“He could be idealistic to a fault sometimes,” I said after a moment. After all, he had married a young woman he barely knew and bought a house sight unseen. And those were just the things I knew about. “He always expected things would turn out right in the end, if only because he willed it to be so.”
The viscount’s brow rose in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were such a cynic.”
“I try not to be,” I said with a grim smile of my own. “But life has a way of wearing one down.”
“I’m sure these last years have been incredibly difficult. And I know I did not help,” he added, looking slightly grieved.
I narrowed my eyes. “No, you did not.”
“I apologize,” he said stiffly, and I wondered if he had ever spoken those words before. “I suppose my own grief got the better of me.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“How is Thomas?” he asked.
“He is well. Very curious about the world, like his father.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I do enjoy his letters.” The viscount smiled a little then, and for the first time, I noticed that his stern, stiff bearing was hiding something: he was sad. Maybe a little lonely as well. And I found I felt rather sorry for him.
“Perhaps we can return for a visit,” I said.
The viscount’s eyes lit up then, and he looked so much like Oliver in that moment that my heart hurt. “That would be greatly appreciated,” he said, attempting a sober tone that couldn’t quite mask his excitement.
“I think he would like it too,” I admitted.
We spent the next half hour sharing memories of Oliver, and when I recalled his disastrous attempt to rid our house of an infestation of bugs, the viscount laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. Then, just as I was preparing to leave, the viscount turned apprehensive.
“Forgive me for prying into your personal affairs—”
I gave him a look. “More than you already have?”
He bowed his head sheepishly. “Fair point. But I must ask what the nature of your relationship with Mr. Dorian is.”
“Must you?” I said tightly.
“I only come from a place of familial concern. I trust you know the rumors that surround him.”
“Yes. Quite well, in fact. And I know most of them are baseless,” I insisted with more confidence than I actually felt at the moment.
The viscount didn’t look convinced. “Then, you canunderstand my apprehension regarding a … a relationship between you.”
Though a part of me longed to put him firmly in his place, I settled instead for the truth. “I told you before, we are only acquaintances.”
He watched me for a moment. “And will you remain only acquaintances?”
I pursed my lips. “Forgive me, but I can’t even begin to know how to answer that.”
“I think you already have,” he said a little sadly. “I don’t expect you to stay a widow forever, you know. And I don’t think Oliver would want that either.”
I stiffened. “That is not your place to say, sir.”
He smiled again and took my hand. “Yes. I know. Hazard of being a spoiled viscount, I suppose. I hope you aren’t too angry with me, but I had to ask.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that, actually,” I grumbled as he gave me an admittedly charming bow.
“Take care, Minerva,” the viscount said with genuine concern. “And please, do come again soon.”
One Week Later
