It seemed that she and Walter were more alike than she had suspected, for she had learned to respect Henry, and she had learned that she loved him. The problem was, she did not know if things might have been easier if she had not learned how.
“This teasing is new, though,” she remarked, desperate to lighten the mood. “If he tickles me again, I shall not be held responsible for elbowing him in the stomach. My limbs do as they please when I am tickled. And he is so annoyingly unflappable that I do not know how to tease him in return!”
Walter grinned. “Fortunately, you have come to the right man. No one knows how to tease Henry better than I do.” He stretched out his hands and pretended to crack his knuckles. “There is one thing that has been guaranteed to infuriate him since childhood.”
“Tell me,” Thalia urged, hesitating before she added, “Although, nothing too mean. I want mild revenge for the tickling, not a fight.”
Walter took Thalia’s hand again, patting it lightly. “I think we shall get along wonderfully, you and I.” He lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Now, listen closely: Henry has always hated anything that is not in order. He hates it when someone ruffles his hair, when someone points out that his cravat is crooked, and, most of all, heloathesit when someone calls him ‘Henners.’”
Just then, Henry reappeared, holding three ornate glasses of vibrantly colored shaved ice in his hands… wearing a look so sweet, so endearing, so excited that she did not have the heart to tease him.
Walter waited, as if expecting her to go ahead with her mild revenge, but when she took her glass of fruit ice and said nothing but ‘thank you,’ a softness fell across the younger brother’s face. As if she had passed some test she had not known she was part of.
“I think we should have fun this afternoon,” she said.
Walter nodded, spooning purple-colored ice into his mouth. “I could not agree more.”
“Nor could I,” Henry said, as his hand rested on the small of Thalia’s back for a moment, as if to let her know that he was not going anywhere.
But you will,her heart keened.Soon, you will.
CHAPTER 28
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Thalia asked, as the carriage trundled along the country roads, now steeped in shadow and moonlight.
Henry, seated on the opposite squabs, blinked as if he had been dozing off. “I did, as it happens.” He rubbed his eyes. “I cannot believe that my cousins did not greet us, though. It is poor form to host a party and not speak to all of your guests.”
“And how would you know that?” Thalia teased. “You have never hosted a party.”
“Nevertheless, I know the etiquette,” he replied, as he rested his head back against the carriage wall. “I was often informed of your famed parties. I imagine I would have been in the way if I had been there to host with you.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. You would have been welcome.”
“No, Thalia, I would not,” he said sleepily. “You had a full life without me.”
She heard the silent part of what he meant in her head, And you will have a full life again, without me. He had not seen her diary. He did not know of all the lonely moments, the lost moments, the empty moments where she had felt she was barely living at all.
“I liked Walter,” she said, her throat thick with emotion.
Henry’s eyes had closed, his head turned to the side. “Hmm?”
“I wish Walter had come back with us,” she continued, half-tempted to smack him in the leg so he would wake up properly.
“Best not,” Henry murmured. “Might hurt you again.”
Thalia sighed and turned her gaze out of the window, even if there was nothing but vague shapes to be seen. “No, Henry, I do not think he would. I do not think it was him at all.”
In truth, she was beginning to wonder if they would ever find out who was responsible. And she cursed herself for not being able to remember the one evening that mattered, that could resolve all of this.
For the sooner the mystery was solved, the sooner she would know if she still had a husband, or if she was destined once more to live a life of solitude, married to a stranger.
“Your Grace, there’s a carriage coming up to the house,” Mrs. Fisher said with a start, jumping up from the embroidery she had been helping Thalia with.
“It is likely Henry’s friends,” Thalia said. “They said they would visit again soon.”
She had not slept much the night before, tossing and turning with maddening dreams of her husband. He had been so… odd yesterday, reminding her of the man who had carried her into the lake and held her so tightly. A playful man, the kind she might like to spend a lifetime with.
And that was a problem. She had sworn she would not raise her hopes, but it was so difficult not to feel the possibility of a wish fulfilled when he was paying such attention to her. Teasing her. Touching her. Making her feel all giddy and confused.
