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Archie hummed to himself as he looked at the gray sunlight outside the window of the carriage. They were still traveling along the border of his estate and not his father’s and he might as well take the time to examine the fence around his property. Could be that it needed changing in some places that his steward might not have noticed.
In the seat opposite him, Cecilia seemed just as determined to examine the view out the other window. Although probably not looking at fences. The fifteen minutes that they had spent in the carriage so far was the longest stretch of time in the past three weeks they had spent alone since the second night of their marriage. Of course, they had dinner together every night, but then there was at least one footman in attendance. Often, they had tea together in the afternoon, but then there would also be the presence of a maid going back and forth and often enough visitors.
His mother and Hester had been by four times. They had mostly talked about Hester’s upcoming wedding. Archie had studied the interactions between his wife and sister, but Cecilia did not seem to be harboring ill feelings towards his sister.
“Which flowers will there be, Your Grace?” Cecilia had asked the first time they had been there. “Millie,” Cecilia had croaked a moment later, as his mother sent her a mild scolding look. This was at least the fourth time that Cecilia referred to her by her title and not her given name as his mother had requested.
“We will have some from our hothouse,” his mother had answered with a look to Hester who looked utterly indifferent.
“Yes, not many are in bloom in the garden,” Cecilia had agreed. “And you, Lady Hester... Hester, do you have any flowers that you prefer?”
Hester looked up at her, almost surprised that she was asked to give an opinion on this. Archie had hidden a smile behind his hand.
“I like spring flowers: daffodils, winter aconite and snowdrops, but Mother says that they would not be fit for a wedding table even if they were in bloom.” There was a tightlipped edge to Hester’s voice and Archie hoped that it was merely the remnants of a fight she had evidently had with their mother over flowers and not ill feelings on her part towards Cecilia.
“They are lovely,” Cecilia had said, a small smile playing around her face. “I was planning on peony and dahlias for my wedding...” Cecilia began, but then trailed off with a horrified expression at first him, then her mother and Hester. “I mean, it was just... The service at Great Farleigh Hall was absolutely lovely and I adored the flowers that you had picked, Your Grace... I mean, Millie,” she said flustered.
Archie felt the urge to put a hand on her arm to reassure her that everything was alright but was not certain whether she would welcome it.
“No harm was done, Cecilia,” his mother had gently stated. “This is all so new, and I dare say the situation is a little... well, a lot, unorthodox.”
She rose to sit in the chair next to Cecilia and then she put her hand on Cecilia’s arm. Archie clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He should just have touched her. There had to be a flaw to his personality that he could not simply behave naturally around her.
“And it’s not...” Cecilia began and looked at Hester. She gulped audibly. “I really am happy for you and Flint. Or should I call him Lord Lambourn now?”
She looked at Archie’s mother as if she needed assistance.
“I see no reason why you cannot keep calling him Flint. He will be your brother by marriage soon,” his mother reminded her mildly, but it was clear from her intense gaze that she was studying Cecilia just as fiercely as Archie was.
“Yes, well.” Cecilia’s voice had become a bit fragile, and she latched onto his mother’s hand, which was still resting on her arm. “What I meant to say was that it is clear that you and he... suits, was all I was going to say. In a way that he and I never...”
For the first time during the visit, Hester smiled. It lit her violet eyes as if a light was shining from within even though the curve of her mouth was only small.
“Thank you. I feel the same,” she told Cecilia in a voice that suited a shy child better than a grown woman. But her love and devotion for Lord Lambourn shone through. For what it was worth, at least Archie had not muddled their lives by exposing them to Cecilia.
Archie had felt a stab in his midsection at the thought that Cecilia might never say that of him. That she felt they suited. Which of course was ridiculous. Because did he even want that? Right now, he would settle for what they had as long as they were also sharing a bed...
His mother and Hester had departed not long after. As Hester and Cecilia were saying goodbye, his mother had held onto his hand.
“Why is she unhappy?” she had demanded in the sternest voice that he had ever heard his mild-tempered mother use.
Archie had quickly cast a glance in Cecilia’s direction where she and Hester seemed to be struggling through a few minutes of conversation. At least both women’s smiles were a bit strained by the look of it.
“She’s not,” he answered hesitantly because truly he had no idea what went on in his wife’s mind.
“She is, and you should make her happy, because I feel certain that she has the ability to do the same for you,” his mother snapped, which had made Archie let go of her with a mixture of shock and surprise.
“The weather looks fine for the season,” Cecilia noted as the carriage towards Great Farleigh Hall now scrambled onwards. It was the first comment she had made since she thanked the footman for helping her into the carriage.
“Yes, it seems fine weather to go hunting,” Archie commented and stretched to be able to see the gray sky above them, where the sun was visible in the places that the layers of cloud thinned.
Silence settled between them once more. They passed the boundary between Archie’s estate and that of his father’s, without him having found a single flaw in the fence and yet he kept staring out the window just as intensely. Cecilia seemed to be equally preoccupied with her view. Perhaps something truly magnificent was happening on the other side of the carriage. Perhaps a phoenix had been flying alongside it or a leprechaun was dancing in the field. The thought was so ludicrous that it made Archie chuckle.
“What?” Cecilia demanded with an air of hurt feelings as if she naturally assumed that he was laughing at her.
How had they gone this wrong? The old Cecilia would clearly have liked his jest. She would have rolled her eyes and then asked him nonsensical questions like which color the leprechaun's breeches were.
