Page 21 of A Gentleman's Wife

Chapter Eleven

Raindrops slid down the tall windows of Thomas’s study as thunder rumbled in the distance. He’d had a long morning of meetings with his tenants about crops and too much rain over the many weeks, and what that would mean for the harvest. Their concerns were legitimate, because a bad harvest would diminish not only the money the estate brought in, but the tenants’ own livelihood, as well. It wasn’t something that could be ignored, and it weighed on Thomas heavily as the rain continued to pour down across the estate.

A knock sounded at his study door, pulling him from his reverie. “Come in.”

He’d expected his steward to appear with notes from another tenant, but instead, it was Marianne who appeared, making Thomas sit a little straighter in his chair behind his desk. “Good morning.”

She nodded her greeting, a paper grasped tightly in one hand. “I’ve come to present the final plans for the ball.”

It was much quicker than he’d anticipated, but he was pleased she’d sought him out. “Wonderful. You needn’t my approval, but I’ll be happy to review it, if you’d like.”

She nodded, stepping forward. “Yes, thank you.”

Thomas accepted the paper and looked over it. A list of detailed courses for the meal, colors for flowers and decor, musicians for hire, and the list of guests he’d already received from his grandfather. It seemed to cover each aspect of a successful ball, except one glaring discrepancy.

“Have you a dress for the special occasion?” he asked.

Marianne gave a gentle shrug. “One of my formal gowns will suit just fine.”

Just as he’d suspected. “I wonder if you will allow me to purchase you something new from the modiste in the village. Whatever the cost, you can bill to the estate.”

“You needn’t feel obligated for such a thing––”

Thomas put up a hand in protest. “Please, I must insist. Consider it a belated wedding present from your husband.”

She gave him a begrudging smile. “As you wish.”

“And which date have you chosen for the ball?”

“A month hence, in October.”

“This all sounds delightful.” He examined the paper with satisfaction. “And is this of your own hand?”

“It is.”

Thomas smiled up at her. “Your penmanship is lovely.”

She did not respond right away, and when he held the paper out to her again, her expression made him pause. The muscles around her mouth twitched, lips pressing together as if to keep from pointing downward. A glint in her eyes brought his attention up, and he recognized the shine of tears. She lifted her chin as he slowly set the paper on his desk.

“I assure you, I meant it as a compliment,” Thomas said, his voice so reverent it sounded a whisper to his own ears.

“I’m fine, please.” She spoke in a rush as she turned her back to him, but the waver in her voice betrayed her.

At times, she seemed so strong, like their walk home from church, and other times, the simplest thing would send her into a panic. Thomas had much to learn about his new bride, but he wanted to, and quickly, so as to avoid causing her such painful moments if at all possible.

Thomas stood and moved behind her, pulling his handkerchief out of his jacket and offering it to her around her arm. She took it with an unsteady laugh, and said, “Thank you.”

He leaned against his desk and paused before speaking again. “Are you unwell? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” She then turned to face him, with a false smile on her lips and her eyes still shining with the remainder of her tears. Her blue eyes were so pale, at times he thought they were gray, like they were in this moment, matching the current clouds pouring down rain outside. “I’m sorry for the tears. My mother always said tears were a sign of weakness, but it seems to be a weakness I am stuck with, along with the many others I carry.”

The talk of her mother made Thomas bristle. If he were anything other than a respectable gentleman, he would mount a horse and ride it all the way back to her parents’ residence to give that damnable woman a piece of his mind. How Mrs. Taylor had irreversibly damaged her daughter was unforgivable and only added to the physical ailments Marianne suffered.

“I believe your mother is wrong on that count,” Thomas said steadily. “Tears are merely an outlet of emotions, whether it’s anger, grief, humiliation, even joy or pleasure. If your tears are connected to a past pain, I won’t shame you for them. I’ve shed many tears in my past, and will likely have many more to come, so you needn’t hide them from me or apologize for them.”

She took a deep breath, then nodded with understanding. “Thank you for saying so. And may I offer you the same. I would like to be a support to you as well, whenever you might need it and however I can.”

Her statement shocked him while simultaneously warming his heart. He couldn’t imagine burdening her with the truth about his heartbreak over Lady Finley, but he appreciated her desire to help him. It endeared Marianne even more to him.

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