And for the first time since their wedding, she feared that perhaps her heart was no longer the only one in danger.
For he acts as though our connection is more fragile than it has ever been… or am I imagining this?
CHAPTER 26
The morning sun spilled through the tall windows of the Mulford Manor parlor, bathing the room in soft gold and warming the pale cream walls. A silver tea service gleamed upon the low table between Charlotte and Elizabeth, surrounded by delicate porcelain cups painted with tiny blue flowers. The scent of bergamot tea mingled pleasantly with butter biscuits and fresh raspberry preserves while the fire crackled softly despite the mild early summer weather. Charlotte sat gracefully upon the sofa opposite Elizabeth, though her mind wandered far more than her polite smile suggested.
Elizabeth happily stirred sugar into her tea with far too much enthusiasm for such a small task. “Last evening was precisely what this house needed,” she declared brightly. “For years these rooms have felt dreadfully serious, as though everyone were attending a funeral rather than residing in a grand estate.” She took a pleased sip of tea before continuing. “But now there is laughter again, music, shouting over cards, young ladies arguing over nonsense; it is perfect.”
Charlotte smiled warmly. “It was lovely seeing everyone together.”
“And Victor looked positively human for once,” Elizabeth added mischievously. “That alone made the evening worth enduring Oswald’s dreadful stories about wool merchants.”
Charlotte laughed softly into her cup. “Uncle Oswald does enjoy hearing himself speak.”
“My dear, your uncle would deliver speeches to the furniture if no one else were available.” Elizabeth waved a dismissive hand. “Still, your family brings spirit into the place, and that grandchild of mine desperately needs spirit around him or he sinks into moods darker than a thunderstorm.” Her eyes twinkled knowingly. “Marriage suits him far better than he expected.”
At that Charlotte lowered her gaze to her tea, suddenly shy. The word marriage still startled her at times. She had gone from resigned spinsterhood to duchess so quickly, and sometimes it felt as though she were merely acting a role in somebody else’s life. Yet when Victor touched her or looked at her in that heated way of his, everything became startlingly real.
Elizabeth sighed dreamily. “And of course once there are children this manor shall truly come alive again.”
Charlotte nearly choked upon her tea.
Elizabeth continued on happily, entirely unaware of the storm she had caused. “I cannot wait for the sound of little feet running through the corridors again. A great-grandchild would do wonders for my spirits.” She clasped her hands together with delight. “I do hope the child inherits your eyes and Victor’s height.”
Charlotte forced herself to smile despite the uncomfortable twist in her chest. “That would certainly create a very tall child.”
Elizabeth laughed brightly. “Excellent. The Mulford bloodline produces excellent bone structure.”
Charlotte tried to laugh along, but her thoughts had already begun spiralling.
Children.
The very thing she had secretly longed for since she was a girl helping her mother soothe her crying sisters after difficult winters. She had always imagined a bustling household full of warmth and laughter and sleepy little faces tucked against her shoulder.
Now she finally had a husband, a home, security, everything she once believed impossible.
Except Victor does not want children.
The realization stung more sharply than she cared to admit. She still did not understand the depth of his refusal, only that something dark and fearful tightened inside him whenever the subject arose. At first, she had convinced herself it mattered little compared to all he had already given her family. Yet lately the thought lingered more painfully than before.
She carefully set down her teacup. “Perhaps we ought to speak of happier things than infants before breakfast.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Very well, though I maintain babies are always a happy topic.”
Charlotte quickly seized the opportunity to redirect the conversation. “My sisters and I are going shopping at Savile Row in a few days time. Would you care to accompany us?”
Elizabeth immediately looked scandalized. “Good heavens no. Your sisters exhaust me merely by existing. I think I have had enough diversion for now.”
Charlotte burst into laughter.
“They are lovely girls,” Elizabeth continued fondly, “but they descend upon shops like invading armies.” She pointed dramatically with her teaspoon. “Last time Joan argued with a modiste for twenty minutes over ribbon trim as though international diplomacy depended upon it.”
“In Joan’s defence,” Charlotte replied carefully, “the ribbon was hideous.”
Elizabeth barked with laughter loud enough to startle the footman pouring fresh tea. “You fit into this family splendidly, my dear.” She smiled warmly. “No, you girls may venture to the shops alone, but you must bring me back something pretty. Perhaps lace.”
“Or perhaps another tiny dog figurine for your collection,” Charlotte teased.
