Just not grateful for his abysmal treatment of her.
“Blast it, woman, I didn’t have the time to tell them.”
She stared at him, wondering how a man so intelligent could also be so thick-witted. “You didn’t have time, during the course of several months?”
He shifted in his seat, guilt edging into his countenance. “I wasn’t yet ready to tell them.”
It would make their impending introduction terribly awkward.
“Ah. I see.” She summoned a bravado she didn’t feel. “Then I suppose we must proceed.”
“I’ll smooth the waters,” he said. “You need not fret.”
But his words of assurance had the opposite effect. Of course she worried. What would his mother and sister think of her? Of the unusual circumstances that had preceded their arrival? Would they not think it strange that Riverdale had been married for over three months before bringing his wife to meet them? After all, it wasn’t as if Sybil had been on a prolonged journey. She had been but a few hours from London.
The door to the carriage opened, and Sybil descended, accepting the aid of a footman as she alighted. Riverdale’s town house loomed before her, commanding and larger than she had thought it would be. How strange to think this impressive edifice would be home to her when she was in London.
The air possessed a dampness accompanied by a slight chill. She pulled her wrap more firmly around herself as she swept along the pavements toward where the carriage containing her mother had stopped, not bothering to wait for her husband’s accompaniment. It mattered not, for he was there at her side in an instant, impassively taking her gloved hand and placing it in the waiting crook of his elbow.
Beginning an argument just before she was introduced to the domestics and his mother and sister seemed a terrible idea, particularly given that her mother was accompanying them, so Sybil didn’t retract her hand from his arm as she longed to do. Instead, she glided along at his side, trying to ignore how natural it felt to be here with him.
To be his wife.
She dashed that errant thought at once, for it was decidedly unwise.
Efficient servants bustled forward, aiding Mother in descending from the carriage and settling into her invalid chair.
“Your journey was a restorative one, I trust?” Everett asked solicitously.
“I do believe I slept through most of it,” Mother answered, her smile looking a bit wan.
It had been a great deal of journeying for her in one day. Worry knotted Sybil’s stomach.
Their small procession made its way along the pavements. The door to the town house was opened by a servant, and Riverdale guided them inside. Sybil had a brief impression of a marble entry, some busts, and a handful of paintings framed in gilt that shone in the lamplight.
If any of the attending domestics were startled to see the duke accompanied by Sybil and her mother, they were far too well trained to utter a word or raise a brow. Everyone bustled about as if they had been expected and nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Hockley, where is Her Grace this evening?” Riverdale asked a stern-faced older man who was presumably the butler.
“The duchess is in the drawing room at present, along with Lady Verity. Shall I announce your arrival, Your Grace?”
“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” They handed off their outerwear, and with a nod to the butler, Riverdale led them to a staircase.
It didn’t escape Sybil’s notice that he had not bothered to make an introduction. She would have to learn her way here at the town house, it seemed, just as she had done at Riverdale Abbey.
“Will you be able to navigate the stairs, my lady?” he asked her mother solicitously.
“I dare say so, Your Grace,” Mother answered. “I shall be slow, however.”
“I will aid you,” he offered.
“You needn’t,” her mother protested. “I shall hold the banister.”
“You shall hold the banister and me, and I won’t hear a word of objection,” Riverdale countered, his tone firm but smooth. “I insist.”
Some of the ice in Sybil’s heart where he was concerned melted. She fetched her mother’s golden-handled cane and offered it to her, and with the duke’s help, Mother was on her feet, beginning the slow journey up the grand staircase. He directed a pair of footmen to carry the invalid chair up the stairs ahead of them.
Sybil followed in their wake, feeling rather unneeded as her husband began a pleasant chatter with her mother.
