She twisted her neck at the last second, my lips landing on the top of her head. With a scowl, she lowered her lashes. Ten days had passed since our anniversary. I had high hopes things would continue to spark between us, but instead, they seemed to fizzle. Her cool reception to my kiss of affection was out of character, which only cemented my suspicion that something wasn’t quite right with her.
“Rex, you startled me.” She tucked the letter into the folds of her skirts, clearly flummoxed. A blush stole up her cheeks, and she avoided looking directly at me.
My stomach sank, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because Eleanor wasn’t easily flustered, which meant whatever was in that letter had disturbed her. “Somethingisamiss.”
“Amiss? No, nothing is amiss,” she said, the flush deepening. “I, you, well, you startled me.”
“Apparently so.” I took my customary seat, glancing down at the crisply ironed pages of the newspaper awaiting my perusal. The only news I was interested in was my wife’s welfare. Usually the only time she was nervy had been around her family. The Marquis had passed away, relieving a huge burden from her shoulders. Perhaps something was wrong with her brother. “Did you receive bad news from Phineas?”
“No, no Phineas is fine.” Trilling a high-pitched laugh that was totally unlike her, she picked up her cup and sipped from the porcelain. The shake to her hand was more pronounced.
My alarm climbed higher, and I tried to tamp it down. Chances were I was overreacting. When we first married we shared everything with each other. Today proved that was no longer the case and it pained me to admit how much we had grown apart. “The letter you were reading. Was it bad news?”
“No, it wasn’t bad news. Rather good news.” She lifted a scone from the plate in the middle of the table and cut it with a butter knife.
I waited for her to expound. She remained mute, still not looking directly at me. “Would you like to share? After last night, I could use some good news.” I had been working with the Russian ambassador on a rather delicate negotiation. I had thought we were close to an agreement until last night when he had voiced his reservations over the entire deal. After a month of negotiation, we were back to the beginning.
Her hand stilled, and she visibly swallowed. “You worked rather late.” She worried her lip, a sure sign she was nervous. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were sleeping soundly, and I didn’t wish to disturb you.” There was a time when she would have waited up to talk about our days. Harry required much of her time, as did Anne and Atticus. With Anne coming out this year, Eleanor was exhausted, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her. I tapped my thumb on the table, hurt that she was shutting me out. She usually shared everything with me. “You said the letter brought good news.”
“It is merely an invitation for, um, for a musical event I wish to attend on Thursday.”
It looked rather long for an invitation, more like a letter. Short of asking to see it, I couldn’t say for sure nor was I certain why I was obsessing over the letter. She obviously didn’t wish to share the contents and I had to respect her privacy.
“Thursday is my day at home. Perhaps I can attend with you.” I had been neglecting her of late because of my duties to the crown. It would be nice for us to have an outing, just the two of us.
“I am sorry. It will be a ladies’ guild function at the Stratham, thus only ladies will be allowed. Except for the wait staff, of course, who are men. They employed a new waiter. His name is Guy, and he is French.” Eleanor placed her hands in her lap. She still had the mysterious letter and from the sounds of it, she was refolding it. The blush continued to give away her discomfort.
“Guy.” I compressed my jaw at the sound of the name. Eleanor talked in her sleep, and she had uttered the waiter’s name several times that week. I never put much store in the gibberish. This was something new and my alarm continued to grow.
“Well, I suppose it is pronounced Gee, where we say Guy. I think the French pronunciation is much more interesting.” Shrugging, she lifted the scone to her lips with a shaking hand.
“You seem very captivated with this Guy fellow.” I wasn’t the jealous sort on most occasions, yet her admiration for the man pricked my temper. She was a desirable woman, and the upstart had best not overstep his bounds with my wife.
“I simply happen to like his name. Nothing more sinister. Of course, Guy Fawkes Day is every year—remember, remember, the fifth of November...” She released a nervous laugh. “I never really considered his name until I met the French waiter named Guy.”
“You speak about him with much familiarity. How many times has he attended you at the Stratham?” I was drilling her and unable to stop. She was acting very deceptively, and it frightened me to think she might be interested in another man.
She frowned at my inquiry and pressed her lips together before shifting in her seat. “He has waited on me once. Needless to say, I will be occupied with ladies’ guild business Thursday.”
“I see.” I fiddled with the edge of the newspaper, trying to tamp down my unease. This was the first I had heard about the ladies’ guild as well. “What exactly is the business of the ladies’ guild?”
Her lashes lifted, panic lit her eyes before she lowered them. “Ladies things.”
“I assumed that from the name.” Like a dog with a bone, I was resolute to gain some answers. Eleanor had never been a very good liar.
A tense silence rested between us until she met my direct gaze with one of her own. “It is a charitable organization, of course. We donate money to various worthy causes, like scholarships to the Kensington Music Conservatory, for instance.”
Music was a considerable part of Eleanor’s life, and I loved listening to her play.
“It sounds like a very worthy cause.” My suspicions lessened at her answer, and I stirred milk into my coffee. She had been involved in philanthropic endeavors throughout the years. Many ladies of her station supported a whole host of charities. Since Eleanor was passionate about music, it seemed fitting that she championed the conservatory.
She paled and tilted her head, studying my face for a long moment. “Then you approve of me supporting the conservatory?”
I had never put any restrictions on her spending. She tended to be frugal, regardless. Thus, her defensiveness added to my apprehension. “Of course. Helping others learn their craft is a noble endeavor.”
“Yes, of course. Of course.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door as Anne rushed in.
