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“You are making a mess of yourself,” I said.
“And now a mess of you.” He took my hand and wiped the foamy finger back over his shaved cheek, and my pulse jumped. “I have missed you, Felicity.”
I had missed him. “You cannot adequately comprehend how pleased I am that you are home.”
A look of mild surprise crossed over his face, but I could not credit it.
“Did you think it otherwise?” I asked.
“I do not know what to expect from you. I worried that by kissing you I had ruined whatever friendship we’d begun to form.”
“That far from ruined anything, James.”
“I am glad to hear it.” His foam-covered face prevented me from showing him precisely how I felt, but I wished I could have.
The door opened and James’s valet appeared, holding a dinner coat. “I will leave you to finish readying for dinner,” I said, taking a step back.
His hand dropped from mine, and it was with herculean effort that I did not give his torso another appreciative sweep—though I did hazard a quick peek. I was only mortal.
Fanny awaited me near the dressing table, and I closed the adjoining door and took my seat. The smile playing at her lips was evidence that she had probably listened to my conversation with my husband, and I felt the rosy hue that appeared on my cheeks in the looking glass.
“I liked what you did with my hair last night,” I said. “It was much more to my taste than an excess of loops or plaits.”
“Of course, ma’am. Though, might I recommend just one plait? I will keep it small, I vow.”
“Very well.”
Fanny worked on my hair, and by the time she was finished, I decided I could trust her. The first few days and their intricate designs had likely been her attempts to discern my preferences, for tonight’s style was perfection. Much like last night, my hair was gathered high upon my crown with a plait circling the mass of curls. I straightened my gown and paced to the door.
James had not asked me to wait for him, so I determined to go downstairs and await him in the antechamber.
I took the shawl from my bed and slipped it over my shoulders, then raised my head. I would not allow Lady Edith’s poor opinions of me to ruin my evening.
Fanny opened the door so she might go down to her own dinner, and I followed her into the corridor and paused. James leaned against the opposite wall, his arms crossed patiently as he waited for me. His head was turned, and the cut of his clean-shaven jaw was shadowed by the light thrown from the candle sconce on the wall beside him. My belly flipped over, and a pleasant sensation ran through my chest.
Was it normal to feel this eager to see one’s husband after leaving their side less than an hour before? I wasn’t sure. But I had never before felt such a thrill at seeing a man in a white cravat and black dinner coat, and I had seen that time and again, so I knew this was different. The way I felt for James was different.
Oh, dear. I was falling in love with my husband.
The realization shook me, and I stopped midway to reaching his side. He pushed away from the wall and offered me his arm, and I swallowed hard before taking it and allowing him to lead me downstairs. We did not speak on our way, which was a blessing, for I did not know if I would be able to say anything of value.
If I allowed myself to love James, it would put me at a disadvantage. It would hurt more when he remained nothing but a friend to me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to live that way.
We reached the antechamber, and the rest of the family was already gathered. Lady Edith looked between Benedict and James with concern, a frown marring her lovely face.
“We are all gathered,” she said quietly. “How is Dorothea? What is Benedict not telling me?”
James released me and moved to his mother’s side. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “It is lovely to see you as well, Mother.”
She reached for his arm, but he’d already moved away, going to each of the two doors in the small room and closing them. He leaned out of the one that connected to the dining room and spoke softly to the footman likely posted on the other side of the wall.
This must be serious, indeed, and Lady Edith surmised as much by the worry continuing to grow on her brow.
Henry sat in a chair, his hands on the armrests, and unease dipping his mouth into a frown. He must already know what the brothers were going to say. But if he did, why could James not have told me upstairs?
Benedict leaned against the empty hearth, light from the candles on the mantel washing over his curly, chaotic hair. “We went to the school, as requested,” he finally said when James had closed both doors. “But Thea was not there.”
Lady Edith’s displeasure turned to confusion. “Has she gone ahead to Lord Claverley’s—”
