“You ought to throw a ball,” Lydia said, beaming, Lady Rivenhall’s behavior utterly forgotten. “To celebrate your marriage.”
Thalia linked her arm through Lydia’s. “And, of course, to bring all of London’s attention to you.”
“Well,” Lydia said, “I would not object tothatat all.”
“Are you not concerned with how the rumors might affect Lydia?” Joyce demanded Maxwell as he poured himself a drink in the library.
Lydia and Thalia were discussing gowns for the upcoming ball, and he was happy to give the two ladies space to bond. He liked seeing the way they got along; it was better than anything he could have hoped for.
“No,” he said indifferently.
“You were engaged with Thalia, then cancelled your wedding, and now you married her so quickly, with nary a courtship to be seen.” Joyce paced about the room, steps quick. “You trust her with Lydia’s past, but what about the damage that the close association could cause?”
“I doubt it would,” Maxwell said. “Besides, what do rumors matter?”
“Theyoughtto matter plenty.” Finally, Joyce gave in and sat, looking older than before, and exhausted. “You know how fickle thetoncan be.”
“I know.”
Joyce paused, frowning into the distance. “She seems nice,” she said at last. “Your Thalia.”
“She is.” He cleared his throat, taking a generous drink. “I would like you all to get along.”
“Of course, Maxwell.”
“You were not friendly when greeting her.”
“I was as friendly as any lady might be to someone who has the power to ruin my entire family.” She shrugged and spared him a brief glance. “But my apologies. I will do better in the future.”
“Good,” he said, and let the subject drop.
They attended their first event—the opera—just one day after returning to Town. Maxwell held Thalia on his arm, ignoring the whispers that circulated about them. He had always known this would happen, but it had been his habit of rising above such things, and he hardly saw the necessity for changing his mindnow. Besides, when another scandal happened, and it most certainly would, the attention would change.
On his arm, Thalia looked like an ice queen, glistening in a gown of silver, with pearls in her hair and a diamond around her neck he had gifted her for the occasion. Joyce was the one to insist on the gown, and Maxwell could see why now: she looked every inch the duchess she was supposed to be.
“Everyone is staring at us,” she murmured as they took their place in their box.
“Yes,” he murmured back. “Because you look beautiful.”
“You do,” Lydia chirped from beside Thalia. “And I get to bask in your beauty.”
“You look lovely yourself,” Thalia said.
In contrast, Lydia had donned a pale rose dress that made her look pretty and girlish beside Thalia’s striking beauty. They were the perfect pair, and Maxwell couldn’t help feel a quiet swell of pride at the sight.
Joyce sat on his other side, adjusting her skirts. Although she had dropped the frigidity of their first meeting, and although she had given Thalia some excellenttonadvice that morning, he could tell she hadn’t fully warmed to her.
Thalia’s hand slipped in his, and he squeezed her fingers gently, letting her use his strength. When she had been a mere debutante, she had not garnered this much attention or jealousy. Much as he wished she would pay it no heed, he understood that this was an adjustment for her.
Besides, he was happy to allow his family to display a united front to the world. That was the best way of quelling rumor: to showcase that they were united in all ways.
It struck him then, as the curtain rose, that he would be happy to do this for the rest of his life.
And the thought, given thiswouldnow be the rest of his life, did not alarm him as much as he might have thought.
CHAPTER 19
Just two weeks after their arrival back in town, it was Lydia’s birthday.
