“It’s lovely for all of us to be together again,” Emma said, beaming.
It was five days later, and the Kent clan had come together to celebrate Thea’s upcoming nuptials. Everyone was present: Marianne and Ambrose with their children, Rosie and Edward, all of the Kent sisters, and even their younger brother Harry. They occupied an entire corner of Gunter’s Tea Shop in Berkeley Square, the waiters pulling together three tables to fit them all.
Being with her family was a balm to Thea’s spirits and just what she needed. Since her and Gabriel’s argument over Sylvia, things between them had remained at a cool impasse. Gabriel seemed to have retreated further behind invisible walls, beyond her reach. Frustration and despair simmered inside her, but she didn’t know what to do about it.
“Penny for your thoughts, sis.”
Tucking away her ruminations, she managed to smile at Harry, who’d returned yesterday from Cambridge. He’d become a grown man, she saw with sisterly affection, and a handsome one at that. His rawboned frame had filled out, his height now balanced with sleek muscle. With his dark curling hair and spectacles, he had a scholar’s earnest charm; combined with his athletic physique, he was sure to attract the attention of young ladies everywhere.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Harry,” Thea said tremulously. “I’ve missed you.”
“I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world,” he said.
“You’ve grown, lad,” Ambrose remarked. “Added at least another two stone since we’ve seen you last. I presume you’re not holed up in the laboratory the entire time?”
“In between blowing things up or setting them on fire, the fellows and I find time to get in the ring,” Harry said with a raffish grin.
“I bet I could still take you in a race,” Violet said from beside him.
Harry and Vi had always been close, their bond taking the form of spirited sibling rivalry.
“You’re a lady now, Vi. I don’t race ladies. After all,” Harry said, “where would the sport be in beating a female? Not gentlemanly by far.”
Thea wasn’t fooled by his bland tone. He was deliberately baiting Vi… who, of course, fell for it with her usual aplomb.
“You couldn’t beat me with a stick.” Her caramel-colored eyes narrowed. “The day I can’t outrun, outclimb, or outride you, I’ll… I’ll eat my corset.”
“Careful not to choke on the bones,” Harry said.
“Let’s do it then. Right now. Out in the square, we’ll—”
“Before you challenge our brother to games worthy of the ancient Greeks,” Emma put in, “perhaps you’d care to recall that we’re here to celebrate Thea’s upcoming marriage? Bloodshed is no way to mark the occasion.”
“Actually,” Polly said, her aquamarine eyes serious, “I’ve read that certain ancient tribes performed blood sacrifices as part of the wedding ritual. It’s supposed to guarantee fertility.”
Thea’s cheeks heated. “Goodness, Polly, where did you read that?”
“In one of Papa’s books on the history of civilization,” her youngest sister said.
“It’s best not to volunteer such information in polite company, dear,” Em said.
Polly bit her lip. “People will think I’m peculiar, won’t they?”
Back in Chudleigh Crest, Polly had had a reputation for being different due to a certain acuity she possessed that went beyond her tender years. Knowing how much her shy sister feared being an outcast, Thea said gently, “I wouldn’t say peculiar exactly. But people might be taken aback by your unusual fount of knowledge.”
“Pish posh to what others think.” This came from Rosie, who patted Polly’s hand. “I, for one, would much rather be an Original than some milk-fed debutante.”
“That bodes well for your come out,” her mama said dryly.
The waiter arrived with plates of Gunter’s famous confectionaries. The family exclaimed over the luscious treats: small cakes iced with marzipan and fresh cream, jellied fruits, and cookies decorated with violets made of sugar. This was accompanied by strong, steaming tea, and they all dug in with customary gusto.
As Thea nibbled on a bit of cake soaked in elderflower syrup, she reflected on how things had changed. There was a time when the family could scarcely afford bread and cheese never mind a luxury such as Gunter’s. The ritual of eating and talking together, however, felt exactly the same. She experienced a sudden, bittersweet pang; soon she’d not be a Kent in name any longer.
Morosely, she wondered if she and Gabriel would ever achieve this level of ease and comfort with one another. The distance between them was ever widening, and, since their argument, he’d made no physical advances upon her. She, already feeling at a disadvantage in the relationship, wasn’t about to make any on him. She now realized how much she’d come to depend upon their lovemaking to feel the connection between them.
“Things are coming along nicely with the wedding plans,” Marianne commented.
If only the same could be said of the relationship between the bride and groom.
