Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

" S he is still angry with me," Thalia sighed.

The woman walking beside her nodded sympathetically. "You are only doing your best."

Feeling as though her limbs were twice as heavy as they should be, Thalia forced herself forward. The promenade through the park had been a lovely idea in theory – particularly the opportunity to see her friend – but Thalia's heart was simply not in it.

When she remained silent, Nora smiled gently. "Thalia, sisters fight. It is simply the way of life."

"But not like this. We do not fight like this." The all-too-familiar dread bubbled up inside her. "I, I fear that she has a point. I have been smothering her. I am not her parent, and I should not act as such. But I am worried for her. Should she end up like me…"

There was no need to say it. One of the sisters needed to be married. There was no way that their father's estate could support both of them for much longer. When Thalia was old enough to be presented to society, the family could spare neither the money nor the time to try to make her a good match. So, giving up her hopes of marriage, Thalia had been forced to focus on her prettier, more eligible sister, trying to make a match for her instead.

"I want her to be happy," she continued. "There is nothing that I want more. But she does not seem to understand that love is not something that may be guaranteed. By getting married, even without love, she will at least be securing her own stability. Ensuring that she is provided for. If she does not marry, then she will most certainly be unhappy. Unhappy and unloved," she added before she quite knew what she was saying. She paused. Was she still talking about Selina?

The women continued to walk, Nora kindly giving Thalia the space to spew forth the thoughts that had been consuming her over the last several weeks. Thoughts which she felt she could share with neither her sister nor her father.

"Still, whether or not she believes me to be right, Selina is quite angry with me. I can't stand it when we fight. And this is the first time she has refused to speak to me following a disagreement."

Thalia winced as she thought about the other night after they had arrived home from the theater. Selina had been furious with her for placing herself between her and Benedict. And, given that she was still angry that Thalia had all but commanded her to stop seeing the duke, Selina was now hardly speaking to her.

"Is that why we are stopping into the dressmakers?" Nora asked after a moment, a gentle smile on her lips. "Is it an apology?"

Allowing herself a sad, self-conscious smile, Thalia nodded. "You know me too well."

"I know that you have a good heart. And that you would do anything to protect your family."

"And what of your family?" Thalia asked, eager to move on from the dismal subject.

As Nora smiled, Thalia felt her own spirits rise. No one deserved the happiness that Nora had found more than Nora herself. "We are well," Nora replied, still smiling. She raised her head, eyes roaming the sky above. "Damien is perfect. And Samuel has been a far better father than I had ever imagined. I have seen a tenderness in him, when he spends time with Damien, that I had not seen in anyone." She hesitated. "Though…"

"What is it?"

"I do not wish to luxuriate in my happiness when I know that you are struggling," Nora admitted. Nor do I wish to lose our friendship. I fear that, since our marriage, Samuel and I have spent most of our time together, sparing little for our acquaintances. We have been neglecting our friends," she admitted with a sad smile. Then, she let out a rueful laugh. "Why, the other day, Samuel joined a friend at the gentleman's club for the first time in nearly a month. We have had His Grace for supper, of course, but it was the first outing that Samuel had with the man in a long while."

Thalia's chest grew tight. "You mean, the Duke of Ravenwood?"

"Yes. He is a great friend of Samuel's. You have been introduced to him, have you not?"

Nodding, Thalia swallowed the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. "He is intent on courting Selina," she finally admitted, trying to keep her voice as even as she could.

"Indeed?" Nora looked truly surprised. This was news to her.

"Yes. Selina is overjoyed."

"But you are not?" Nora guessed, watching Thalia closely.

She had already given too much away. But Thalia could not help but scoff at the memory of the duke's self-satisfied grin as he offered Selina his arm at the theater, moments after whispering such lascivious taunts in Thalia's ear. "He is utterly infuriating."

Nora's eyes widened. "Truly? What has he said or done to make you think so?"

"You do not agree? You do not find him vexing?"

"I have never had cause to think ill of him," Nora mused, frowning. "Granted, both he and my husband have both experienced days of debauchery," she added carefully. "I have always known of Samuel's past. But my husband believes His Grace to be an honest, if not sometimes mischievous, man. Like Samuel, when married, I would not be surprised if His Grace abandoned his more unprincipled ways."

