There was a truth to his words that I felt in my bones. Hugh had two methods of managing circumstances that made him uncomfortable. Kate had encouraged him to face those situations head-on with generous assumptions. But Hugh’s natural inclination, born of years in our mother’s company, was suspicion and avoidance.
“Michael tried to explain it. Well, Rosehill made the first attempt, then Michael.
“You spoke with Michael about this?”
“At first, I spoke with him hypothetically. When it became clear that we were both trying and failing to discuss you without actually discussing you, we dropped the pretense.”
“Lovely, I’m ever so glad I was able to provide entertainment.”
“Tom,” he sighed. “You know that is not what I meant. And besides, you were gone to the wind—I haven’t seen you in days. When, and how, was I meant to gather my answers?”
I hadn’t the slightest notion of what to say to that. I took a heavy sip of my drink instead, buying time.
Hugh took the bait and continued, “I used to believe I knew nearly everything, and everything I didn’t know could be readily discerned using my impeccable judgment. But I’ve learned I know almost nothing. And regardless, Michael has accidentally become the person I go to with such questions.”
“Often have questions about such things?”
“More often of late—but he proved to be quite the artist when I had questions about pleasing Kate.”
“Artist?”
“He drew me a diagram—there were instructions. It was… illuminating.”
“May I see it?”
“Do you suppose you’ll have need of a diagram with instructions on how to please a woman—a wife?”
“No, but I still think it would be amusing.”
“You think everything is amusing.”
“And I’m usually right.”
“You are,” he agreed quietly. “So, Rosehill?”
“What about him? He seduced me, remember?” My tone had shifted, the memory sparking something petulant and unkind.
“Oh yes, you were well and truly seduced by the time I happened upon you.”
An irritated huff of laughter escaped.
“Will you tell me about it? What you feel? How it happened?”
A second laugh escaped, still under my breath and restrained, but genuine. “We met at your wedding.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Mother introduced us, in point of fact.”
“I… do not…”
“I believe she intended for me to wed Lady Davina, in truth. Make amends for your failure to secure a suitable wife.” That comment earned me a growl in spite of the jest in my voice. “I looked at him and suddenly… everything made sense. The world that never seemed quite right, always a little chaotic, a little unwieldy, was ordered and tidy and everything that I was told you’re supposed to feel when faced with a beautiful lady—I felt it the second I looked at him. The butterflies, the heart palpitations, damp palms—all of it.”
“And you’ve never felt that? For a young lady, I mean.”
“No. There are beautiful ladies, but it’s an abstract beauty.”
“And Rosehill felt the same?”
