Page 38 of Fair as a Star

“Only that I’d hoped that when you returned from Paris you would be yourself again. That you would have put all of this nonsense behind you.”

Her gaze jerked to his. The teapot clattered as she returned it to the tray. It was a miracle she didn’t drop it entirely. “What nonsense?”

Henry sank down into the leather-upholstered armchair across from her. “You’ve been unsettled. I had reason to believe it was only a temporary condition. That Paris would have remedied it. But it hasn’t improved, has it? This tendency you have to—”

“To what?”

“To become emotional.”

She stared at him, at a complete loss for words.

“You needn’t bother denying it. I had the truth of your condition from Mr. Cooper not long after you left for Paris.”

“You what?” she asked faintly.

“He called on me here at the Park last autumn. He told me all.”

Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t believe it. Surely, she must have misunderstood him somehow. “Do you mean that…you knew? All this time?”

“Naturally.”

A wave of nausea threatened to overpower her. Beryl sat back against the sofa cushion, willing it to pass. “But you never…”

He’d never asked after her. Had never made an effort to comfort her.

“You never let on,” she said.

“There was little point. Mr. Cooper informed me that, in such cases, it was best to ignore the behavior. To indulge your megrims would only have prolonged the episode.”

“Megrims? Is that what you believe was wrong with me?”

“It’s what I think, yes. Not what Cooper said. He viewed your condition with a medical eye.” Henry ran his fingers through his hair. The gesture reminded Beryl so much of Mark that she had to avert her gaze. “His suggestions for treatment were severe, and I felt, quite unnecessary given your general demeanor. You’d always been sensible enough until then.”

Sensible.

Which meant that he believed her sadness—her melancholy—was merely a result of being silly and self-indulgent. It was the very thing she’d feared all along.

“Sense has nothing to do with it,” she managed to say. “It’s an affliction, like any illness.”

“Not according to the doctors.”

She gave him a horrified look. “You’ve consulted others?”

“Not yet, but I’ve read some of the literature that Cooper provided.”

“Mr. Cooper is an unfeeling bully.” Beryl’s voice rose in long-suppressed hurt and indignation. “How could you listen to him? Why didn’t you—”

“What could I have done?” Henry demanded sharply. “Jack had just perished in Bhutan. Did you expect that I would set aside my grief for a much-loved brother in order to cheer your unaccountably low spirits? You who have everything any lady should want—health, beauty, intelligence, and, I flatter myself to add, a rather enviable fiancé?”

She felt the blood drain from her face. So this was what he thought of her? This was how he truly felt about her having left for Paris last year? “I know I let you down. For that I can only beg your pardon. But I would ask that you try to understand—”

“Let me down? You failed the first test as my future wife. It was a moment that required the very best of you. That you be that lady of quiet dignity I’d so come to admire. Instead, you were content to disappear, leaving me to deal with Jack’s death on my own. Not to mention the gossip that ensued after your departure.”

She blinked rapidly against the threat of tears. Henry had never spoken to her so harshly. Not in all the years she’d known him. “I know that. But it wasn’t done on purpose. I would never—”

“Listen to me.” Henry leaned forward in his seat. She expected him to take her hand, to offer some variety of civilized reassurance, but he made no move to touch her. “From the moment our betrothal was announced, you became an extension of my good name. Your conduct reflects on me. I know you will think me hard and unfeeling, but I’ve worked too long to redeem the Rivenhall name to have it damaged.”

His words both hurt and shamed her. And yet…she understood. She’d seen the toll it had taken on Henry to restore his family’s fortunes. Knew what it must have cost him to face the gossip alone. “I’m sorry. I won’t fail you again.”