to learn who her husband really was, she needed to see that emotional self-control that he held onto so tightly shatter and break entirely.
What she needed was to see him angry. Or upset. Saddened. Joyous. Anything beyond the cool apathy he so often fixed her with.
How was she going to do it? She had no idea. But based on her interaction with Lord Donmere right now, Thalia had no doubt that she could get it done. She had to.
“Would you like some tea?” Octavia asked suddenly.
“Huh?” Thalia brought herself back into the moment to find Octavia beaming at her.
“Tea?” she asked. “Would you like some tea? I am about to have some myself, and I find tea is always better when drunk with another. Wouldn’t you agree?”
There was something infectious about Octavia’s personality. Something that made Thalia want to spend time with her. And, seeing as she had nobody else to do so with, she couldn’t imagine a reason to say no.
“Tea sounds lovely,” she said. “But only if you promise me one thing.”
“Oh?”
“Tell me about yourself,” Thalia said. “And I will do the same for you.”
Chapter Ten
“Your Grace, is something wrong?” Mr. Mayweather, the Head of Staff, asked him. “Your Grace?”
“What is that?” Caspian pointed at the article of clothing draped across his chair.
“Ah… Your Grace?”
“That?” Caspian crossed his study and snatched at the piece of colorful cloth. Then he held it up and away from his body as if it were a cat that had wandered into his house. “What is this?”
“I believe it a shawl of some kind, Your Grace.”
“And what is it doing in my office?”
“Ah…” The Head of Staff considered the question with a sense that his life depended on it. “I am not sure. An error, perhaps? Maybe one of the maids –”
“They know better than to come in here.”
The Head of Staff winced. “I don’t know what to say, Your Grace.”
Caspian bawled the shawl in his hand and looked past Mr. Mayweather, toward the door, and then beyond as if he could see through the walls.
She is doing it on purpose. I know that she is.
“Take it.” He held the shawl out for Mr. Mayweather to take, which he did do. “And please, return it to my dear wife at once. No doubt, she is worried sick over its whereabouts.”
“At once.” Mr. Mayweather bowed deeply and scurried from the room.
To the ordinary observer, a misplaced shawl might not have seemed like such a big thing. In normal times, it would not have been. But times were not normal, and the ordinary observer could not have possibly realized the significance of what this meant.
More than that, of what it was doing to Caspian.
He found that his pulse was steadily rising and he took a calming breath, determined not to let this get to him. It should not do! Such a small transgression as this should not have fazed him in the least. After all, Caspian made a point of staying cool under duress, and he never let his emotions get the better of him.
Then again, he had never been married before either.