"Indeed," she continued, shaking her head, "like my husband, I imagine the gossip that surrounds him in the ton is blown quite out of proportion."

"I do not share your amiable opinion of him." Thalia clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides. "Samuel has indeed proven himself to be a good man. But the Duke of Ravenwood, I believe, is every bit the rake that people say he is."

Nora continued to look perplexed. "Thalia, has he given you cause to think so disparagingly of him? Has he mistreated Selina?"

How could Thalia answer that with the truth? How could she begin to tell her friend exactly what the duke had murmured into her ear on more than one occasion?

"He has not harmed Selina's good name." She began carefully. "But I do not trust him not to take advantage of her if given the chance."

Remaining quiet, Nora seemed to think this over for a little while. "I understand your caution, Thalia. And I do not disagree with your desire to protect Selina. But she is a smart young woman. She sees and understands more than you think she does."

Thalia flinched at that, wondering, briefly, if Selina had noticed Benedict's behavior during the play. But she quickly dismissed it as nonsense. Selina was indeed a smart woman, but she still lived in a world of her own. There was much she was ignorant of when it came to her dreams of romance.

"I would not judge him too harshly," Nora continued. "Even my own husband had a questionable reputation when I first met him." Smiling at the memory, Nora chuckled. "There is more to a man than the fa?ade which he presents to society. There is more behind his actions than you may guess."

Thalia doubted that. She sighed. "There is something else," she admitted sadly. The letter had only arrived this morning. Thalia had hardly even managed to wrap her mind around the devastation that the invitation may wreak.

"Oh?"

"His Grace has invited Selina, and our father, and me to a house party. We are to stay at his manor for several days."

Nora hesitated. "You do not think –?"

"I know it," Thalia finished, not needing to hear the end of her friend's query. "It is an excuse to spend as much time with my sister as possible."

"Well, that shall be your chance, too, to get to know his character," Nora added hopefully. "To assure yourself that his intentions with her are honorable."

Watching her friend for a moment, Thalia realized that she was ruining what should have been a perfectly enjoyable outing. "I fear I have once more soured our conversation," she admitted with a sad smile. "Come, we are near the dressmakers. Will you help me find something for my sister?"

Smiling, Nora nodded. "Of course."

Benedict paused in the hall. His mother was in the drawing room. He could hear the rustle of parchment as she turned the pages of her book.

The duke had intended to pass through the room on his way to his study but now he was debating taking the long way round. It was humiliating even considering such a thing; embarrassing that he would inconvenience himself to avoid his mother. But he knew what would happen if he so much as passed through the drawing room. His mother would stop him, interrogating him as she did about his future and reminding him of his duties to the family name and the estate.

He was loathe to engage in such a tedious conversation, especially at present when there were so many more important, pressing tasks which needed tending to.

No, his mother would not deter him. She needed to learn that he was the head of this house. He was the duke. And he knew how to run his estate, no thanks to her.

But even as he drew himself up, a crash from down the hall stopped him.

His mother was instantly at the entryway. "What was that? Has Roberts broken something? Really, that man –"

"I shall handle it, Mother," Benedict replied sternly, cutting her off.

Though she narrowed her eyes at him, she fell silent.

Stalking down the hall, he passed into the library where he found his butler, Roberts, hurriedly sweeping up a broken vase.

"I, I beg your pardon, Your Grace," the older man stammered, seeing Benedict enter the room. "It is entirely my fault. Please take the cost of this out of my pay."

Benedict could tell, by the quick glance that Roberts threw over the duke's shoulder, that Benedict was not the only one plagued by his mother's presence in the manor. Roberts was, no doubt, waiting for Marina to rush in, reprimanding him for his carelessness.

The duke sighed. "Nonsense," he murmured, stooping to pick up a piece of the broken porcelain near his foot. As he handed it to his butler, he noticed just how wearied the man was looking. He was a hard worker and had been ever since the day he had come to the estate.

