“Of course you are. Now, are you ready to go?” Anna looked pointedly at the clock on the mantel, which now read eight in the evening. “There is such a thing as beingtoofashionably late. And you wouldn’t want your Duke to worry.”
At the thought of Maxwell, Thalia’s stomach dropped. He had sent her away to stay at Anna’s, and she didn’t know if that was because he had already decided he wanted as little to do with her as possible, or if it could be for his stated reason—to spare her the droves of callers.
And there were so many. Even those claiming to support her had drained her energy.
She followed Anna to the carriage, and a short drive later, they pulled up outside her own home along with all the other guests. Despite the scandal, very few were staying away, it seemed. Maxwell had been correct in his presumption that people would turn up, whether to gawp at her or as a show of support.
Simon helped her down, and the two ladies entered the house.
Thalia gasped.
There, at every possible place, was a sculpture of hers. So many of them crowded the space. The culmination of years of work was all lined up for perusal.
And people were perusing. As she watched, ladies and gentlemen peered at her models as though to find errors there. Her statues were examined in minute detail, her vases squinted at, everything she had created exposed for judgment.
But while there were quiet murmurs, there was no outrage, no one demanding that the statues be broken or her sculptures destroyed because they were made by her.
Maxwell appeared, striding through the hallway to greet her.
“Thalia,” he said, taking her hands and kissing her cheek. A show of affection that would be very obvious to everyone around them. “What do you think?”
People were staring. Thalia took a deep breath, her knees feeling weak and watery. “You did this?”
“I did,” he confirmed. “I thought you would like it.”
“I do, I—” She chewed her lip, her chest feeling so tight, she thought it might burst. “Thank you.”
He smiled, tucking her hand in his arm. “I wanted to show my support.”
“You turned the ball into this?”
“Well, there will still be dancing, if people would like. There are musicians and space enough for them. But the real purpose of tonight was to show the world that you are talented, and that I support you.”
Her heart swelled. “Maxwell,” she said, her throat thick. “If I had known—if I had known back when you first offered for me what sort of man you were, I would have never turned down your first proposal.”
He laughed, but before he could say anything, Simon came up from behind him. “Excuse me, Your Grace,” he said, winking at Thalia. “May I steal your husband for a moment?”
“Be my guest,” Thalia said, waving him away. Maxwell would be wanted that evening; there would be time later for them to talk. “Go, go, be off with you.”
He held up a hand in acknowledgement and left with Simon. The warm feeling in the base of Thalia’s stomach didn’t ease, especially when Lydia came bounding up to her.
“You’re back! I missed you.”
“I was only gone for a day or so,” Thalia said, smiling.
“Is this not amazing? Maxwell insisted on it all, and I must say, I never knew it was you! How fantastic. If I had known you were the one who made my birthday present, I would have been all the more excited to receive it. Has anyone ever told you how very talented you are?”
“Thank you, Lydia. That means so much to me.”
Joyce came up from behind Lydia, smiling tightly. It seemed the woman only ever had that expression, which Thalia still found mildly off-putting. The other woman had been trying of late, which Thalia appreciated, but there was still that… pinched look about her. As though Thalia carried a bad smell that only Joyce noticed.
“It’s very brave of you to show your face in this way,” she said in a conciliatory tone that immediately raised Thalia’s hackles. “It must not have been easy.”
A handsome young man in his early twenties raised his hand from across the room, and Lydia went immediately to join him, a beatific smile on her face. Evidently, this was a beau they ought to keep their eyes on.
“Thank you, Joyce,” Thalia said with a distinct lack of genuine appreciation. “It has been hard, but so far, people’s lack of judgment has been remarkable.”
“Oh well, they could hardly offend you here, could they?”
