“We weren’t at odds.” They just hadn’t been…together. And now they were. Saturday’s phaeton race to Richmond had been the best he’d ever undertaken and the fact that he’d arrived first wasn’t the reason. It was his wife’s company and perhaps the stop they’d made on the return that had involved a well-hidden tree and resulted in the loss of a button on his fall.
“Why are you smirking like that?” Lucien asked.
Constantine shook his head. “No reason.”
“Liar. You’re positively smitten. In fact, I would say you are glowing.” Lucien leaned back in his chair, looking smug. “You’re welcome.”
Smitten? Yes, he was. He was tumbling headfirst into love with his wife, and the sensation was at once unsettling and delightful. He chose not to dwell upon it but to just enjoy her company and the time they spent together.
The last thing Lucien said finally sank into Constantine’s brain. “I should thank you?”
“The tutor helped, did she not?”
“Yes, but I admit to feeling a sense of guilt about it.”
Lucien’s brows climbed in surprise. “Did you have sexual intercourse with her?”
Constantine ignored the heat that rose in his face. “No, but I should tell her about our meetings so that we can put all of it behind us.”
“Don’t.” Lucien shook his head. “What would be the point? You aren’t going to see the tutor again, she helped you when you needed it, and I daresay Sabrina is just as happy as you are to have gotten to where you are now. It would be a shame for you to mope about it.”
“I’m not moping.” Constantine narrowed his eyes at Lucien before deciding he would much rather bask in the newfound bliss he’d found with Sabrina than think of the tutor—or the past at all. “I came here to ask why I was invited to your club. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t realize that.”
Lucien exhaled as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “I thought that was perhaps why, but I wanted you to bring it up. You were invited because the membership committee deemed you worthy.”
“All it took was you recommending me?”
“I think the smiling and the laughing probably helped.” The statement was mildly facetious and normally would have made Constantine scowl. Instead, he rolled his eyes.
Lucien leaned forward. “Did you just roll your eyes again?”
Constantine ignored his brother’s inanity. “Sabrina says the purpose of the club is to provide a place for those who feel excluded elsewhere. Did you really not invite me before because I didn’t want to join, or is it because I am included in Society?”
“That is the purpose, and yes, I didn’t see you as someone who needed inclusion. I’ve changed my mind about that of late, however.”
This grabbed Constantine’s full attention. “Why?”
“Because I see you more clearly. You felt like an outsider in your own marriage. And when I think about how you interact in Society, you don’t seem to enjoy it. You involve yourself because it’s expected, particularly with Cass having her Season. Also, because of your work in the Commons, which actually means a great deal to you. All those things make you a good candidate for the Phoenix Club. I hope you’ll accept the invitation. I think you’ll find camaraderie there.”
Constantine didn’t have many friends. In fact, only Brightly and the other members of the racing club came to mind. “How did Horace Brightly and his wife qualify for membership?”
“Don’t think of it as a qualification. The club seeks to grow its numbers by inviting people with good intentions and kind hearts, and in particular those in possession of qualities that are overlooked elsewhere—sometimes because of those traits.”
Brightly was certainly good intentioned and had one of the kindest hearts Constantine knew. “And Sabrina?” he asked, despite thinking he already knew the answer.
Lucien looked at him as if he should know the answer. “Con, you know your wife. At least, I hope you do by now. She should have been invited a year ago, and the only reason she wasn’t is because I knew you wouldn’t support it.”
That hurt. Constantine looked away, frowning. “She isn’t comfortable in Society, but she’s trying.” She was sponsoring his sister and hosting a damn ball when both of those things would have made her hide under her bed a year ago.
“We are thrilled to have her as a member of the Phoenix Club,” Lucien said.
Constantine met his brother’s eyes. “I don’t know that I’m a good candidate, actually.”
“I disagree. The question is whether you want to be included. Do you?”
“I’m not sure it’s for the right reasons. My wife is a member, so I feel I should be too. Plus, my brother owns the damn place, so it seems as though I should support his endeavor.”
A wide grin split Lucien’s face, reminding Constantine of how he looked when he found a stashed biscuit in their nursery. “I would love to have you in my club. Truly. I never imagined you’d even consider it. Please do—you’re not the man you think you are,” he added softly.
Constantine agreed with that much. If he’d learned anything since Sabrina had come to town, it was that she had the power to topple his strictly ordered life. The man he thought he was would be horrified and seek a return to order. Not that things were disordered, but they were different. Unexpected.
He stood, his errand completed, though he still hadn’t reached a decision about the invitation. “Be sure to come to Sabrina’s ball. I need for this to be a smashing success for her.”
Lucien got to his feet, smiling. “You’re turning into a rather caring husband. I shall have to believe in miracles after all. Oh, here it comes, another eye roll.”
Constantine shook his head. “You’re a provoking menace.”
“I thought I was a troll.”
“That too. Just be at the ball and be your most spectacular self. Everything you touch turns out wonderfully.”
A darkness crept into Lucien’s eyes, and the smile faded from his mouth. “That is hardly true. But I will do everything I can to ensure your wife is the most celebrated hostess in London come Saturday morning.”
“Thank you.” It felt good to be aligned with his brother. And it would feel even better when his wife’s ball was the success of the Season.
The face staring back at Sabrina in the glass was the same one as the day before and the day before that. Yet, she looked different. There was a softness to her mouth and a sparkle in her gaze. She could attribute the change to the past week and the absolute joy it had brought.
Or perhaps it was because she was with child.
Sabrina’s courses arrived every twenty-eight days without fail. She could set a clock to them, and as of today, she was two days beyond their arrival. It was difficult not to giggle with excitement and hope. She’d never, ever been late, not in twenty-two months of marriage.
But then she was certain that she and Constantine had engaged in more sex over the past week than in those prior twenty-one and three-quarters months. She did giggle then because she couldn’t help herself. She’d come to London for a baby, but she’d gotten so much more.