Although Clio thought, as she glanced around the circle, theywerea rather scandalous bunch. Helen had been married by special license after being caught kissing her now-husband at a ball. Ariadne and Persephone Blackwood were practically walking scandals, between Ariadne’s parties and Persephone’s husband’s past as a gaming hell owner. And Phoebe was offended whenever someone thought hernotscandalous.
So maybe thiswasa normal marriage for the Lightholders.
It was a strangely comforting idea.
But that comfort couldn’t quite last; for all that Clio enjoyed her relations, they all had their own lives, husbands, and children to attend to. And Clio had to acclimate herself to the fact that she now lived here. In a new place. With a new name.
And a new husband.
Hector found the Lightholders to be … extravagant. Nice, he supposed, though talking to Ezra Swifton, who was a cousin,made him wistful for a conversation with a farmer or something. About cows. Or crops. Something peaceful.
He paused. Was Ezra a cousin? Hector was fairly certain he was; it was wall-to-wall cousins in this place…
Where was Jonathan when he needed him? It was impossible to keep all these bloody people straight.
The women clearly flocked around Clio in support, however, and he could not feel anything other than approval for that. Especially when he glimpsed, once or twice, her full, real smile.
But the very best part of the Lightholders, in Hector’s opinion, was that theywent homeafter the wedding breakfast.
If only he could say the same for his own relatives, who hadn’t even come down to join the party.
Hector couldn’t be too upset about Matthew and his wife making themselves scarce, however, since the only person he really wanted to spend any time with was his wife.
Hiswife.
They retreated to their respective rooms to change from their wedding finery, and Hector found himself utterly tortured by the sound of Clio moving around with no more than a single wall between them.
How was he meant to stay away from her? How was he supposed to keep his promise?
Except, as it turned out, he didn’t—at least not for tonight. Because when he exited his bedchamber to find that she was coming from hers at the same time, the words left his mouth before he could think about them.
“Have dinner with me, Clio.”
She blinked, and this time, she wastherebehind that blink, and seeing her—the real her—instead of that blank expression was such a relief that even Hector’s good leg threatened to buckle beneath him.
“I … thought you planned to keep your distance,” she said. He couldn’t quite read her tone, to his endless regret.
His chuckle lacked any true humor.
“I would like to pretend that I possess the strength to resist you, princess,” he said. “But when you’re right here, in my own house? Please. Join me for a meal. Just a meal.”
She paused in careful assessment before nodding.
“Yes,” she said, and though she didn’t sound all that enthusiastic about it, this was some of the best news that he’d received in ages. “Let’s dine together.”
She even took his arm when he offered it and let him escort her down to the stairs.
That was the sole victory he was granted.
They made it all the way through the first course in utter silence before Hector couldn’t take it any longer, which was a first for him. He generally found silence preferable to aimless chatter, but this was Clio, and nothing she said was unimportant, at least not to him.
“Clio,” he said, striving for joviality—something else that did not come naturally to him. “Come along now. Can we please talk? This marriage cannot have both of us brooding, and that is my role, don’t you think?”
This went overexceedinglypoorly.
The light went directly out of her eyes.
“Oh, right,” she said, the only emotion in her words a faint trace of bitterness. “Your job is to lead, right? You do what you want—act as you wish, and I am to stand around behind you and look pretty?”
