She gasped at the thought, horrified that her mind would betray her like that. It was simply not true. She was perfectly content to be in another room of Harewood Court all day andnotsee her husband at all. Indeed, she only disturbed him when he was working to make sure he was not working too hard. It had absolutely nothing to do with missing him.
She would continue to convince herself of all that until there could be no doubt in her wayward mind.
“They have walked past us,” Max murmured, pulling back. “And my cravat, I suspect, looks worse than it did before.”
She blinked up at him, her throat tight. “What?”
“The spectators—they have walked past us,” he replied, his eyes creasing into a confused frown. “That is what you wanted, is it not? It is over. The metaphorical curtain has come down on our performance.”
An awkward laugh left his lips, prompting her to fix a smile on her face, forcing a chuckle out of her mouth. She could not let him see that she had been so involved in the performance that she had forgotten it was an act. She could not let him think, for even a moment, that she wanted more from him than he was willing to give. Nor could she let herself think that it could ever be real.
“I would take my bow,” she said with false cheer, “but that would rather ruin the illusion.”
Max nodded, offering his arm. “And we would hate to do that, would we not?”
“Yes,” she replied decisively, taking the proffered arm, “we would.”
She could not and would not forget again that it was all pretend, for the safety of her own heart. And the sooner they could visit the house that might be hers, the better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“You have quite the wife, Maximilian.”
Max sipped his drink and glanced at his old friend from Eton, James Forster. “She is a revelation,” he replied, his throat thick as he realized that he meant it.
“I doubt I have ever seen a lady more radiant, nor so readily accepted back into society. She seems to be irresistible to all who meet her.” James grinned. “Why, you would never know there had been a scandal at all.”
“No one can stay angry at love for very long,” Max replied tightly.
He watched his wife as she laughed and chattered with Phoebe and her younger sister, Ellen, who had been unexpected arrivals to the Assembly Rooms that night. There was no sign, however, of Ellen’s twin, Joanna, who had been absent from society for a while.
Caroline had hoped that Daniel would be with them, so she might see her brother again, but it was not to be—apparently, he was in Scotland, tending to some business.
Still, it was obvious that the disappointment had not lasted. Max had never seen his wifemoreradiant than she was in the company of her friends. Her voice, her beauty, and her animated conversations drew the attention of anyone who happened to be nearby, and the looks they gave her were fond and envious in equal measure.
And though Max would have liked to join in with the cheerful scene, he was determined to keep himself to the periphery. After a week of endless promenades and parties and dinners and balls and calling on acquaintances, he needed some distance from her.
Her act of being wholly, utterly, and madly in love with him had become too convincing and much too dangerous.
“You would not mind if I were to ask her to dance, would you?” James asked with a sly smile.
Max shrugged. “Please do, though I would be surprised if she accepted.”
“It is… unseemly for a wife to only dance with her husband,” James protested. “It is not normal. For so many ladies, the entire point of marriage is to have the freedom to dance with others.”
“Is that whatyourwife told you?” Max replied. “Where is dear Josephine tonight?”
James sniffed. “Heaven knows. We rarely spend the winter months together. She ventures off to her sister’s or her mother’s, and I come to London to pretend I do not have a wife at all. It suits us.” He downed the contents of his port glass. “You are making us all look bad, Maximilian.”
There was no satisfaction in knowing the truth—that in due course, Max and Caroline’s marriage would likely have a similar foundation of separation. He had spoken with Albert about the possible countryside residence just that morning, and the conversation had been promising, though he had not yet asked Caroline when she might like to visit.
Why have I not?He had had ample opportunity, but no moment had felt right. They had endured a luncheon with other peers which had tipped over into a visit to the gallery, which had become afternoon tea with Lord and Lady Pocklington, then dinner at the Marquess of Sudbury’s residence. All the while, Caroline had played her part of doting, adoring wife much too well. So much so that he had not been able to bring up the matter of her moving elsewhere, far from him.
“Excuse me,” Max said to his friend, deciding that there would be no better time than a dance to ask when she wanted to see the house.
He weaved through the crowd of people, ignoring the whispers that trailed him as he made his way to his wife. It seemed strangethat had they married under different, happier circumstances, he might have considered himself to be the luckiest man in England. Instead, he just felt like a fraud, heeding a plan that no longer sat well with him.
“My love!” Caroline cried as she saw him, hurrying to close the gap between them. She took hold of his hands and beamed up at him, so adoring that he could not bear it. How could she be such a gifted thespian?
