While his mama looked like a glamorous society matron in her blue-and-silver shot silk gown, nothing got past her. She’d always had a sixth sense when it came to her children. Her Achilles’ heel was her soft heart, which his siblings—Owen especially—hadn’t been above manipulating when they were caught in some mischief. However, even at a young age, James had understood that the heir must take responsibility for his actions. He loved and trusted his parents, yet he preferred to keep his own counsel.
“It is nothing to concern yourself over,” he said smoothly. “Shall we join Ethan and Owen by the buffet table?”
“After.”
“After what?”
“After you tell me what caused the row you are having with your wife.”
“We are not having a row,” he said curtly.
That was too paltry a term for their impasse. At the same time, he didn’t know what he and Evie were having. Was there a name for lusty coupling combined with fluctuating emotional distance? A crisis, perhaps…but even that didn’t necessarily apply. He knew plenty of couples who would be satisfied with such a scenario. One that would make the begetting of an heir a pleasant exercise, and after that duty was done, allow each partner to go his or her own way.
Why am I not satisfied? Why must I want more?
“Well, something has upset you. You can confide in me, you know.”
“I’m fine.”
“How like your papa you are.” Mama’s expression was both affectionate and exasperated. “When it comes to discussing emotions, the two of you are peas in a pod.”
“There is nothing to discuss?—”
“Then why are you moping instead of dancing with your wife? Why has she been avoiding you?”
He stiffened. “I do not mope. And it is not fashionable to live in each other’s pockets?—”
“Since when have you cared about fashion? James, tell me what is bothering you.”
His mama’s heartfelt plea undid him.
“I may have made a mistake.” The admission tightened his chest. “I misjudged a situation. I thought one thing to be true, and now I realize that it isn’t. Or maybe it is…but I don’t know how to ascertain that either. By Jove, I’m not explaining this well, am I?”
“You’re doing fine, dearest. The situation you misjudged. Do you wish it to be true?”
Yes, I want my wife to love me. But I am not sure she does. She is holding back—and I don’t know why.
He gave a terse nod.
“Then make it so.”
“If it were only that easy.” Looking down at his hands, he saw that they were clenched. “I am not certain that I can fix this.”
“Then don’t try.”
He drew his brows together. “You told me to bring about the outcome I wished for.”
“To do so, you must abandon the notion of single-handedly fixing the problem. Marriage isn’t meant to be one person’s labor. You and Evie must work together.”
“I don’t know if she shares my view on the matter.”
“Have you discussed it with her?”
“Not precisely,” he admitted. “I wanted to be sure of a solution before I broached the topic.”
I wanted to be sure of her before I spilled my heart.
“You do take after Papa.” Mama sighed. “Honorable men who hold the world on their shoulders. Even as a child, you would try to mend what was not yours to mend. While your sense of responsibility is admirable and has allowed you to accomplish great things, you must also learn to share the burden. To acknowledge your own vulnerability. Otherwise, despite your strength, you risk crumbling under the weight of all you carry.”
