“However, despite what she says to the contrary, Iknowshe would be heartened if you would visit her sometimes. The Frances you see often is not the same Frances who exists at Weverton,” he said sadly, ushering her through into the ballroom.
Thalia paused, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“She becomes so gloomy at Weverton,” James admitted. “It is harder to escape oneself when one only has one’s company, I suppose. She does not get along with my wife, unfortunately, and my son is most often with his governess. But you would undoubtedly bring some vitality to the manor if you were to call upon her now and then.”
With a hand to her heart, Thalia gave a slow nod of agreement. She had suspected that no one could be quite so cheery and optimistic after suffering such heartache and cruelty, and felt rather guilty that she clearly had not done more for her friend.
“I shall be better with sharing the effort,” she promised, wishing she could rememberwhyshe had not visited more often.
The house cannot be in such a terrible state, can it? Maybe, it isbecausethat is where Frances is gloomy. She does not want me to see her that way.
James sighed, as if relieved. “You are a good friend to her, Duchess. I do not know what she would do without you.” He smiled. “Now, let us dance.”
Taking an anxious breath, Thalia nodded. “Yes, I suppose we should.”
She had only made it a few steps toward the dance floor when a figure stepped out in front of her, his towering height casting a shadow that brought her shy gaze upward.
“Where are you going?” Henry asked, a frown forming a line between his eyebrows.
James gestured toward the dancers, the music fading to a conclusion. “We were about to dance, Cousin.”
“No,” Henry replied sternly, as he reached for Thalia’s hand, taking it from where it rested upon James’. “No one dances with my wife before I have.”
The other man took a step away, his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. “I would not dream of stealing the privilege from you, Cousin. I did not realize you cared to dance, but it seems much has changed.” He bowed his head to Thalia. “My apologies.”
A moment later, James wandered off, leaving Thalia and Henry alone on the periphery of the dance floor. In truth, Thalia had not known that her husband cared to dance either; not because she could not remember anything, but because they had, apparently, been leading separate lives. It seemed unlikely that they hadeverdanced before.
“The next set will begin soon,” Henry said stiffly. “We should get in position.”
Thalia took a steadying breath. “Yes, I suppose we should.”
She followed the light pull of his hand onto the floor, where they found their places among the other, far more eager dancers.
Swallowing past the nervous lump in her throat, she forced herself to look directly into her husband’s eyes as he stood opposite, determined to hold his gaze though every instinct urged her to look away. There was something about the intimacy of gazing into his eyes that made her feel unmoored, as troubling as the way her heart raced whenever he was too close.
I must have a journal somewhere. I must have written about him.Someonemust know how I felt about him.She had searched Holdridge high and low for some hint of who she was before, some encyclopedia of herself, but had found nothing. As if all trace of the Duchess had been removed, yet Mrs. Fisher and Rowena had both insisted that none of her things had been touched.
Just then, the music began afresh, and Thalia stepped gracefully toward her husband.
“Did you tell that Mr. Baxter to do something with my belongings?” she asked abruptly, raising her palm to Henry’s.
He raised an eyebrow. “What? Certainly not.”
“Then why can I find no correspondence, no letters, no nothing?”
“I do not know. I have no notion of where you kept your correspondence.”
They turned in three lively circles, before switching palms to turn in the opposite direction. Even through her gloves, Thalia could feel the warmth of his hand, fighting the sudden, bewildering impulse to slide her fingers between his.
“I did not realize it was common to interrogate during a dance,” Henry added, something like wry humor in his expression.
Thalia scoffed. “Then, you must not have attended any balls at all. A dance is theveryplace to interrogate. Indeed, what is the Season for unmarried ladies and gentlemen but one lengthy interrogation?” She shuddered at the memory of her debut. “You find out what someone likes, what they dislike, if they enjoy the theater, if they favor the opera, if they prefer music or poetry, or both… and so on.”
“I never partook,” Henry replied simply, gaining a glare from her.
“No, I suppose you did not, seeing as our marriage is what it is. An arranged thing. Aconvenientthing.” She paused as they swept away from each other, hopped in their respective places, then came back together. “This must be our first dance ever, is it not?”
Henry nodded. “It is.”
