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She laughs at the state of me before passing me a napkin, and the sound warms my heart. “The course was very…um…informative. We shall see. And I made some friends. Especially Tabitha.”
“That’s great.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her take a delicate bite of her toastie as she deliberates over something. Her napkin is neatly laid on her lap, pointing the correct way, and it makes me smile. She’s every inch a lady.
“I think they will help.”
“The lessons?”
“Yes. I want to prove to your mother and people like her that I am worthy of you and your…your legacy.”
Her softly spoken statement is a gut punch, sending shock waves to my soul.
Fuck a duck.
Rowena must have said something truly nasty and scathing last week, and my poor wife has taken my mother’s poison to heart. I remember what she said when we were both with her in our drawing room, which was bad enough.
You need someone of your own class, someone English who understands the pressures of the title and your position in society. Someone who can help you fulfill the role you were born to and help protect our legacy.
The antagonism that I’ve come to associate with Rowena—that’s been a part of my life since she walked out on us so long ago—simmers in my chest, and I grip the steering wheel harder. The resentment is my familiar—never really far away.
“You are more than worthy of me. If anything…” I mutter, trying to keep a handle on my temper. “You are worthy of everything. Never think anything less than that, please.” I offer her an apologetic smile. “You were on the receiving end of some dreadful diatribe from Rowena. I can only apologize.”
Alessia sighs. “She was upset, Maxim. She thinks you married beneath you…a foreigner, a woman with nothing, and she was there to confess her…um…”
“Sins?” I sneer.
“She was there to put your mind…um…at ease. You should hear her side of Kit’s story. Sometimes women find themselves in”—she swallows—“difficult situations.”
I inhale sharply. My sweet, compassionate wife reminding me of the brutal truth of the world. And she would know. Her awful travails brought her to me.
It blows my mind.
My sweet girl. Defending my mother.
I clear my crowded throat. “How’s your toastie?” I ask because we’re in difficult territory. I don’t want to feel any compassion for my mother.
She left us.
She was cruel to my wife.
“Delicious,” she whispers, and another glance at her tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing.
Deflecting. Away from the sore spot that is my Mama.
Mate.
“You are too kind to my mother. But I’ll think about it,” I mutter, and because I don’t want to discuss the Mothership, I turn on the sound system.
At just after five in the evening, the sun low in the sky, I turn right at the North Gatehouse and drive over the cattle grid and onto the northern driveway of the estate. Alessia leans forward to take in the rolling north pasture on our right. We’ve not been this way before.
“You have cows!”
“Cattle. Yes. Organic.”
“They are so pretty!”
I laugh. “They’re Devons.”
Alessia casts a look at me, her brow furrowed.
“The breed. Of cattle.”
“Oh.”
“You can meet them later.”
Alessia grins. “Still no goats.”
I laugh. “No goats.”
She looks ahead, and gasps as Tresyllian Hall comes into view. The magnificence of this house never fails to impress. It’s always a moment for me as well. There’s a sudden tightness in my chest. I’m bringing my wife to what will be a home for her, for our children, and hopefully for their children.
Fuck.
Dude. Steady.
That’s a weighty thought.
Accompanied by weighty emotions.
Enough.
I shake it off. This place has been my haven, and I hope that Alessia will be happy here too.
I round the drive, run over the second cattle grid that rattles our teeth, and steer us around the old stables to the kitchen door where I park the Discovery.
I switch off the ignition and turn to Alessia.
“Welcome home, wife.”
Her smile lights up her face. “Welcome home, my lord.”
The kitchen door opens, and Danny stands on the threshold, clasping her hands in excitement, her joy writ large in her sparkling blue eyes and beaming smile. Behind her, Jensen and Healey, Kit’s beloved red setters, come barreling out onto the gravel, curious to see who’s arrived.
I clamber out of the car, and the dogs jump up, delighted to see me, insisting on some attention. “Hello, boys. Hello!” I ruffle them both behind the ears. And they turn their enthusiastic attention and demands on Alessia when she comes to stand beside me. She pats them both, a little more reticent than me.
“Welcome home, my lord and my lady!” Danny gushes.
Danny gushing. It doesn’t happen often.
She grabs Alessia’s hand. “I am so pleased to see you again, my lady.”
“Thank you, Danny,” Alessia says. “Please, call me Alessia.”
“Alessia is fine, Danny. For heaven’s sake.” And I give her a quick kiss in welcome. “It’s good to see you.”
