Taste of Desire - By Lavinia Kent Page 0,108

of conversation? If a gift it was certainly a strange one, but perhaps a deeply felt one. If a witty parlay of conversation – No, she would take his words as they were offered. “Yes, it would please your wife if you did so.”

She could not see Tristan’s face for he stood behind her, but Felicity’s expression was taut with anticipation.

“Then yes, Mother. I daresay the time as come to put our differences behind us.”

“You understand then that –“ Felicity’s words were garbled with their speed.

“No, I cannot say that. I do not think I want to ever know more about those dark days. Let us say that I have come to understand emotion is not always rational or controllable and that life does not move according to plan.” Tristan squeezed Marguerite’s shoulder.

Felicity, evidently, was not ready to concede the point so quickly. “If you would only let me explain. It is not what you think.”

Tristan stepped forward and held up and hand to stop the conversation. “Do not press, mother. It has taken great thought for me to reach this point. I want to live from this moment forward and let the past rest.”

“But . . .” Felicity let the word trail off. She was clearly considering how much she had already won. Marguerite could almost see that one word mother repeating inside her head. Felicity bowed her head. She would take what was offered.

Tristan continued to look at his mother for a moment and then turned to his wife. She could see the question in his eyes. She stared into their silver depths for a spit-second, then turned and looked at the empty space on the couch beside Felicity.

He drew his brows together and she thought he would balk at her unspoken request, then he gave the barest suggestion of a bow and went to sit beside his mother. Felicity moved a little to the side. They did not touch. Nobody spoke.

Violet sat to the side, she had been silent for a while, but as if sensing the tension between the other three she smiled at Felicity. “Do you plan to stay in Town after the end of the season? I know Wimberley has some beautiful land on the coast. I am sure an ocean breeze would be most refreshing if the heat continues.”

“You are quite right.” Felicity answered. “I once loved the shore during the hottest months of the summer. It has been some years since I could indulge myself. I tend to spend the majority of the summer in Town, although I do attend the occasional house party.”

Marguerite wished she could kick Tristan. She should not have had him sit out of her reach. She had never imagined all Felicity had given up when her husband died and her son quit speaking with her. To have gone from mistress of this house and all the estates to an unwelcome encumbrance would have tried the strongest of souls.

Tristan remained silent and Marguerite wondered if she dared issue an invitation without his agreement. She did not understand why he had become so cooperative this morning. She started to speak and then stopped. Nobody would be happy if Tristan’s agreement was forced. She turned until she faced her husband directly. “I am sure you are both correct that I will find the sea air invigorating. I wonder how I will make do with the lack of company, however. I have lived such a quiet life, but these last few months in the city have changed my outlook. I must confess I am not sure at all how I will survive without my friends.”

Neither of the women had any reply.

Marguerite could almost feel each measured breath her husband took. He looked at her, looked down at his knee and tapped his fingers against it idly. He glanced back up. “You are going to insist I do this right, aren’t you. Well, I never did believe in half measures anyway.” He tapped his knee again. “Mother, Violet, we would be delighted if you would join us in a week or two when we travel to the shore – which is apparently our destination. I will let you know when the arrangements have been made.”

Felicity agreed quickly. Marguerite could see her fear that her son would change his mind at any moment. Violet considered a moment and the demurred. “I am afraid I have made other plans. Perhaps in the fall we could manage something. I hesitate for fear you will think

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