The tone of someone so spent and annoyed that he was unable to bear a second more in Talbot’s tiresome presence. The tone of someone who felt that he, his irksome wife, and his (Talbot was certain) equally irksome baby were on one side of a fence, and he, Colin, was on the other, forever destined to look on from the outside at the warmth and joy the three of them shared.
So Talbot did what any self-respecting, well-bred Eton man in his position would do: he pretended he didn’t want to be part of Nicholas’s life anyway.
“I'm worried about you, all alone in the boring country. You should come and stay in London for a while, old friend.”
“I'm happy right here, Talbot, mind your business. And I amnot alone,” Nicholas responded firmly.
“Bad enough you saddled yourself with a wife, but now that you are imprisoned here? It is just pathetic. Imagine the rest of theTonseeing you stare at your wife constantly like a lovesick puppy.” Talbot pressed what he knew was Hawkins’s weak spot. “A real man enjoys God's bounty on Earth without limiting himself to one garden,” he said with a smile.
“There is nothing more valuable or important to me than my wife. Maybe I was unclear the last time you provoked me, but our love is something I am proud of. I could lose my dukedom and still be happy if I had her and Emma with me. That is the true measure of a man: his loyalty to his family. I don't care what theTonthinks, and I don't care what you think. I can only hope you'll get to experience love like this in your lifetime, because you used to be my friend once upon a time, and I still want you to be happy. But until you do, you are no longer welcome in my home if you are going to speak against my marriage and disturb our peace.”
Talbot felt a cold bead of sweat glide down his back. Their friendship was over. He’d lost Nicholas for good.
“Very well, I see you've made your choice,” he said coolly as he stood up. “I look forward to seeing you regret it. I will take my leave first thing in the morning, then.”
“Good night, Talbot.”
Colin nodded and walked back to his room as if in a dream. The pendulum of his emotions swung from indignation and anger at Nicholas’s sanctimonious, condescending attitude now that he had a wife and child he loved, to paralysing, crippling heartbreak.
“We shall see how long this phase will last,” he tried consoling himself. “Nicholas is aTonman and his father’s son, I am certain he will have a mistress this time next year.”
Chapter 3
February 1818
It had taken the women of the Mayfair household months, but they were slowly coming out of their grief for the late Princess Charlotte. Together with the rest of the country, they had been draped in black since November, mourning the young woman and her stillborn son.
Tales of the Princess of Wales’s cruel father and absent mother were told and retold as if to heighten the heartbreak. Mary walked around with tell-tale tear streaks visible in the fine layer of cornstarch she applied daily in her attempts to conceal her blemished skin.
The daily crying, finding a dressmaker who still had access to black fabrics, the funeral processions – it was all too much for Elizabeth, whose life had already changed so profoundly, and around New Year’s, she fell ill with what she was told was typhus fever.
Now, sitting at the bay window of the morning room, some two months later, she felt frail and devoid of desire.At least I shall see Nicholas today,she thought.
After ten months in her new home, she had access to pin money and a generous bank account and a chest filled with gorgeous new dresses, courtesy of the fact that her former employer was now her dressmaker. Her brother had even told her he was in the process of securing a tutor, an etiquette teacher, and a dance master for her.
Elizabeth didn’t feel vindicated or elevated by this change in circumstance; on the contrary, she feltconfused. She felt like some great mistake had been made, and that any day now there would be a knock on the door and someone would tell her to go back to the little house on Church Street. She had Mister Ed drive by it whenever she could, almost compulsively, in order not to forget her true place.
When she’d received the note from her brother that he’d be calling on her in two days, Elizabeth hadn’t expected him to bring other people, but here he was, sitting in her parlour, accompanied by a young man and an older lady. Elizabeth had been looking forward to spending some time alone with Nicholas, but she still smiled brightly as she greeted him.
“Lady Emilia Burnham, may I present to you my sister, Lady Elizabeth Hawkins,” he said cordially, and Elizabeth curtsied to the older woman, who narrowed her eyes almost imperceptibly and performed an infinitely more elegant curtsy in return.
“And this is our cousin Andrew Hawkins, our late uncle Phillip’s son.” He gestured at the man, who bowed with a smile.
Elizabeth was thrilled to meet another family member, and she told him so.
“I’m just as glad, cousin Elizabeth,” he replied.
Elizabeth urged them all to get comfortable, and she rang for tea, still uncertain about the nature of this visit.
“Cousin Andrew is currently at Oxford,” Nicholas explained, “and I’ve tasked him with being your tutor for the foreseeable future.”
When Elizabeth looked between the two men without saying anything, Nicholas continued, “Like I already told Andrew, I’m aware that you’ve receivedsomeinstruction. However, in order to blend effortlessly into theTon, we need to be certain that your education is equal to that of other young ladies of your standing.”
Elizabeth almost laughed but wisely restrained herself.
“That is very considerate of you,” she said instead.
Nicholas nodded before continuing, “Lady Burnham is Sophie’s cousin, and she’s kindly agreed to instruct you in matters of etiquette.”
