Chapter 24

Thel tilted his crystal glass back and forth, clinking the ice inside. A fortnight had passed since he’d dismissed Olivia, and a day had not passed without him thinking about her. She’d filled his heart with joy, had taught him things about pleasure and about himself that he might not have discovered otherwise. She was brave, caring, and deserving of a far better life than the one she’d been given.

But they could not be together.

He’d allowed her personal desires to rule him once, and it had earned him nothing but heartbreak. Things might’ve been different if she’d loved him, but she had been clear on that point. She didn’t believe in love. For the sake of his household, he had to let her go.

He leaned back from the stack of papers on his desk. He had not left his office since the previous night, and the sky outside his window was bright. As he stood, his knees cracked, and his back gave a warning twinge. When he sniffed his underarms, the smell was terrible.

Perhaps it had been more than one night.

He summoned a footman and arranged for a bath. When he was clean and dressed again, he poured another measure of brandy and summoned his brother to his office.

Felix opened the door and stepped inside. “You wished to see me?”

Thel could see the satisfaction in his brother’s eyes. That was the nature of his family. They were so close that it was very difficult to keep secrets.

Except Constance. She had hidden the most important secret of her life.

None of this would have happened if Marguerite were still alive.

He felt as if someone had burned out his insides and left only ash behind. He’d done his best for his daughter but had failed time and time again. As he could not be the father she needed, she deserved a mother. A feminine hand that could guide her where he could not.

“You know why I called you,” Thel said. “You were right. It’s time for me to remarry.”

Felix gave a wide smile. “Excellent. There are several fine ladies who would suit. Do you have any preferences?”

Felix was tall and confident, with a penchant for matchmaking.

Thel waved his hand. “Her experience and breeding are all that matter. This household needs a woman who knows what she is about.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “A widow, perhaps? There are not many of those, but I can think of several who would be amenable.”

Lady Allen was a widow. She had befriended Constance, sought only to ensure his daughter’s happiness, and he had thrown her out of his house for it.

“A widow will suffice,” he said.

“Excellent,” Felix said. “There is Lady Newberry, of course, although she is a bit stern. You might prefer Lady Rothwellan…”

Thel listened halfheartedly. He didn’t care whom Felix chose to be his wife. All that mattered was that she could fulfill her marital duties and produce an heir. Beyond that, it didn’t matter what she looked like or even if she carried on her own affairs outside of their marriage.

His dreams, his very thoughts, were devoted to Olivia. Every sound was her deep laugh, every crack the sound of her heels on the floor. The sooner he married, the sooner he could put her behind him.

Or so he hoped.

###

Thel put his chin in his hand and leaned his elbow on the padded arm of the upholstered settee in his mother’s sitting room, trying not to think about how much he felt like a child preparing to be disciplined, and not a five-and-forty-year-old man. He was not in the habit of spending his mornings being lectured, but the note his mother had placed on his desk had left no room for argument. His family was already coming apart. He could not afford any additional conflict. Thus, he waited.

“I cannot abide this,” his mother said as she dabbed her face with a piece of cloth. “Have I taught you nothing, Thel? You cannot simply pick a woman to marry at random!”

Of course that was why she’d summoned him. Felix had informed her of his intention to remarry. His brother had a terrible habit of not keeping his mouth shut.

“I am not choosing at random, Mother. I am carefully weighing the benefits of each candidate. I am not interested in locking myself into a spiteful marriage, as my brother did.”

His brother had had set his sights on Lady Celina the very day she’d debuted, claiming she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Thel had tried to talk Felix out of marrying the woman so quickly, but his brother had refused to listen.

His mother shook her head. “Your brother is a fool. If he had truly known his own heart, he would not have pursued Celina with such haste.” She picked up a framed portrait of his father on the table and smiled. “Love does not flower in an instant like a night-blooming rose, my dear. You must tend the bud of your love and allow it to grow, showering it with affection.” She put the portrait down. “Do not look at me with such sad eyes. You have a chance at a life your brother could only imagine.” She sniffed. “He would never admit it, of course. He is as stubborn as your father.”

Thel clenched his hands in his lap. “You and Father did not have to wait.”

His mother put her hand on his back. “Oh, Thel. I should have told you years ago, but your father insisted we maintain the fairy tale. My marriage was arranged.”

