“That day at the police station,” she said, gathering her courage, “I treated you horribly. My papa’s death and the truth about him were a terrible shock. I denied the truth. But that’s not an excuse for the awful things I said to you. I haven’t apologised yet.”
“I don’t want your apology.” He sounded offended, even hurt. “I don’t care about your apology.”
“What do you want then?” It came out more bitter than she liked.
He gave her one of his soul-searching stares. “I want you to be happy.”
“I don’t think I can be happy. Not as I was before the tragedy.” Her voice cracked. “One needs to practise happiness in order to be happy, and I haven’t exercised being happy in a long time. I didn’t have the energy.”
He took her hand in a tender gesture that surprised her. “You say that because you endured years of hardship. That life is over. If you want to. If you let me.”
He withdrew his hand and didn’t press her for an answer, which she appreciated because she hadn’t decided yet what to do with herself. Maybe she was too proud, but if she could rebuild her life with her own devices, she would.
She pondered her next words carefully. “You must admit that your generosity towards me comes mostly from your guilt. That’s why I’m reluctant to accept it.”
“It’s not guilt. I understand what it means to live on the edge of death and desperation. If anything, you should ask yourself if it’s your anger towards me that prevents you from accepting my help.”
She pressed her lips together. Nonsense. She’d accepted his help, had she not? She wasn’t angry with him. Not anymore.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the trip. She used the silence to collect herself or try to. The carriage lurched to a stop in front of the gleaming Rochefort Teahouse. She had only heard about the luxurious tea parlour where the members of Parliament and the higher echelon of society met regularly. They said the Rochefort was where every important decision in the empire was made; the discussions at Parliament were a formality.
Keith helped her out of the carriage, taking her hand gently. Tension still darkened his face, but she had no idea why he was still bothered. She’d done everything he’d asked. Well, aside from marrying him.
She closed her eyes for a moment. If she wanted to retrieve what was hers, she had to start the show and be a convincing wife.
The Rochefort lived up to its reputation. Elegant but not ostentatious. Imposing but not overwhelming. The white walls shone so much she wondered how many people worked to keep them clean from the coal dust that covered everything in London. Her shoes sank into the plush carpet covering the marble steps to the entrance. Uniformed servers bowed at her passage, and she nearly stopped to look around to see whom they bowed to.
Keith thrust out his chest, his arm tensing under her hand. “Where is that bloody count?”
“You’re too nervous.”
He fiddled with his silk cravat. “I’ve never felt at ease among these people. I might have acquired a title, but I’m a stableboy at heart.” He gave her his secret boyish smile that caused her to shiver and brought her back to those years when she and Keith read under the sycamore tree. “I have to thank you for having taught me how to read. That was the beginning of my success.”
“Which includes catching the Fenians.” She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. Stupid, stupid mouth.
He tensed further and led her to a table at the end of the hall.
She tugged at his arm. “I’m sorry. That was an uncalled-for remark. I didn’t mean it in that way. It came out wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter.” It sounded like the opposite. He held a chair for her before sitting in front of her.
“I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention.”
“I’m all right.”
“Keith—”
“Don’t worry. Please choose your order.”
She didn’t press the matter. If he didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t pester him. She focused her attention on the menu. The list of types of tea and delicacies was shocking for two reasons—the variety and the ridiculously high prices.
“Eight shillings for a cup of Earl Grey?” she half-whispered, half-hissed, lowering the menu. “I could rent a nice room for two weeks for that price.”
“The king’s tea is one pound per cup.”
“Ridiculous.”
“It’s worth it. Don’t you want to try it?”
