“I’m not entirely sure this little one quite counts as a person yet,” she said, lacing her fingers with his and leaning back into him. That was another thing no one had warned her about pregnancy: that her back would ache all the time. “But I think we’re good. The table looks nice.”
Maxwell kissed her neck. “The sculpture looks especially charming.”
The sculpture was of a kneeling man—she had fashioned him as Greek, but his spectacles gave him away—holding the hand of a shy lady, who gazed down at him with an expression of open adoration. Thalia had spent weeks on it as soon as she saw where this was going, leaving it until the last minute to fashion the man’s face.
All this was done in her new art studio in the house. She had sacrificed a parlor for the endeavor and did not miss the loss at all.
“Do you think they’ll like it?”
“I think they will love it.” He drew her further into his body, letting her melt against him. “You should stop doing so much, Thal. You’re taking on too much.”
“And you are worrying too much.”
“I know you’re tired.”
“Everyone gets tired sometimes,” she said firmly. “I know when to stop, Max. I’m not going to harm myself.”
“Or Peanut.”
“Or Peanut,” she said, biting back a laugh.
Peanut was the name they had given to their so-far unnamed child, a term of endearment that had begun as a joke and now had become its unofficial name.
“I promise I will do nothing that will harm Peanut.” She turned in his arms, leaning up to kiss his lips. “If you had your way, you would have me locked in my room on bed rest,” she teased, “and I would have ripped the entire house apart searching for an escape.”
He stroked her hair back from her face. “And that is the only reason I have not done so.”
“You worry like an old woman.”
“I worry the correct amount. It’s you who doesn’t worry enough.”
“Women have been birthing children for millennia.”
“And things have been going wrong all that time, too.” His hands locked around her back, holding her against him.
His eyes, often hard and stern, softened with genuine concern. She knew he worried out of love rather than possessiveness, so she put a hand on his cheek, swiping her thumb across his skin.
“When I am uncomfortable and feel as though I can no longer do things, I will retire from the world, and I will let you tuck me up in a bed somewhere. Then, I will make do with books to entertain me. But Lydia needs both of us, and I want to be there for her to celebrate them. Once they marry, we can retire to the country.”
He nodded slowly and bent to kiss her lips.
If they had been somewhere else, she would have let herself sink into him, drowning in the taste of him, but they were not anywhere else, and all too soon, there was a commotion in the hallway.
Thalia broke back. “I think Joyce has arrived.”
Maxwell’s eyes were dark. When she had suggested that Joyce could join them for this dinner, he had not objected, but sheknew he didn’t like it. He held a grudge, and a grudge against her, she knew, he would have held until the end of time.
But mistakes or not, Lydia still loved her mother. And Joyce had a right to meet the man Lydia intended to marry, even if she could have no influence over whether the match happened or not.
She stood in the middle of the hallway, looking as though the house was now too large for her. Thalia remembered when she had first arrived, and Joyce had felt like a cold part of it; now she seemed like an intruder in their space.
“Joyce,” Thalia said, holding out a hand as she forced herself to smile. “How are you?”
Lady Rivenhall glanced from Thalia’s face to behind her, where Maxwell no doubt loomed, but after a moment, she forced her own smile and accepted Thalia’s hand. “I’m well, thank you.” She hesitated, as though unsure whether she ought to say anything else. “I understand I have you to thank for the invitation. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Of course,” Thalia said. “I knew Lydia would want to see you. She will be delighted to know you have arrived.”
Joyce swallowed. Her gaze darted between Thalia and Maxwell. “I also have some apologies to make. I know the way I behaved was not as it should have been and may have had some undue effects. I never wanted…”