This man had seen Benedict as a young, wretched, hopeless youth. He had watched the young duke struggle against his new burden of responsibility, assisting here and there in quiet humility, even though he had no reason to go out of his way to help him.

Roberts had been there for Benedict when Marina had not. Had acted as far more of a parent than she ever had. Benedict was not about to allow his mother to reprimand such a man.

"Are you looking after yourself?" Benedict asked, watching as Roberts stooped again to collect another large piece of the broken vase.

"Sir?" The man straightened, frowning in confusion.

"You look terrible," the duke teased.

Roberts chuckled. "Age will do that to a man, I suppose. Time comes for us all, Your Grace."

"Though it is a worrisome reality," Benedict replied, "I think that is not the entire truth. I think you are working too hard."

As the butler opened his mouth to argue, Benedict shook his head. "When was the last day you had off?" he asked. "Properly," he added, seeing the look of protest in Roberts's eye. "Where you did not just happen to tidy a little here or there, or tend to something urgent that ‘would only take a moment or two'?" Benedict raised an eyebrow as he parroted the phrase that he had all too often heard the butler use to justify overworking himself.

"It…has been a while," the man replied hesitantly.

"I thought as much. Take the rest of today off." Benedict turned toward the entrance of the room. Stopping, he glanced over his shoulder. "And tomorrow. We will have a full house over the next few days, and I want to see that you are properly prepared to attend to our guests."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Roberts bobbed his head in gratitude.

"And if my mother gives you any trouble," he sighed, turning away again. "Send her to me."

Thalia was tired by the end of her outing with Nora, but her day was far from over. Secreting her sister's new dress up into her rooms (she would present it to Selina when the time was right), Thalia returned downstairs and made her way into the study.

She could not remember the last time she had seen her father here. She seemed to recall her father throwing up his hands in dismay once, asking Thalia if she could make any sense of the numbers on the page before him. She had done her best to help and, seeing how well his daughter handled the finances, Jerome had declared that Thalia had better handle such things from then on.

So, the study had become hers as the responsibility of running the estate fell to Thalia.

Today, she needed to go over their ledgers. A process she always dreaded, as it was tedious in the extreme, but one she knew had to be done.

She had heard Selina moving about in her rooms when Thalia had been upstairs and, briefly, Thalia wondered what it might be like to be in her younger sister's position. To be so carefree. So free of the burdens that the family had placed upon its eldest child.

Then, reminding herself that it was for Selina that she did such things, Thalia forced herself to get to work.

She pulled the ledgers out and laid them on the desk. Settling into the chair she tried to take stock of the situation. But her mind would not cooperate. There were too many worries buzzing around inside, making it difficult to concentrate on just one.

With a groan, she put her head in her hands. For the first time in a long time, she wondered what things might be like if her mother were still alive.

It was not a fantasy that Thalia often allowed herself. How could she? She would never get anything done if she allowed herself to feel sorry for her sad situation. Besides, many were far worse off than she. She would be an ingrate to complain about what she had.

Still, the small child within Thalia could not help but look back in time, to the day her childhood was stripped away. The day her mother had died. And the day that Thalia had stepped up and taken control of a quickly disintegrating family.

Still cradling her head in her hands, Thalia thought she heard the front door to the manor open and close. She was far enough down the hall that all she could make out were low voices.

It was probably her father, returning from a visit to his new colt. Goodness knew he spent enough time out in the stables already. If only he could spend just a little of it here, helping her manage things…

The latch on the study door clicked open. Expecting to find Mr. Poulter standing there, Thalia did not bother glancing up. "Was there something you needed?" she asked distractedly. She did not particularly want the man to see her in her emotional state. Nor did she have much patience for whatever message from her father that Mr. Poulter was inevitably carrying. What did her father need now?

She noted, sadly, that Mr. Poulter had forgotten to knock again. He seemed to be forgetting a lot of things these days. But she would not dare dismiss him. Not only because they could not afford someone to replace him, but she simply did not have the heart.

When the butler did not reply, Thalia frowned and glanced up.

Her breath caught in her throat. It was not Mr. Poulter who now stood in the doorway, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Far from it.

"What do I need?" mused the newcomer with a devious grin. "That depends. What exactly are you offering?"