And now he began to see a path to bring Harriet back.
Genevieve wouldn’t stand in his way, of course. She might have told him so if she hadn’t come to her senses and realized she was becoming just as mad as Rory and his friends. How could she stand in the way of his reuniting with his wife when she had been dead the better part of a year?
Rory turned to face her then, and she saw the grief he seemed to always keep hidden written plain on his face. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m thinking too literally. No one can come back from the dead.” He made an effort to school his expression into the one he usually wore—one full of confidence she now suspectedwas false. “King mentions the spell was a fragment. The rest of it must explain more clearly. I should write back to him and see if he’s found the rest.”
“Of course.” She moved away from his chair so he might sit and return to his work. He didn’t look at her now, and though she was standing close enough to once again catch the scent of amber, the intimacy between them earlier had fled. He seemed a stranger, and a cold one at that.
“I will see you at dinner,” he said. Genevieve curtseyed and returned outside to find Frances still playing with Admiral. She suggested they gather the fallen lilac buds and make crowns, and that occupied much of the afternoon. But just as she was beginning to think about dinner and anticipating seeing Rory again, his coachman brought his carriage around, and she spotted the conveyance bumping along the drive and away from the house.
“Where has Papa gone?” Frances asked.
“I don’t know.” Genevieve frowned then smiled at Frances when she caught the little girl watching her. “Should we go inside and wash our face and hands before dinner?”
“No! I want to stay outside.”
Genevieve gave her a look, and Frances dropped her head and stared at the ground. “I mean, yes, Miss Genevieve.” She looked up again. “We never did decide what I should call you.”
“Why don’t we discuss it over dinner? It looks like you and I will dine together.” She raised a finger before Frances could object. “And don’t try to think of more ways to keep me from taking you inside. I see what you’re about, Miss Lumlee.”
Frances smiled and then ran ahead on the path. Genevieve took one last look at the lane Rory’s carriage had taken, then followed.
When she went inside, Gables handed her a folded slip of paper. She read it while Frances splashed water in the basinbehind the Chinese screen in her room. The letter said only that Rory was sorry to miss dinner and would return late. Genevieve felt an acute sense of disappointment but managed to smile and enjoy her dinner with Frances. She tucked the girl in and almost retired to her former bedchamber, but remembered she was now Lady Emory and walked to her new chamber.
Molly was there to help her undress and change, and when Genevieve was ready for bed, she picked up a book and decided to read. She was tired but determined to see Rory when he returned. When her clock chimed ten, she rose from her chair and tiptoed to the door adjoining their chambers. She hadn’t heard the carriage return, but Rory must be back now. She put her hand to the door handle, but nothing happened. The door was locked.
Genevieve tapped on the door, waited, tapped again. No one answered. She donned her robe then, seeing the torn tie, found a wrapper instead and made her way downstairs to the library. The house was dark, and the library empty. Genevieve went back to her chamber and, feeling like an idiot now, tapped on the adjoining door again. She could hear movement inside, but Rory didn’t come to the door.
Genevieve went back to bed and lay awake for a long time, wondering if she’d done something wrong and hoping Rory might open the door and climb into bed beside her. Finally, she fell asleep, convinced she was making too much of it all and everything would be fine in the morning.
But everything was not fine that morning, or that day, or the one after that. Rory was definitely avoiding her. She saw him, but he kept their interactions formal and public. When she tried to speak to him alone in the library, Gables barred her passage. Chaffer seemed to always be in Rory’s bedchamber. Genevieve found it increasingly difficult to believe she hadn’t done something, but she was mystified as to what that might be.
At least Rory wasn’t shutting his daughter out. Genevieve had spent several hours with Mrs. Mann and the cook, discussing household changes she wanted to make, and when she returned, she found Rory had taught Frances chess and the two were playing. The next day, he took her to the stables, where a pony waited for her. The rest of the day was spent giving the girl riding lessons.
Finally, five days after their marriage, Genevieve and Frances were playing hide-and-seek. Frances was seeking, and Genevieve hid in the upstairs closet. She immediately realized her mistake. This was the closet where she’d first kissed Rory. She had been trying the past few days not to think about him, but now she couldn’t help but remember the night they’d spent together. For a few hours she’d thought their marriage might be more than a formality so Frances might have a mother and Rory wouldn’t have to worry about the child any longer. But now he spent more time with his daughter than ever, and no time with Genevieve.
Well, she needn’t have worried about marriage usurping her independence. She could practically pretend she wasn’t married at all.
She heard footsteps along the corridor and tensed for discovery, but the footsteps were too heavy to be Frances. Genevieve eased the door open a sliver and spotted Rory coming down the corridor, a moment away from passing the closet. He was looking at a paper in his hand and not paying attention to where he was walking. Before she could change her mind, she reached out, grasped his arm, and tugged him inside, closing the closet door behind him.
“What the devil?” he said.
Genevieve couldn’t believe her attack had actually worked. If he had been paying attention, he would have resisted, but he’d been inside the closet before he knew what was happening.“Shh!” Genevieve said, positioning herself against the door. “Frances is seeking me, and I don’t want to be caught.”
Rory stiffened, seeming to realize he was inside the closet with Genevieve…his wife. “I’m not playing.”
“I don’t need you to play. I want to speak to you.”
“We can speak outside of the closet.” He tried to move her aside, but she stood firmly in front of the door.
“No, we can’t. You have been avoiding me, and I want to know why,” she whispered.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Ha! Not too busy to buy Frances a pony or teach her chess. Did I do something wrong? Tell me, and I won’t do it again.”
He sighed. “Genevieve, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
He was lying. He had to be, because something had changed from the day after their wedding until now. “I was too forward, wasn’t I? Too wanton.”
