“I suppose,” she said with a sigh, “I wanted to see if marriage had changed the infamously silly Tobias Blake.” She tapped his shoulder, and he jerked it away. She seemed not to notice. “It has, I think. You seem happy.”
Happy? He was almost damned delirious. He opened his mouth to tell her so but stopped, stunned. It was no simple response he meant to speak out loud. It was the honest truth. Celia hadn’t stolen all his joy, had she? A laugh bubbled in his chest, but he swallowed it. He wouldn’t give that joy to Celia, too. He’d save it for Maggie, who’d returned his heart whole to him after the woman before him had shredded it.
He stared into Celia’s face searching for the pain he felt after her rejection a year ago, and he found nothing. The realization nearly rocked him back on his heels. He looked at her once more, really considered her this time. The fine lines around her eyes, the one gray hair at her temple, her plump lips and plumper bosom.
He searched the room for Maggie and found her. Her eyes lit up and her gestures were animated as she talked, but when she listened, she glowed in an intent stillness, attempting to understand exactly what her conversational partner said. She looked his way, and when he caught her gaze her smile bloomed into life, and he felt his own grow in response.
“My God,” he said to Celia without looking away from Maggie, “I believe I’m in love with her.”
Maggie returned her attention to her conversational partner and Tobias followed her gaze, eager to see the person he needed to steal her away from.
And he saw his parents. She was talking to his parents alone. Unsupervised. Good God. This would either be The Absolute Worst Thing to Ever Happen or The Most Amusing Thing to Ever Happen. Either way, he wanted to be there.
“Goodbye, Celia,” he said, “thank you for coming. I’ll see you …” He tilted his head and tapped his lower lip. “Likely never, actually. Have a happy life.”
Celia’s pouty smile turned into a pouty frown. “I wouldn’t be so sure we’ll never cross paths again, Toby.”
“I am.”
She inched nearer and walked her fingers up his forearm to his elbow. “I’m a married woman now, and you’re a married man. There are certain liberties we can take together that …”
He waited. She never finished. He pulled his arm away from her. “So, I am not the type of man one marries, but I am the type of man one cheats on one’s husband with?”
She blushed. “Toby, I—”
“No thank you, Celia.” Tobias turned from her and felt like he turned away from a great falsehood that had haunted him, controlled him, the past year. He set his steps toward Maggie, who shined in the distance like an important truth.
Chapter 18
Maggie almost jumped out of her gown when an arm snaked around her waist, interrupting a conversation on the merits of cotton she was enjoying with Tobias’s father.
“Mags,” Tobias whispered in her ear. He pulled her against him.
Mr. Blake’s eyes narrowed.
Mrs. Blake’s eyes widened. Her hand fluttered to her chest.
Maggie pulled away, attempting to put a few inches between her and her husband. “Tobias.” Did she have enough censure in her voice? His mischievous smile suggested not. “Tobias, I’m enjoying a conversation with your father about cotton.”
“Oh? My waistcoat is silk. See?” He pulled his jacket to the side as if they hadn’t all been able to see the bright pink confection before.
Mr. Blake sneered at his son’s chest.
Mrs. Blake smiled politely.
Maggie frowned. She’d entered some sort of ongoing game between her husband and his father, between cotton and silk. She shook free of the discomfort and beamed in admiration at Tobias’s waistcoat instead. She didn’t see a blinding color. She saw the amazing construction, the darker pink design embroidered into the material. Lines curved and swooped from top to bottom, reminding her of a close-up depiction of the stem, leaves, and petals of a lily. She couldn’t help herself. She put fingertips to chest, following the outline of one curve.
He caught her hand and held it close to his chest. “You like it?” His eyes glowed. With pride, she thought.
A snort turned Maggie back toward Tobias’s parents. His father glared at them. “She has better sense than to approve of your frippery, son.”
How could a father speak of his son so? Her parents were quite useless in many ways, but they’d never outright insulted her. Surely the man could appreciate something about his son? “The silk, though, Mr. Blake, is it fine, don’t you think? Does it match the points you mentioned for a truly quality bolt of fabric?”
Mr. Blake’s eye turned from brutally critical to analytically so. He inched closer to Tobias, dipped his head, narrowed his eyes. If he’d had a quizzing glass, he would have applied that as well. He straightened. “I am better versed in cotton, but yes, yes.” He lifted curious eyes to Tobias. “It’s exquisite.”
Tobias shifted from foot to foot, as if uncomfortable by the something approaching approval in his father’s eyes. He pulled himself up tall and cocked his head to the side, shifting from uncertain youth to careless fop in an instant. “Is it? I told my tailor Jacobs I didn’t care what it was made of as long as it was brighter than the sun.”
His father snapped away, the censure returning to his eyes.
