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She left without a backward glance.
He watched her leave and suddenly he saw a lonely old woman. Her spine straight because she had set herself against the world.
She had suffered his father’s wrath in silence for all of those years.
Wounds that deep couldn’t be healed.
They shared the same burden, his mother and he. Shared it and lived with it so differently. He had run away. She had stayed. He’d forged a new life... literally.
She’d stayed here, and been the target of society’s scorn.
As if her departure was a signal, the remaining guests trailed behind, making their good-byes. Probably disappointed by the lack of shouting. The thin coating of civility they’d been able to maintain.
Michel and Adele stood on either side of Mari, looking stricken, and so very small.
When the last guests were gone, India turned to him. “Well that went splendidly, I think,” she said.
“Why did you invite her?”
“I didn’t think she’d actually come.”
“Did we do something wrong?” asked Adele.
“Not at all,” said Edgar. “My mother is extremely difficult to please.”
“She’s certainly... opinionated,” said Mari.
“She didn’t like us.” Adele took Michel’s hand. “She didn’t even want to meet us.”
“That’s not true, she’ll warm to you eventually,” said India. “Let me tell you a story about your grandmother. You see, she was the most beautiful girl in London, once upon a time, and so you know she has a story.”
“The most beautiful?” asked Adele.
“When she walked into a room, people wept,” said India. “She inspired hundreds of poems. A famous poet wrote a verse about her eyes, comparing them to amethysts dipped in angel’s tears, or some such. Shall I find the poem, and read it to you?”
“I’ll take them upstairs,” said Mari, quickly.
Too quickly. She didn’t want to be alone with him.
She was avoiding his eyes. Was she ashamed of what had happened in the stage box? He never wanted her to feel ashamed.
They needed to talk.
What an evening, Mari reflected, snuggled into her bed after reading to the children and tucking them in.
She’d been kissed by a duke. Propositioned by an earl. She’d stared down a dowager duchess.
Her life was changing. She was changing.
She’d left the gray walls of Underwood far behind. That silent, lonely girl who’d been beaten down by life was thoroughly gone, and in her place was something wholly new... and still forming.
Mari stretched her arms over her head, the fine linens stroking her skin.
A lady who navigated the seas of scandal and had wicked thoughts and sometimes even acted upon them. What was she guarding her virtue for, anyway?
She’d never marry. Edgar was an honorable man, but he wanted her, she knew it. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in his touch.
And she wanted him as well.
