“So,” she said, straightening up with a sigh, “Amaranthus is still in love with her husband, and he’s still in love with her. And you …？”
“Did I say I had any feelings for her?” he demanded irritably.
“No, you didn’t.” You didn’t need to, you poor fool, her face said.
“I don’t suppose it matters,” she said mildly. “Now that you know she’s not a widow. I mean … you wouldn’t consider …” She left that thought where it was, thank God, and he ignored it. She cleared her throat.
“What about Amaranthus, though?” she asked. “What will she do now, do you think?”
William could think of a lot of things she might do, but he’d already learned that his own imagination was not equal to that particular lady’s.
You might … just possibly enjoy it.
“I don’t know,” he said gruffly. “Probably nothing. Uncle Hal won’t throw her into the street, I don’t suppose. She didn’t betray him, the King, the country, the army, and everything else—and she is Trevor’s mother, and Trevor is Uncle Hal’s heir.” He shrugged. “What else could she do, after all?”
He heard the echo of his uncle’s voice above the sounds of marram grass and water: “If you consider treason and the betrayal of your King, your country, and your family a suitable means of solving your personal difficulties, William, then perhaps John hasn’t taught you as well as I supposed.”
“Divorce?” his sister suggested. “That seems … cleaner. And she could marry again.”
“Mmphm.” William was envisioning just what might have happened if he had acceded to Amaranthus’s suggestion—and then discovered Benjamin’s continued existence, possibly after having fathered …
“No,” he said abruptly, and was startled when she laughed.
“You think this situation is funny?” he said, suddenly furious.
She shook her head and waved a hand in apology.
“No. No, I’m sorry. It wasn’t the situation—it was the noise you made.”
He stared at her, affronted.
“What do you mean, noise?”
“Mmphm.”
“What?”
“That noise you made in your throat—mmphm. You probably don’t want to hear this,” she added, with grossly belated tact, “but Da makes that sort of noise all the time, and you sounded … just like him.”
He breathed through his teeth, biting back a number of remarks, none of them gentlemanly. Evidently his face spoke for him, though, for her face changed, losing its look of amusement, and she slid off her stool, came to him, and embraced him.
He wanted to push her away, but didn’t. She was tall enough that her chin rested on his shoulder, and he felt the cool touch of her paint-streaked hair against his heated cheek. She was muscular, solid as a tree trunk, and his arms went round her of their own volition. There were people in the house; he could hear voices at a distance, footsteps, thumps, and clanking—tea being served? he thought vaguely. It didn’t matter.
“I am sorry,” she said softly. “For everything.”
“I know,” he said, just as softly. “Thank you.”
He let go of her and they parted gently.
“Divorce isn’t a simple matter,” he said, clearing his throat. “Especially when one of the parties is a viscount and the heir to a dukedom. The House of Lords would have to vote and give consent on the matter—after hearing a full account of everything—and I do mean everything. All of which would be meat for the newspapers and broadsheets, to say nothing of gossip in coffeehouses, taverns, and all the salons in London.
“Though I suppose,” he went on, reaching for his hat, “that a divorce might well be granted. Having your husband convicted of treason seems like sufficient grounds. The results might not be worth it, though.” He punched the crown of his hat back into shape and put it on.
“Thank you,” he said again, and bowed.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Anytime.” She smiled at him, but it was a tremulous smile, and he felt regret at having worried her with his troubles. As he turned to go he caught sight once again of the row of portraits, one still shrouded.
She saw him glance at it and made a small, interrupted gesture.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. I don’t want to keep you—”
“I have very few demands upon my time at the moment,” he said, smiling. “What is it?”