“Take care of yourself,” Matilda said for her sake and for Albion’s. “For your nephew, please do remember to return in one piece. Indeed, I am sorry I have not taken the opportunity to get to know you better, for I believe that you might have been able to tell me everything I wish to know about this man here.”
Lomax chuckled. “I’ll write you a list of his foibles and merits, Your Grace.”
“Which side would be longer?” She flashed a teasing look at Albion, whose face had become blank as though he had put up a wall that no one could see past.
Lomax tilted his head to one side. “His merits, I think.”
“Then, I look forward to your list.” Matilda put out her hand, and Lomax took it, the pair of them shaking hands. If it surprised Lomax, he did not show it. “Journey safely, and as I said, remember to return in one piece.”
Lomax bowed his head. “I will, Your Grace, but you must also promise to take care of my friend while I’m gone. You’ll not find a better man anywhere in the world. No friend more loyal, more protective, more encouraging.” He paused. “I realize it’s a strange situation, but in any situation, you have to make the best of it.”
I have been,she wanted to quip but held her tongue. Instead, she observed her husband, wondering how many layers she would have to peel away before she found that sweeter center. For the sake of her book, perhaps it would not be a terrible idea to delve to the heart of him, one way or another.
“You’ll miss your ship if you keep chattering,” Albion said quietly. “Farewell, Lomax.Dotry and make it back, eh?”
Lomax dragged his friend into a hug, clapping him on the back. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Captain. I’ll be back, just wait and see.”
“I hope so,” Albion replied.
After a moment, the two men pulled apart, nodded to one another, and Lomax made his way to the horse that awaited him.
“Try and be happy, won’t you?” he said, climbing up into the saddle.
Albion said nothing.
Matilda, on the other hand, waved to him and put on a smile as she replied, “Even if it means living in separate wings of the house and pretending the other does not exist, we will do our best.”
Lomax laughed, and as he turned his horse around, he offered a few waves and shouts of “goodbye.” Albion stayed where he was until his friend had made it through the gates, vanishing from sight.
The moment he was gone, Albion glanced down at Matilda. “Dinner. Tonight.”
“Are you inviting me or telling me?” Matilda replied, noting a gleam in his eyes that he did not try to hide. A sadness, honorably worn.
“Whichever you prefer,” he said, turning around. “Thank you again for retrieving my things. You shouldn’t have, but thank you.”
Before she could respond with an excuse as towhyshe had brought back his belongings—so they did not get carried away by the tide, so they did not cause confusion to seabirds, so they did not become permanent homes for hermit crabs—Albion had returned inside the manor. And once again, she received a view of his back retreating from her.
At least it is a nice back,she mused with a sigh though her disappointment was short-lived. That spark of inspiration had come back with a vengeance, and she had plenty to write before dinner. Indeed, the hours until dinner might not be enough time for her to record everything that she had learned that day about marriages of inconvenience.
* * *
“Do you not wash your hands before dinner where you hail from?” Constance Winter remarked coldly from the opposite side of the dinner table, her mouth pinched with disgust.
Matilda, stewing in her chair, looked up in alarm. “It is ink, Madam. I have scrubbed and scrubbed, and it will not be washed away, but my hands are clean.” Anger flickered in her chest. “As for where I hail from, I was raised with the greatest attention to manners.”
Which is why I am not going to point out that you have wine stains between the creases of your lips or mention that your cuffs have turned gray.It was the first time Matilda had properly encountered her mother-in-law, and she was not about to let the older woman throw around her perceived authority.
“Nonsense. You have not bothered to scrub hard enough,” Constance shot back, staring at Matilda as if she were a filthy waif who had crawled her way into the manor, muddying everything.
“Would you care to try?” Matilda said with saccharine sweetness. “I assure you, the results would be the same.”
Constance turned up her nose. “Put your gloves back on, at least.”
“I will when my husband arrives.” Matilda hated wearing gloves to dinner and did not see any sense in it, especially in what was meant to be her own home, but if it would please Constance, she would deign to do it.
“You like to be disobedient, do you not?” Constance said with a tut in her voice. “Well, I do not mind telling you that it will not serve you in this manor. You will behave, you will obey, you will be a good wife to my son, and you will do what is expected of you. I will not accept slovenliness in my home.”
Matilda sat back in her chair, slouching deliberately. “May I ask what I have done to offend you so, beyond allowing my hands to breathe before dinner?”
