Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,27
set her mouth into a thin line. “After all, her child won’t be born a bastard.”
A spike of anger rippled through him at Thea’s crude expression and the memory of the shame in his wife’s eyes as she’d taken that name upon herself.
“Am I right in thinking we should also be wishing you joy?” Thea asked.
News traveled fast.
“How did you find out?”
“Does it matter?” she asked. “What I want to know is why you kept it a secret.”
“My life is nobody’s business but my own,” he growled.
“Yet, you think you’ve the right to dictate my life,” she replied. “According to you, I’m too old to find a husband, yet you, who are older than I am, are content to marry the bastard daughter of the man who tormented our family when we were children!”
“It’s not as simple as that,” he said.
“I’m told you won a wife in a game of cards,” Thea said. “Perhaps I should enter a gaming hell and present myself as a prize.”
“I see Anne Pelham has been gossiping again.”
She snorted. “All of London’s gossiping about it. I don’t understand why you didn’t invite any of us, and why you banished your bride within two days of the wedding. You’ve always said that as a family, we should stick together.”
“I married while you were in Bath with Lilah,” Dexter said. “And our brother wouldn’t have agreed to come.”
“But you didn’t even see fit to tell us!” she said. “Are you ashamed of her? Or of us? Is that why you bought me a house of my own? Not out of love, but of shame?”
“I’m not ashamed of anyone,” he said. “But it’s better if she remains in the country.”
“For her, or for you?”
“Both.”
“I suppose I should have expected it,” Thea said, “given that you didn’t invite Daisy today.”
He looked at her, and she flinched as if she knew she’d stepped too far.
“I sent Daisy an invitation,” he said. “She didn’t respond.”
“Why should she?” Thea asked. “Imagine how she’d feel—the sister who disgraced the family name, being forced to congratulate the sister who married a title.”
“Lilah’s happy.”
“Not because she’s a duchess,” Thea said. “You’re the only one of us who believes that a title would make you happy. How must it feel to be so disappointed?”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said. “I don’t know who I pity the most. You, or your wife.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Perhaps spinsterhood isn’t the worst state a woman can find herself in.”
Ah, there it was. Beneath the skin of the obedient sister lay the resentment of a woman too old for marriage.
He sighed. “I can set about finding a husband for you, Thea.”
“What, advertise me for sale to any man who’d take a woman nearing thirty?” she asked. “No, thank you, I’d rather look for myself. At least now I have a home of my own, so I’ll be spared your oppression.”
She flinched as if she expected an outburst of anger, but what was the point in arguing with Dorothea if she spoke the truth? He led her back inside, to the morning room, where Charles was already clearing the crockery.
Dorothea was right. Dexter had failed. Not only in securing suitable matches for them all, but in keeping his family together. Daisy lived in obscurity, refusing to see him, and Delilah had barely spoken to him today. And Dorothea exuded unhappiness.
As for Devon…
A solitary man sat beside the fireplace, his face almost entirely concealed by a black silk mask, a half-full glass of brandy in his right hand. He acknowledged Dexter’s presence with a grunt, then resumed his attention on the fireplace, the light from the flames reflecting in his eyes.
At least Devon had made an appearance today.
“I’m glad you came, brother,” Dexter said.
Devon curled his lip into a sneer, the action revealing part of his scar.
“I came for Lilah. Not for you.”
“Perhaps you’ve heard,” Dexter said. “I’m lately married, also.”
Dexter sipped his brandy. “What do I care? Yet another woman to scream at the sight of me.”
“You’re unlikely to meet her.”
“Stuffed her away in the country, have you?” Devon asked. “So you can fuck that Alderley woman with a clear conscience?”
A splintering crash made him jump. Charles dropped to the floor, mumbling an apology while he cleared up shards of crockery from the floor. Dorothea shot Dexter an angry look, then rushed to help the footman.
“If you must know, I have no intention of seeing Elizabeth again,” Dexter said.
“You think me a fool?” Devon asked. “You’ve been obsessed