Alexander nodded once more, his eyes patiently encouraging.
“And now she will manage yours,” he said.
Marcus hesitated.
“But what if she regrets it?” he asked. “What if the practical advantages are not enough?”
Alexander frowned, then sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“She had the choice to remain with her brother,” he said. “You saw how efficiently she ran his house. And it is quite evident how dearly they love one another. He would not have cast her off.”
Marcus nodded again, though he could not find convincing reassurance in his friend’s words.
“No,” he said. “He said as much.”
Alexander opened his hands in a gentle gesture that told Marcus he felt his point had been rather obviously proven.
“Then why did she leave?” he asked. “Why agree to marry a near-stranger, to enter an unfamiliar household, and take on allthe duties of a countess? There must be something more in it for her than linens and precedence at table.”
Marcus stared at the hearth again, then said quietly, “Mayhap she values discovery—or prefers to build something of her own, rather than remain in the comfort of what is already ordered. During her visit here last week, she paused before the Roman pottery case and began asking questions that caught me entirely off guard. She sees connections I had overlooked. That day, she observed that the wear upon one jug’s base suggested repetitive grinding—not storage, as I had assumed. I consulted the excavation notes afterwards. She was right. And the conclusion alters one’s understanding of the villa’s entire domestic labour structure.”
Alexander’s mouth curved in a faint smile.
“Then she is a woman who can challenge you—and that is no small thing. Such a wife is hardly a liability, Marcus.
Marcus shook his head.
“Of that, I have no doubt at all,” he said. “My concern is her contentment—or rather, her lack of it, should she find none here.”
Alexander gave Marcus another kind smile.
“She is not a fool,” he said. “She knew precisely what she accepted. There must be something of contentment in the deal for her. Perhaps, she simply enjoys keeping things ordered.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The fire gave a muted crackle, barely audible beneath the ticking of the mantel clock. Marcus could hear the distant murmur of servants in the hallway, the echo of activity preparing for the ceremony.
“She asked me about the Society’s visit,” Marcus said after a moment. “About how many guests to expect. She had already considered the arrangement of bedchambers. She requested the list of dietary restrictions from Mrs Thornberry.”
Alexander chuckled.
“She had barely arrived when she asked for the guest list,” he said with a short nod. “I saw her with it myself.”
Marcus blinked, recalling how confident and poised Catherine Beaumont had been.
“She said she would need a full week to prepare menus,” he said.
Alexander made the open-handed gesture again.
“Then she means to make it a success,” he said.
Marcus sighed. He understood his friend’s logic, and it was sound. But could Alexander not see cause for his concern for Miss Beaumont’s—Catherine’s—emotions, as well?
“I am still afraid she will regret it,” he said insistently.
Alexander stood.
“Then your task is to give her no cause,” he said.
Marcus gave a short, mirthless laugh.
