knew you’d recognized the bond between you. It was clear to me from your first meeting!”
Ashart looked at Genova as if this had been a plot. “Our first meeting, Thalia, was less than a day ago.”
“But it can happen like that! It was so with my dearest Richard, and I have always regretted proceeding at the tempo of propriety. For then, you know, we would have had a little time as man and wife. Indeed, the whole pattern of our fates might have been different.”
Genova went to her. “Thalia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d lost a lover.”
“It was a long time ago, dear. A lifetime ago. I hope to be reunited with Richard after death. But the Bible says that in heaven we do not grow old.” She looked up at Genova, brow furrowed. “What will he think of me now?”
Genova knew then why Thalia dressed in a youthful style, but couldn’t think of anything to say except, “With God, all things are possible.”
Thalia chuckled. “Apparently that is what dear Beowulf says—‘With a Malloren, all things are possible.’ Naughty boy. But I was touched when his grandfather named his London development Marlborough Square. Richard was a great admirer of Marlborough.”
Tangled in familiar confusion, Genova looked to the marquess for help but saw only hard-held patience.
“And now God’s omnipotence is proved by your finding each other! But”—Thalia waggled a finger at both of them—“it was not clever to behave like that before the vows are said. I will leave you here for a minute or two, Genova, but no longer. I remember the passions of youthful ardor. There is no reason for you to delay the wedding, but until the vows are said, you must behave yourselves.”
As she returned to the bedroom, Genova thought she heard her say, “A Christmas wedding. How nice….”
She turned to Ashart, who seemed at this moment to be the only other sane person in the universe. He walked to the window and flung back the curtains. Dawn was now a bloody band on the horizon.
“Swear if you wish,” she said. “I’ve lived on board ship.”
He laughed. It was short, but it was a laugh, and it released some of the tension. “So I gather from your imprecations when your embroidery frame broke.” He turned to her. “Is your work damaged?”
She looked at the frame, a thing awkwardly limp like a broken bird. “Only a little hole and some pulled threads. I should be able to conceal them.” She looked up at him again. “My lord, what are we to do? Thalia
saw
us! How did she see us?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I assume our fall woke her and she came to see what had happened. Then she returned to her room, leaving us to our ‘passion,’ perhaps with the door ajar out of concern for you.”
A frown lingered in his eyes that was more than annoyance at the situation.
“I could not have arranged for your friends to interrupt us,” she pointed out.
“Did I say you had? And they are no friends of mine.”
“At least you know them. I’d never seen them before! That means they can’t know who I am—” But then she groaned. “Thalia. Do you think she really believes we are in love?”
“Oh, yes. In many ways she has a childlike view of the world.”
Genova wasn’t so sure. Thalia’s eccentricities clearly grew out of her lost love, but Genova had thought for some time that the old lady acted the child to get what she wanted. But why should Thalia want her great-nephew to make such a poor match? Merely to secure a good whist player in the family? Whatever her motives, she was quite capable of playing her cards to achieve that end.
Genova could deal with Thalia, but she was growing worried about the marquess. He wasn’t reacting as sheexpected. She was beginning to take seriously the idea that all the Trayces were mad.
“Who were those people, and what did they want?”
“Sir Pelham Brokesby and his sister, Tess. What did they want? To catch me in bed with Molly, I assume.”
He muttered
Ashart looked at Genova as if this had been a plot. “Our first meeting, Thalia, was less than a day ago.”
“But it can happen like that! It was so with my dearest Richard, and I have always regretted proceeding at the tempo of propriety. For then, you know, we would have had a little time as man and wife. Indeed, the whole pattern of our fates might have been different.”
Genova went to her. “Thalia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d lost a lover.”
“It was a long time ago, dear. A lifetime ago. I hope to be reunited with Richard after death. But the Bible says that in heaven we do not grow old.” She looked up at Genova, brow furrowed. “What will he think of me now?”
Genova knew then why Thalia dressed in a youthful style, but couldn’t think of anything to say except, “With God, all things are possible.”
Thalia chuckled. “Apparently that is what dear Beowulf says—‘With a Malloren, all things are possible.’ Naughty boy. But I was touched when his grandfather named his London development Marlborough Square. Richard was a great admirer of Marlborough.”
Tangled in familiar confusion, Genova looked to the marquess for help but saw only hard-held patience.
“And now God’s omnipotence is proved by your finding each other! But”—Thalia waggled a finger at both of them—“it was not clever to behave like that before the vows are said. I will leave you here for a minute or two, Genova, but no longer. I remember the passions of youthful ardor. There is no reason for you to delay the wedding, but until the vows are said, you must behave yourselves.”
As she returned to the bedroom, Genova thought she heard her say, “A Christmas wedding. How nice….”
She turned to Ashart, who seemed at this moment to be the only other sane person in the universe. He walked to the window and flung back the curtains. Dawn was now a bloody band on the horizon.
“Swear if you wish,” she said. “I’ve lived on board ship.”
He laughed. It was short, but it was a laugh, and it released some of the tension. “So I gather from your imprecations when your embroidery frame broke.” He turned to her. “Is your work damaged?”
She looked at the frame, a thing awkwardly limp like a broken bird. “Only a little hole and some pulled threads. I should be able to conceal them.” She looked up at him again. “My lord, what are we to do? Thalia
saw
us! How did she see us?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I assume our fall woke her and she came to see what had happened. Then she returned to her room, leaving us to our ‘passion,’ perhaps with the door ajar out of concern for you.”
A frown lingered in his eyes that was more than annoyance at the situation.
“I could not have arranged for your friends to interrupt us,” she pointed out.
“Did I say you had? And they are no friends of mine.”
“At least you know them. I’d never seen them before! That means they can’t know who I am—” But then she groaned. “Thalia. Do you think she really believes we are in love?”
“Oh, yes. In many ways she has a childlike view of the world.”
Genova wasn’t so sure. Thalia’s eccentricities clearly grew out of her lost love, but Genova had thought for some time that the old lady acted the child to get what she wanted. But why should Thalia want her great-nephew to make such a poor match? Merely to secure a good whist player in the family? Whatever her motives, she was quite capable of playing her cards to achieve that end.
Genova could deal with Thalia, but she was growing worried about the marquess. He wasn’t reacting as sheexpected. She was beginning to take seriously the idea that all the Trayces were mad.
“Who were those people, and what did they want?”
“Sir Pelham Brokesby and his sister, Tess. What did they want? To catch me in bed with Molly, I assume.”
He muttered
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