“No. I think it isinfuriating.” He stepped closer again. “You shut me out. You smile and nod and speak as if we are nothing more than civil acquaintances. You won’t look at me.”
She threw up her hands. “Perhaps I should have embroidered it into the new draperies. That way you’d actually read it.”
His brows lifted. “I would have preferred that to this strange campaign of silence.”
“And I would have preferred a husband who does not hide behind cryptic silences and half-answers!” she snapped. “You wish for honesty, yet you give none. You ask me to bare every thought while hiding behind your own barriers. You want my truth but withhold yours. That, Your Grace, is a double standard.”
Theo drew in a breath, but no quick answer came.
She had not shouted. She had not wept. But her words landed harder than if she had done both.
He turned away for a moment, fingers flexing at his sides. “It has never been easy for me.”
She said nothing, waiting.
“I had no one. Not truly. And Eugenia… she did more for me than anyone ever has, but I cannot keep leaning on her. I will not burden her with more than she has already carried.”
April’s arms dropped from her chest as she stepped forward. “And what am I, then? A stranger you share meals with? I am your wife, Theo. Or have you forgotten?”
“No,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I have not forgotten. Not for a moment.”
Her breath caught, and she looked down then up again. “You are so used to standing alone, you do not know what it means to stand beside someone. But that is what marriage is.”
He stared at her. “You speak as though you are unbreakable,” he said. “As though I might hand you all the ugly pieces of me and you’d simply carry them.”
She smiled then—not mocking, not pitying, justherself. “Try me.”
He raised his free hand and touched her cheek with a slowness born of restraint. Her skin warmed his palm.
How much of myself can I show her? How much could she bear to see?
He didn’t speak. Not yet. But something shifted inside him. Something old and locked began to rouse, and for once, he did not fight it.
“I want to call a truce, April. I have much to say, but I need you to give me time to say it.” Theo needed to negotiate with himself first to decide how much he could reveal to her. “Can you give me that? The chance to give you the answers without haste?”
Her face softened, and her shoulders eased. “Very well. You may come to me when you are ready.”
He took a step toward her—to do what, he was unsure. Reaching out, he brushed a chestnut curl from her brow.
“Do not make me wait too long,” she whispered.
Theo leaned forward ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Their faces were mere inches apart, and he could hear the short breath escape her lips. The color staining her cheeks made his heart pound in his chest. “I think you still have a painting to straighten.”
He would kiss her if he did not say something to make her leave, and Theo doubted the notion of a kiss was a good one. Not with the tension that still lingered between them. Nevertheless, he leaned closer and closer until she let out a gasp.
“I—yes…” April took a step back.Good.“I should see to that painting.”
She hurried out of the salon while he ran a hand through his hair, containing his sigh.
Twenty-Five
Aknock came.
April paused, her fingers tangled in her hair as she sat at her vanity, comb in hand. The knock had not come from the hallway, but from the door that connected her chambers to Theo’s.
She rose slowly, donned her robe, and crossed the room. Her fingers hovered over the handle for a moment before she turned it.
Theo stood there, his dark hair tousled, his cravat undone, and the faintest crease on his brow. He had never looked more like himself. Or rather?—
