Page 55 of The Earl and His Lady

Her eyes came up to meet Lucas’s. He stood at the shelves still, watching her with a knowing expression.

“Will it always be like this?” she asked before thinking better of it.

“Does it hurt?” he asked in turn.

Virginia contemplated that question, studying her heart and it’s slow, peaceful rhythm. To her surprise, she found no pain. “No,” she answered. “But I miss his company.”

Lucas’s smile was sad, not quite making it to his eyes. “I missed Abigail for a very long time. Would you like to know what helped?”

“Yes.” She dropped her hands from the desk into her lap, watching him come nearer. “What did you do?”

“You may think me a little strange for it.” He stopped at the corner of the desk and raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. “But I spoke to her. Or, I spoke aloud, as if she were listening. It helped, to ease my thoughts, to express them and imagine what Abigail might say to me if she were present.” Lucas shrugged and dropped his hand. “It made me less lonely for her.”

Virginia did not have time to ask more questions, to tell him how often she’d wished to do that very thing, because a knock at the door announced the steward.

Lucas shared one more look with her, and a wink of encouragement, before moving to stand behind her chair, as he said he would. His support silent but firm.

She took in a deep breath and bid the steward enter.

Chapter Twenty

Lucas woke Sunday morning, early as always, his eyes on the dark blue canopy of his bed. He rang for Randal and then went through the motions of getting ready, though his thoughts remained on the day before. The steward’s meeting with Virginia had gone well. The books were all in order, the correspondence adequate, and Lucas could find no fault in the man’s conduct. The steward had been amiable and kind to the baron’s widow, and he’d expressed his hope that he would one day work with Phillip as well.

The household staff remained stiff, but Lucas dismissed that as a real concern. If it became a problem, he knew Virginia would be ready to handle the situation. She was a supremely confident woman in matters of household management.

This morning, Lucas had another concern entirely. Church. Virginia had told him, as if in passing, that she had decided to attend in order to renew acquaintances in the neighborhood.

“You needn’t come, if you’d rather rest,” she had added. But the lack of care in her tone was not matched by the look in her eyes. She was worried.

What if the rest of the neighborhood had the same view of her new marriage as her household?

“I wouldn’t want to miss it,” Lucas had said. “When would you like the carriage to be ready?” And that was that.

Virginia met him for breakfast in the dining room, wearing all black. The stark color, the complete lack of embellishment on her gown, brought him up short when he saw her. Her gowns had been growing lighter—he mostly saw her in gray and even lavender at times—and if she wore black she usually had white lace or a cream-colored fichu at her throat. But not today.

Virginia met his startled look and a rosy hue grew in her cheeks.

At least that’s some color. Lucas forced a smile.

“It’s the first time I have attended since Charles’s death. They should see— The people here liked him. I want them to know that I am respecting his memory.” Her fingers fidgeted at the folds in her skirt while she spoke, her voice tight with anxiety.

“You do great honor to the baron,” Lucas said, nodding deeply to her. “No matter what you wear.”

She smiled and sat down to breakfast. He watched her eat, noting with concern that she barely nibbled at her food. It had taken him some time to coax her into a healthier appetite, but he supposed today would be an exception for them both. He wasn’t all that hungry either.

The carriage came to fetch them at the appointed time. Virginia pulled her gloves into place before they stepped out into the cool morning. Only the barest hint of blue could be seen on the horizon, the rest of the sky was a dismal gray. Lucas narrowed his eyes at it, thinking of his wilting crops.

Climbing into the carriage, Lucas settled next to Virginia on the seat. Her hands were tucked in her lap, clutching a reticule.

“Virginia,” he said, bending his head to catch a glimpse of her down-turned eyes. “You mustn’t let the opinions of others worry you. They cannot know the full story.”

She nodded. “I know.” Her eyes darted up to his, their green depths drawing him in, making him wish he could protect her from all her fears. “I don’t dread it for my sake. Not really. But for the boys. For our family’s reputation and place in the community.”

He nodded, then reached into his coat and pulled out the black band he’d asked Randal to procure for him. “Would you help me with this?”

Virginia’s eyes went to his hand and widened. “Lucas, you don’t have to—”

“Of course I don’t. But I want to. Really, I think I should’ve been wearing one before now.” He held the band, meant to be wrapped around his arm, out to her. “I didn’t have a black cravat or ornament for my hat, but I thought this would do.” It would stand out well on his gray jacket sleeve.