Thel felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest. His whole life he had believed that his parents had fallen in love over a whirlwind weekend, that they had married within days of meeting and then had a fulfilling life filled with laughter and children.

He had never questioned the story, even as his brothers had teased him. He had clung to the fairy tale throughout his adolescence and his courtship of Marguerite. Finding out that it was not true made something deep inside him crack, and then shatter.

“I should have arranged Constance’s marriage from the start,” he said.

His mother grabbed his cheeks. “Listen here, Thel. I will not have you acting the fool. Your brother has done more than enough of that.” She dropped her hands. “I despised your father in the beginning. He was a cold man. The only time he revealed his true self was in our bed.”

Thel cleared his throat. “Mother, I would rather not hear—”

She chuckled. “Yes, yes, a man does not want to know of his mother’s bed play. I understand. The point remains valid. Your father and I fell in love over time. Friendship blossomed between us first, before turning to affection, and finally love. The story I gave you was true, although accelerated. It was not days, but months. Your father slowly revealed more of himself to me, and I did the same.” She sighed. “If love could be found so easily, there would be far fewer matchmakers operating in London. Much like that woman you were involved with. What became of her?”

“I dismissed her.”

His mother’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“I didn’t want her to disrupt the family.” Before his mother could argue, he barged ahead. “Your story only emphasizes that I should not allow Constance to marry Mr. Dawson. Like Felix, when the attraction wanes, she will not be able to sustain her happiness. She’ll be trapped. Is that not what you meant?”

His mother sniffed. “My marriage was arranged, and it ended happily for me. But that does not mean all such marriages are successful. It takes complementary personalities, trust, and friendship. A successful matchmaker looks beneath the surface to the core of a person. However, I do not believe Constance is ready to marry. She must have time to explore herself before she commits to a man.”

“Perhaps I was too impatient,” he said. “She should not have had her debut so soon.”

He had been so focused on securing Constance’s future and fulfilling his promise to his wife that he had not considered she was not ready. Once again, he’d allowed his own desires to cloud his judgment.

His mother snorted. “It’s a miracle. You are finally coming to your senses.”

He slouched on the couch. “I thought I was doing right by her.”

Constance had wanted so desperately to grow up that he had been unable to resist her demands. He should have insisted on a gradual introduction into society. Instead, he had allowed her to dive in without proper education or training. It was no wonder she had floundered.

“I failed her,” he said.

His mother groaned. “You are a troublesome child, Thellusson. You take the weight of the world on your shoulders. I am as much to blame as you. I recognized the signs but did not interfere, even when it became apparent she was corresponding with someone.” Her expression softened. “Love grows in many ways, my son.”

A rap on the door interrupted them.

“Come in,” his mother said.

Constance entered, a frown on her face. Mrs. Quill stood behind her, and it was clear from the older woman’s posture that it was only her presence that was keeping Constance from fleeing.

“Hello, Grandmother,” Constance said. She did not meet Thel’s gaze, nor acknowledge that he was present.

The duchess smiled. “My dear Constance. You wound your father.”

Constance’s frown deepened. “I do not wish to speak to him. He sent Lady Allen away.”

He sank into the couch. In his attempt to save his daughter from heartbreak, he’d turned her against him.

Mrs. Quill pushed Constance forward. The girl staggered into the room, then perched on the edge of a seat across from her grandmother.

“I have discussed the matter of your marriage with your father,” the duchess said. She picked up the teapot and poured a measure into a cup, then passed it to Constance. The girl accepted it gracefully and held it above the saucer. She did not toss it back in one swoop, or dollop it with sugar, or grab a cookie from the tray on the table.

Where had his little girl gone? He did not recognize the woman before him. He was so used to seeing her as a child. She had grown up when he had not been looking.

The duchess drank her tea and then picked up a biscuit and took a bite. Throughout, Constance remained silent.

“Very good,” the duchess said finally. She looked at Thel. “I was remiss in not educating my son in the way of women.”

Thel cringed but recognized that it was his turn. “Constance, I will not give my blessing for you to marry Mr. Dawson.”

Constance’s fingers turned pale on her teacup, but she did not speak. That was already an improvement over the pouting and whining he’d expected.