“Nothing,” Archie told her as he straightened his face and sat back in his seat. Cecilia mimicked his motion and for a moment they were looking at each other, then she quickly bent her head and started rummaging in her reticule. Whatever it was seemed to be buried at the bottom of the bag, since she kept searching for it without looking at him.
Archie regretted his decision to ride in the carriage alongside Cecilia instead of being on horseback. But back at the cottage this had seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to talk. Because surely their marriage at this point was in lack of words. For example, he could ask her for how long exactly her monthly courses usually lasted. The third night of their marriage he had yet again gone to Cecilia’s bedroom, although with significantly less hope of actually succeeding in bedding her this time. A blushing Cecilia who had completely avoided eye contact with him had informed him that her monthly courses had started that day. He took the color of her face and her refusal to meet his eyes as a sign that this was true and not constructed to keep him out of her bedroom.
But then she had not given him any hint as to when her bleedings had ceased. He had supposed that she would at least make an underhanded remark at some point to let him know that... well, that she was available, if he wished to sleep with her. He had understood from their two attempts in the bedroom that she was keen to have the marriage consummated at least. And he had naïvely thought that once that was over with the next time would be easier for them.
“Ah, here,” Cecilia said and retrieved a small brown bag that was completely crumpled around its contents. She started extricating what appeared to be bonbons that had been lying in her reticule for a long time. The paper was partially sticking to them, and she tore her gloves off and tossed them on the seat next to her to start scratching the paper off with her nail. “Do you want one?” she asked and offered it to him after she had cleaned the first. Archie did not particularly like sweets and felt even less inclined towards bonbons that still had paper lint attached to it, but he accepted it with a smile, nonetheless. So far, she had reached out twice to start a conversation whereas he had not done anything.
The bonbon was an explosion of peppermint in his mouth. Not exactly what he had anticipated Cecilia would prefer. He had thought it would be a lot sweeter, perhaps with a hint of lemon. He sucked in a deep breath and felt how the peppermint reached the back of his nose and all the way down his throat. The sensation almost made him cough.
“I did not know you liked peppermint,” he said and then immediately wished he could step on his own foot since this was the most daft comment he had made to someone of the opposite sex since he was ten.
“I do,” Cecilia told him as she put the other bonbons into her mouth. Archie imagined being that bonbon and infusing that rush of peppermint in her mouth. He squirmed in his seat as he realized that just the thought was making blood pool in disadvantageously places. Damnation, it had come to the point where he was envious of a bloody bonbon.
“I would have picked you for someone who liked something sweeter,” Archie went on with the farcical conversation, that he might as well have had with one of the local girls when he had been ten.
“Well, I like sweeter bonbons as well. Which do you prefer?” she asked.
Archie moved the bonbon in his mouth as he considered lying.
“This is decent.” He then admitted, “Normally I do not like bonbons.”
“Then why did you accept it?” Cecilia asked. Apparently, she was just as intent on pursuing their ridiculous line of conversation as he was.
Archie shrugged. Because he could never admit the true reason, he had accepted it.
“I thought perhaps my taste had changed,” he then told her and tried to follow it with a lopsided smile but felt that he was not exactly succeeding since Cecilia just looked at him stone-faced.
He waited for a heartbeat or two, but it did not seem that she had an intension of answering.
“I thought we could go to London after the wedding,” he practically blurted because now that they were actually talking, he did not want them to stop again. They still had half an hour at least until they reached Great Farleigh Hall and he could not bear to sit the rest of the ride in silence.
Besides it was true that he had thought that it might be beneficial for their marriage if they spend a couple of weeks or perhaps even months in London. It provided more opportunity for them to share experiences like the opera, going to a concert, a museum, or the theater – or perhaps not the theater yet.
He had not heard any more from Lavinia and trusted that she was finally satisfied with whatever his man of business had offered her. Nevertheless, there was no reason to rub it in Cecilia’s face that he had just ended an affair with an actress when he married her. He was certain that she knew about the scandal. It would not do anything to improve the relationship between them.
“Oh,” was Cecilia’s response to his proposition.
“Do you not wish to go to London? We can go somewhere else. I do owe you a honeymoon I suppose. Or not owe in that manner. I would be happy to participate as well,” Archie babbled and wished someone was there to kick his shin because he definitely should have ended the speech as early as possible.
“No, if you wish to go to London then by all means...” Cecilia mumbled and seemed to shrink a little as she looked out the window.
Archie sighed and raked a hand through his hair.
“Do you not wish to go?” he demanded of her.
“Do you want me to go?” she countered and straightened her back as she once again met his gaze. Her voice was confident, but he felt it hid another feeling underneath. Confusion or perhaps even uncertainty.
“Yes, I want you to go. With me. To London. I thought it would be amusing. Entertaining.”
Cecilia’s mouth twisted, formed an O as if she was ready to speak, then twisted again before she finally said:
“Fine, if you wish.”
Archie practically threw his arms into the air. What did it take to make her say what she wished? She clearly did not wish to go to London, just as something had clearly been the matter both times that she had been in his bed, yet she kept hiding it from him.
“I don’t wish to go if you do not wish to go,” he told her in a tired voice.
“I wish to go if it will make you happy,” Cecilia answered, and Archie had the feeling that she was simply agreeing with him for the sake of agreeing.