And by extension, for Thalia.
Instead of following Thalia upstairs to bed after dinner, Maxwell made a slight excuse of having work to do and waited in his study until he felt as though she had gone to sleep. Once he thought she had, he collected his plain clothes from the dressing room and changed in the light of a single candle.
Tonight, he needed to lose himself, and there was only one way he knew how to do that.
He did not dare peer into their shared bedchamber to see Thalia lying there, for fear he might lose his resolution and climb into bed beside her the way he had done so many times. Instead, he hurried from the house and called a cab to the underground club he had visited so many times. There, he walked down the stairs, feeling as though he had almost come back home after an extended period abroad.
The happiness he had found with Thalia, however briefly, had been a dream. Butthiswas real.
He entered his name in the books and, all too soon, was called to stand up in the small ring. The rope pressed against his back as he leaned against his. His opponent was a smaller man, but he would be faster. Maxwell knew better than to underestimate his opponent based on size alone.
He curled his hands into fists. The rest of the world fell away, the way it always did, when he was here. A whistle blew, and they both advanced to the center of the ring. The other man’s gaze flicked over him, taking him all in, and when the fight began, he immediately danced to the side, his arms covering his face. Maxwell sank into a half crouch, his blood singing as he waited for the first blow.
When it came, quick as a flash, he knocked it aside and feinted to the left. The man dodged, light on his feet. They toyed with one another until Maxwell finally lost patience and planted a blow in the other man’s face. His fist ached as his knuckles collided with the man’s jaw, and he welcomed the pain.
If he could, he would never return to his house. This would be the only thing that existed.
He smiled, feeling the savage expression on his face grow. “Again,” he said.
By the time he finished, morning brushed the horizon. Maxwell returned home, changed, and washed, and this time, he peered into the bedchamber where Thalia lay, peaceful and undisturbed. Her hair fanned across the pillow, and he ached to be beside her.
Instead, he went downstairs to the sofa in his study. There, he curled up and tried not to think of how she would feel when she awoke in an empty bed. She might not think so now, but this was for the best.
It was his mistake for letting them become so close in the first place. If he had known he would come to be so fond of her, in such a meaningful way, then he would have put a stop to it far sooner.
Then again, didn’t he already know? He shifted uncomfortably onto the narrow sofa, too short for his size. For weeks, he had been consumed with thoughts of her, and hadn’t he known it was more than mere lust? Being around her like this had only proved it and made things worse.
He closed his eyes, knowing sleep would not come quickly without Thalia by his side.
“Who else should we invite to the ball?” Thalia asked, consulting the list beside her of all the other prominent names and families in London.
It would not do to exclude anyone, unless it was a deliberate slight; such things would be poured over by theton,and enough gossip surrounded them already.
Maxwell frowned from where he sat behind his study desk. Ever since he had returned from boxing the other night, this spot was where he had chosen to sit, and if she wanted to spend time with him, she also had to inhabit this masculine room.
So long as she was able to sit with him, she would accept this. Welcome it, even if she had to.
“Have you included the Duke and Duchess of Kirkford?” Maxwell asked, looking back at his papers.
“Naturally. It would be the greatest offense if we didn’t.”
“And your father?”
“Do you think I should?”
“If you would rather he wasn’t there, then don’t invite him, but people will talk.”
She knew that. They had already begun to whisper. The gossip was so constant and frequent that it occasionally threatened to overwhelm her. “I don’t want to do anything that would offend anyone or be an unnecessary source of gossip.”
“Then invite him. I doubt he will attend.”
Thalia put her pen down. There was no mistaking it—this distance between them was new. She had known the sweetness of early married life could not last—they had not been living in reality—but she hardly knew what she had done to provoke him to close himself off so entirely.
“Do the rumors bother you at all?” she asked.
Maxwell made a note, the scratching of the quill overly loud in the silence. “Ought they to?”
“Everyone is asking how I managed to convert you.”
