“Exactly.”
“You could explain, and she might understand . . .” Nassim groaned again. “How can you change your mind so fast, after all the work you have done to take them back.”
“It’s not a new idea,” Elias said quietly. “It was always there.”
Nassim shook his head. “Always?”
“Yes. Like smoke on the back of my mind. I think since the day I first laid eyes on her.”
Perhaps even before that, when he had decided as a young man that only a woman who made him feel the way she did would do.
Nassim jumped to his feet, went to the garderobe, and grabbed his hat.
Elias cut him a suspicious look. “Where are you going?”
“Out,” said Nassim. “This room is too small.”
Shortly after Nassim had stormed off, the kitchen clerk delivered the lunch cart. Elias ate alone, not tasting much but feeling cool and calm in his resolve.
When Nassim returned, his portion of Eastern mezze, grilled chicken, and glazed potatoes had wilted and turned cold. Elias had demolished half a pound of pistachios from Nassim’s gift bag, the pale husks piling high on the table.
The cousins looked at each other.
“Come eat,” said Elias.
Nassim went to wash his hands. He plonked himself down at the table with a speaking glance and stabbed his fork into a potato.
“You know what it means,” he said, “what it will mean for you.”
Elias cracked a pistachio between his teeth.
He knew. There was a good chance that it would carve his status of everywhere and nowhere into stone. He couldn’t see her navigating the social politics in Mount Lebanon’s society successfully; she showed a low aptitude for that even in her own country. As for staying here, he had been treated with great politeness and friendly intrigue at Cambridge, but ultimately, he’d come up against the invisible wall every elite drew around their own. Marrying one of their ladies would not build him a bridge, they were possessive of their women and every time he took her to bed he might as well plant his scimitar into the courtyard of Buckingham Palace. But, in the end, everyone might mellow. He would be successful regardless. The solution was to keep moving, and a loyal wife would transmute the loneliness of building something between worlds into freedom.
“Yeah, I know,” he said to Nassim. “I’ll encounter donkeys like Mr. Leighton for the rest of my life.”
“Tfeh! Men like Leighton should take a shit instead of speaking.”
There they agreed.
On Sunday, Elias packed up and inquired about his travel options back east for the end of the week. He expected Catriona to return sometime after Tuesday. They would talk. The potential of a new life was stretching before him, and he spent the days consumed by a burning impatience to begin.
Chapter 34
On the day of the big debate, they took the ducal landau to Parliament, courtesy of Annabelle’s husband. It was a dry evening, but the carriage top was up, which provided some much needed privacy for last-minute scheming while they were parked in front of Westminster Palace. Through the large landau windows, they took in the familiar roofline in silence, gothic turrets and looming towers jutting into a hazy sky. The significance of the situation, the possibility of yet another defeat, sat tensely in their midst.
“Now,” said Lucie. “Who of you has stink bombs in their reticules?”
Catriona winced. I knew I had forgotten something. She hadn’t slept. Too much scheming on other fronts.
“I do,” said Hattie.
“Me, too,” Annabelle said.
“Sorry, I don’t,” Catriona admitted, feeling sheepish.
Lucie cut them a stern look. “They’ll search our belongings at the door. Perhaps not yours,” she said to Annabelle, “but let’s not be amateurs, shall we.” She put her small, booted foot onto the upholstery of the opposite bench and furled up her skirts. A heavy purse hung from her bustle belt. “Hide them.”
Hattie shook her head. “I should have thought of that.”
Rustling ensued, white underskirts flashed.
Outside, the ducal seal on the carriage door was drawing attention. A small group of onlookers had gathered at a respectful distance, people who hoped to catch a glimpse of the duchess and her outfit.
Annabelle shook out her skirts. “Shall we?” she asked, and reached for the door handle.
Lucie placed her hand over Annabelle’s. “Before we go in, I must tell you something.”
Her expression was rather grave.
“Uh-oh,” said Hattie, apprehension plain on her face.