The way Thalia and Maxwell had touched each other in the beginning. But this was maintained by a show of unity. While these two were standing together, Maxwell had left her to speak with someone else.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t mind, but tonight she needed his presence more than ever before.
“I have to say, I am so incredibly impressed by your work,” Madeline said, drawing Thalia’s attention back to her. “I have been a fan of Rossi’s forever—have I not, darling?”
“You most certainly have,” Wilhelm said with a slightly wry smile. “To the extent that I wondered if I ought to be jealous.”
Madeline’s laugh was bright and unaffected, not concerned by this comment at all, and by the way Wilhelm’s face split into a more sincere smile, too, this had not been a genuine concern of his either.
“Well,” Madeline said teasingly, “I suppose it entirely depended on whether the gentleman in question was as handsome as everyone said he was.”
“You do not have to worry,” Thalia said. “As I am not a gentleman at all.”
“We are delighted that Maxwell had the sense to marry a lady with something about her,” Madeline said.
“On occasion,” Wilhelm said, “a man must be challenged, and often it is best coming from his wife.”
“And as a wife, it is best to know how to challenge one’s husband.” Madeline rested her cheek briefly against her husband’s shoulder. “Frequently, if one can. And always with affection.”
Because you love one another.
The thought of it made Thalia want to scream, even as she smiled at the Duke and Duchess. Truly, shewashappy for them. It was not that she didn’t want joy for others, but more that she wanted that same joy for herself. The Duke struck her as a man accustomed to getting his own way, and who’d had to learn how to bend for the sake of his beautiful wife. And she was an independent soul who had come to love and trust in her husband.
Whatever they had overcome, they had done so together.
Thalia looked again at Maxwell, who was now speaking to someone else, gesturing at one of her sculptures.
“We wish you both the best,” Madeline said, seeming to sense Thalia’s desire to be alone. “And for what it’s worth, I am so glad he finally decided to marry you.”
Finally.
The world thought that he had been the one to throw her over the first time; they probably saw her with a degree of pity, having finally won over the man who had scorned her.
The room was filled with her sculptures, and yet she felt as though the walls were closing around her. Her nose stung.
The musicians began to play, and Wilhelm asked his wife to dance. They went to join the other couples, and Thalia retreated to the far wall to watch them. She found herself besidePassione.
How young and foolish and naïve she had been when she first created it. Now she had experienced passion, and it was so very much like what she had imagined, only far better. Her sculpture didn’t do it justice.
But there was something else that followed.
Heartbreak.
And nothing she could do could prepare her for that.
The ball lasted until the early hours of the morning. As the sun began to rise, the final guest left, and Thalia felt as though she could breathe again.
She lay across the sofa in the drawing room, staring at the ceiling, as Maxwell entered the room and closed the door with a smallclickbehind him. They had danced occasionally, and he had sought her out a few times, but he largely seemed more interested in her artwork than in her.
Perhaps that was an unfair criticism, given everything. But one she couldn’t help but make.
Her stomach tightened. Her face felt tight and dry, although she hadn’t given way to the tears that had been threatening the entire night.
“Well,” Maxwell said, “I think that went about as well as expected.”
“My father didn’t arrive.”
“On the contrary; he attempted to. I told him to leave.”
