Her face softened. “I understand. But can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“What happens if you don’t die? What happens then?”
Christian rubbed a hand through his hair and began tapping his foot again without her hand to still it. He’d not had much sleep the night before and neither had she. “We’ll worry about that in fifty years or so,” he growled at her.
And she didn’t really deserve it. The worst part of this entire morning was realizing that he’d fooled himself into thinking he could be happy in his last days. A seductive lie.
He opened the window between the driver’s box and the interior. “You may return to Master’s House now,” he shouted to the driver.
When he sat back, he felt her unhappiness as well. He supposed that was what happened when people tried to fool themselves.
They all became much wiser.
Chapter 12
I’m sorry…
Christian excused himself at the door to Master’s House and then disappeared, failing to return even for the evening meal.
Lillian understood. Their miscommunication changed everything. But it also changed nothing.
He needed time.
Sheneeded time.
Could they get past this? Deciding to go forward hoping for the best, she took advantage of the remainder of the day to meet with and ask questions of Mrs. Drysdale, the housekeeper, Mrs. Boyd, the cook, and then introduce herself to all of the other servants. Although the town house was not as large as most country estates, it required a good deal of work to keep everything functioning efficiently. The servants had gone a long time without a mistress so Lillian stepped lightly.
And since her husband had yet to return, she dined alone with his sister, making up an excuse for Christian’s absence but feeling humiliated that he’d leave her to dine alone with his sister without letting her know. She didn’t expect to live in his pocket but after all they’d shared, his easy dismissal hurt.
Conversation with Bernadette had been stilted at first, but by the end of the meal, Lillian was pleased in that they’d taken a small step towards friendship.
She smiled and listened to her new sister-in-law despite feeling exhausted and worried and heart sick. Bernadette’s gaze would periodically shift to the head of the table, as did Lillian’s. His lack of presence was felt acutely.
His sister must have had a multitude of questions for her about the sudden wedding, but it seemed that the two of them, for now anyway, would avoid the giant elephant in the room.
They discussed the weather, and then moved on to fashion. They shared a few small things in common. Neither of them liked onions, it seemed, and both of them enjoyed riding.
Once back in her chamber, as Becky brushed and braided her hair, Lillian wondered if all her efforts would be for naught. Would he seek an annulment after all? Her eyes flicked to the window each time a horse or carriage rode by, but none of them carried her husband home.
Her husband.
Would he remain such?
Her home.
She felt misplaced as she crawled into her bed alone. The night before, they’d shared the bed in his chamber, and as had become usual, neither had done much sleeping.
Was she fooling herself? She couldn’t help wondering where he had been all day. She’d never asked him if he had a mistress. She’d assumed he did not, but as the minutes turned into hours, she grew sad and then angry before finally drifting into a troubled and broken sleep. She awoke every time she thought she heard sounds coming from the neighboring suite and so was not taken by surprise when she finally heard the door quietly swing open.
Relieved but unwilling to show it, she refused to open her eyes. She would feign sleep.
He’d come to her from God only knew where after being gone for most of the day. Tears squeezed from beneath her lashes, but she choked back the sob that wanted to escape. Alarm bells ought to have sounded long before this.
She was angry and frustrated and utterly unwilling to make this easy for him.
“Lillian.”
