Part 36 (2/2)
”No, really. I do quite well on my own.”
Mathilda raised an elegantly coiffed brow.
”I do,” Thalia insisted. ”Honestly, I want for nothing. Besides, I have little need for new finery, since I so rarely go out. I could show it off to Hera, but somehow I don't think she'd be all that impressed.”
She forced a laugh, but Mathilda didn't join her.
Instead, Mathilda frowned. ”I should have had you to Lambton for the holidays-”
”You asked me. I said no.”
”Yes, but I ought to have insisted. I guess I was rather under the impression you were hoping a certain admirer would return to Town.”
Thalia looked away, the misery that was her constant companion these days snapping its jagged little teeth.
But she didn't want to think of Leo. She spent the majority of each day trying very hard not to think of him. It was one of the reasons she had sent Athena and the pearls back to him. She couldn't bear to see either one of them, couldn't stand the memories of Leo that they roused within her empty, broken heart.
”I . . . well, perhaps at the time,” she said.
”And now?”
She curled her fingers into a fist beneath her edge of her skirt. ”Now what?”
”Are you and he still . . .”
”No.” Her voice sounded sharp. Sharper than she'd intended.
She moderated her tone. ”Lord Leopold and I are no longer seeing one another.”
”Ah.” Mathilda leaned over and reached for a lemon biscuit, nibbling the sweet cookie as was her habit when she was uncomfortable. ”When did that happen? You didn't say.”
”No, I didn't.”
”I'm sorry, Thalia. Did he end it?”
”No. I did. It was time.”
”Really? But the two of you seemed so happy the last time I saw you together. I thought . . .”
Thalia forced herself to look into Mathilda's eyes, careful not to let anything show in her own gaze. ”What did you think?”
”You seemed different around him. And the way he looked at you. I thought perhaps the two of you were in love.”
Her heart gave a hard pump as if she had taken a blow. She glanced away again.
”Whatever we were, nothing could come of it. You know I cannot remarry.”
”Marry? Were things so serious that you talked of marriage?”
She squeezed her hand tighter, her nails digging into the tender flesh of her palm. She welcomed the pain.
”Tilly, I know you mean well, but I do not wish to talk about it. About him. Tell me again how Tom is doing in school.”
Mathilda studied her for long seconds, then sighed. ”Very well, I won't pry further. But you know you may always come to me.”
”I do.”
She reached for her cup and dumped the cold tea into the silver waste receptacle, then poured herself a fresh cup. She raised the hot tea to her lips. It drove away a little of the cold inside her. A cold that had never really gone away, not since the day Leo left.
”Now, Tom,” she said again, striving for a lighter tone. ”How is he doing?”
Chapter 31.
April flowers blossomed in a vivid riot of color. Trees adorned themselves in new green finery like girls preening for a ball. Warmer air drove away the lingering cold. And all around, the city hummed with a renewed vitality that could mean only one thing-springtime had arrived.
But Leo noticed none of it as he strode along the crowded streets, his muscles tight with a frustration and despair that went bone deep.
His every effort to find a way out of Thalia's divorce decree had met with failure. Every road he took led to yet another impa.s.se, another new defeat. He wasn't used to losing; it wasn't a situation in which he often found himself. But finally, against even his own instincts, he'd had to accept the truth.
Thalia would never be able to remarry.
Not that she would have him, even if Kemp weren't in the way.
He'd tried over the past couple of months to reason with her, to convince her that her inability to provide him with children didn't matter. But she was sure it would-maybe not now, but someday.
She'd been hurt too much in the past to believe. He could not get through the wall she'd built around herself.
They'd seen each other again nearly six weeks ago when he'd gone to her town house. It galled him that he hadn't been able to bring an engagement ring as he'd promised.
He'd expected Fletcher to refuse him entrance as he had so often before. But this time had been different. This time he had been invited inside and left to cool his heels in the drawing room.
She'd joined him a short time later, looking every bit as beautiful as ever, although she seemed a little thinner, and tired.
As tired perhaps as he was himself.
”You have to stop this, Leo,” she said in an emotionless voice. ”Stop writing to me. Stop coming to my door. We have said all there is to say. I have made my wishes quite clear. We are done.”
”Do you love me?”
She'd shown no reaction, though she had refused to meet his eyes. ”Whether I do or not no longer matters. This is the final time we will see one another. I will no longer accept your letters and if you call upon me-”
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