“Do you at least understand why I do not approve?” he asked. This was the chance she had to reveal if she had learned anything from Olivia’s lessons. Could she separate herself from her situation and analyze it critically, or had Dawson corrupted her mind so thoroughly that she was blind to his flaws? If so, then Thel would have to take more drastic action. He was prepared to spirit them to the new world if it came to that.

Constance stared into her tea. “John makes me feel like I am the most important and beautiful woman in the world.” She jutted her chin forward. “He might not be perfect, but I don’t want to give up on him. He’s already agreed to wait until I am one-and-twenty.”

He wanted to shout at her that the fortune Dawson claimed was a falsehood, but she had to discover the truth on her own. Otherwise, she might believe he was manipulating the facts, or her mind. Her acceptance to wait was a stalemate, one he would accept.

“That is sufficient,” he said.

Constance smiled, and he saw some of the girl she had been in her eyes. The girl who’d danced in the flower beds and challenged the staff to duels with brooms instead of swords. He hadn’t seen that girl since they’d arrived in London, unless Olivia had been around. She’d drawn the fun out of Constance, and out of him, too. He missed that, missed seeing Olivia smile and following along with her whims. She was the most remarkable woman he had ever met.

And he had chased her from his house.

“Perhaps we should discuss your prospects next, Father?” Constance asked.

His mother nodded. “Yes, we should. He has made a rather foolish mistake.”

“Quite right,” Constance said. “I believe it is time I make decisions on his behalf, as he has been doing for me.”

He looked back and forth between them. “Are you referring to Lady Allen? Wait, no.” He laughed. “Of course you are. What else would you be talking about? I must agree. I was foolish.”

The clouds cleared in his mind. It didn’t matter that Olivia did not love him. His mother had not loved his father when they married, but they had developed friendship and affection, which had bloomed into love. He could have that, too.

If she was willing to give him another chance.

###

Thel should have been on his way to Olivia’s house, but fear kept him trapped in his seat. What if Olivia refused to see him? He didn’t want her simply in his bed. He wanted to wake up every morning to see her smile, to dance with Constance, to pretend to be knights or princesses or whatever struck their fancy. Marguerite’s death had gouged a hole in his heart that had never properly healed, but he felt ready to move on.

“Thel?”

Thel jerked upright. Felix’s wife stood in the doorway with her hands clasped at her waist.

“Celina,” he said. “Is something the matter?”

She had never come to his office before. His mind immediately jumped to the worst possibility, and he rushed forward to meet her. “Is it the children? Has something happened to Alanna or Bennett?”

She shook her head. “No. I…I’ve come to confess.” She removed a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her cheeks, although he saw no tears.

“Confess what?” he asked.

“It’s all my doing.” Her chin trembled. “I-I wrote the letters. I used your title to convince the London Evening Standard to print them. I told the police that Lady Allen murdered her husband.”

He felt as if she had punched him in the chest. “You did what ? Why?”

She dropped her gaze to the floor. “The Earl of Allen and I were in love.”

“You and the earl,” he said slowly. The news was such a shock that he was having trouble putting together sentences. He imagined Celina hunched over her writing desk, writing furiously, a scowl across her face. Olivia had been so sure it was Dawson, and he had believed her.

“Then who—” he started before Celina began speaking again.

“Felix is the one who sent Mr. Dawson after your daughter. My husband promised Constance’s dowry to Mr. Dawson in exchange for some”—she threw up her hands—“business deal. I haven’t the faintest idea of the details. He is the one who convinced all the other matchmakers to turn you away. Now, if you will excuse me, brother.” She tilted her head up. “I have one final article left to commission.” Then she spun and left him standing in the middle of his office, his mind whirling.

Felix.

He had been so secure in his leadership over his family that he had failed to consider that his own brother was acting against him. But the blame could not be solely placed on Felix. Thel had dismissed his brother’s objections, hoping that Constance would find the same happiness that her parents and grandparents had found. Once again, he had allowed his own desires to outweigh the will of his brothers, and the result had been a disaster.

It would not happen again.

He would find Felix and set things right between them, then he would go to Olivia’s house and apologize for how he had treated her. If she was willing to be his wife, they would be married as soon as he could arrange it. He already had the special license he’d procured before he’d asked her to marry him the first time. All she had to do was say ‘yes.’