“Isaac and I used to hear you crying in the cellar all the time,” he continued though he knew he should stop. “We’d often ask each other if we should go and comfort you, but we knewyou’dscoldusfor it. And in ten, twenty years, he would’ve chipped our fortune away to nothing with his extravagances, but he wouldn’t listen to reason. I’ve seen the ledgers, Mother. I’ve seen how much he used to spend on his paramours. He was still paying one until he died—for her silence, no doubt.”
The air in the room thickened and stilled until the only sound was the ticking of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Constance had turned very pale, her hands shaking as she gripped the pearls around her neck, like she meant to rip them off and hurl them to the floor.
She didn’t know? Doubt crept into Albion’s mind. No… that’s not possible. There’s no way she didn’t know.
He and Isaac had witnessed an altercation between their mother and one of their father’s lovers years ago, and she had certainly known then. She had known enough to slap the other woman so hard that the crack was like a lightning bolt while she hissed, “If I see you near him again, I will not just slap you, I will break your pretty neck.”
“What happened between your father and I is my business,” Constance said stiffly. “I… loved him. I uphold my duty to him still.”
Albion shook his head. “Then you’re wasting the freedom you’ve been given.”
“You have made it quite obvious to me that you will not listen to a word that I say,” she muttered, rising to her feet. “Nevertheless, I suggest you upholdyourduty. Children are an expectation. You should have known that. Your wife surely does.”
She stalked to the door and turned back, her brow creasing, her mouth opening and closing like she could not find the words she wished to say. Her hand gripped the doorjamb, knuckles whitening, but it seemed her next words would have to remain a mystery. With a breath, she departed, saying nothing more.
Albion leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.Why does it always have to be like that?He was certain that there was some part of her that loved him and some part of him that loved her, but those two pieces had never been able to find each other amidst the relentless conflict.
A knock came at the door, and Albion flinched, fearing his mother had returned to lash another shortcoming at him.
Instead, Matilda poked her head around. “I am guessing from that almighty door slam that your mother has gone? Does that mean we can eat our dinner now?”
“Come here.” He opened his arm out to her.
She went to him, hugging into his side, her arms around his waist, her head resting against his chest. “That bad?”
“Fairly awful.”
“How many rude things did she say about me?”
Albion chuckled. “Enough.”
“Any that bear repeating?” She peered up at him mischievously.
“Well, for one thing, I don’t think she knows your name,” he told her. “She refers to you as ‘that woman’ a lot.”
Matilda laughed. “When my book is finished, she will know my name.” Her eyes twinkled. “Especially when she reaches the chapter entitled:Navigating the Dreaded Mother-in-Law.It isquiteincendiary if I do say so myself.”
Albion’s thoughts must have been written upon his face, for a sudden shyness came over Matilda. She turned her gaze downward, fidgeting with her collar.
“Of course, I will let you read my book before I send it to anyone,” she said. “If there is anything you would have me remove… I will consider it at the very least, for I would not truly wish to upset anyone. Your mother has… suffered this year. I am not the sort of person who would ever wish to increase the suffering of someone, even if they see no difficulty in increasingmydiscomfort. Saying that, I do not think your mother is unkind by nature, but by… experience, perhaps.”
Albion observed his wife, touched by the gesture. “You seem conflicted.”
“An author in the midst of their work is always conflicted—moving chapters around, crossing things out, deciding what is important and what is not,” she confirmed, meeting his gaze. “Still, I wish to assure that my intent is not to be cruel, despite any personal quarrels she and I might have. Or anyone in my book, for that matter. It is vital that I am objective.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I would be honored to read your book when it is finished—just as a precautionary measure,” he said with a wink, “so my mother doesn’t kill you.”
“Is that something I should be worried about? Perhaps, I should remove her entirely.” A flicker of genuine fear passed across Matilda’s enchanting eyes.
Albion shook his head, mustering a smile. “Of course not. That was a terrible joke.”
“Yes, it was.” She hugged him tighter, sighing contentedly.
But as he gazed out of the window with his wife safe in his arms, a chill juddered down his spine.She wouldn’t… would she?
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
“Anna!” Matilda howled, hurtling down the porch steps to greet the carriage that had just arrived. She wrenched the door open, much to the displeasure of the footman.
