The smart retort stuck to her tongue. What he said was true, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She settled for ducking her head in a nod, and walking faster. And St. James, maddeningly, didn’t irk her by belaboring the point.
When they reached Poplar House, Mary was waiting with a letter. “From Miss Cathy,” she said—unnecessarily, for Bianca had gasped in joy at the sight of her sister’s handwriting.
“Thank you, Mary!” She seized the letter and tore off her hat and shawl, unloading them into the maid’s hands before carrying her prize into the parlor.
Bianca did not regret helping her sister elope, but now she realized how anxiously she’d been waiting for some word from Cathy that all had gone off well, that she was married to Mr. Mayne, that she was happy. Just the sight of this letter, free of tear stains—she looked closely for them, as she unfolded it—caused the pressure inside her chest to ease.
She sat on the settee by the window and broke the seal.
Dearest B—
I am married! And more happily than I can express in ink and paper.
We made the journey to Wolverhampton in good time, due primarily to your great assistance in helping us get away from Marslip unseen. The journey was not easy but Richard was so tender and caring of my comfort, I hardly felt a moment’s trouble. Richard’s sister, Mrs. Taylor, was astonished to see us, but she listened to our story and instantly agreed to help us. Where would we be, I asked Richard, without our sisters? He agreed we have both been singularly blessed in you and Maria.
There was some trouble about the license, which took several days to remedy. Richard had to ride to Lichfield, which caused a delay, but all is right now. I have been Mrs. Mayne for an entire day and have never been happier and know that I owe it all to you, dear Bianca.
I am sorry not to have written to you sooner but I felt it better not to stir up any trouble that may have erupted between you and Papa. I hope he was not too terribly angry with you for helping us. Do write as soon as you may and tell me if he has been horrible to you, or if Mr. St. James kicked up a terrible fuss about it.
Bianca stirred uncomfortably. She still had no idea how to tell her sister what had happened with Mr. St. James, let alone why she had gone along with Papa’s mad, angry suggestion. Papa would no doubt argue that he had been caught off guard, while Bianca had known for days and days that her sister would not be standing up beside St. James in the church. She ought to have been more prepared for his burst of fury, and not let herself get caught up in it.
What would Cathy say about this?
“I trust she is well.” St. James’s voice made her start. He had followed her as far as the parlor doorway, where he stood with his arms folded and his shoulder against the jamb.
Bianca cleared her throat and angled the letter away from his view. “She is.”
“Happily married?”
“Yes—very.” He continued to gaze at her until, uneasily aware that she had schemed to deny him the bride he’d wanted, she muttered, “Did you want something?”
“You look unsettled. Not as one might expect upon receiving a joyful letter from a beloved sister.”
“Are you an expert on sisters?” she parried.
“Not at all,” he said, a faint smile appearing. “I’ve never had one. But I am well-versed in disappointment and dismay, and you have the air of it about you.”
She wondered at that, but feared asking how he was such an authority would only invite more questions about her own behavior. “She asks how our father has taken her elopement.” She chewed on her lower lip, then added quietly, “And if you made a fuss.”
He strolled into the room and took a chair by the table. “Will you put her mind at ease?”
“Will I assure her all is well, or will I be honest?” She fiddled with the letter. “I don’t know.”
“In this instance, I recommend honesty.” Bianca glared at him, and he lifted one shoulder. “It can hardly be concealed forever. Might as well break the news and be done with it.”
“I suppose.” He was right, though she hated to admit it. “She is more concerned with how our father reacted to her disappearance.”
“Will he forgive her quickly?”
Bianca stared at the floor. Papa had always adored Cathy, who reminded him of their mother. One plea from Cathy, with tears brimming in her big blue eyes, and Papa would relent and fold her into his arms. Bianca, on the other hand . . . She was the bullheaded daughter, the one who got into arguments with their father, the one who stood up to him. She was the one he hadn’t spoken to in three weeks despite seeing her almost every day. “Perhaps not immediately, but he will.”
“He’s fond of her, then.”
“Very.” Bianca folded the letter. Cathy had written more, but she would read it later. The prospect of telling her sister what had happened, in all its incredible, furious detail, had dimmed her delight at receiving it.
She did not relish telling her sister that she, Bianca, was now married to the man who had courted Cathy. Even without sparing Papa and St. James generous shares of blame, even explaining how angry she’d been and how Papa threatened the loss of Perusia, it would shock her sister. Cathy would be stunned and horrified that Bianca had agreed to it.
“A forgiving father is a blessing,” her husband remarked.
Bianca blinked out of her thoughts. “Yes.”
St. James shifted in his chair, leaning a bit toward her. “He misses you, you know. He had no one else to regale with your triumph at the scarlet glaze, so I have heard it all twice.”
She blushed. She’d known all along her father would be enormously pleased with the scarlet. “Is your father kind?” she asked on impulse.
There was a second of hesitation. “He’s long in his grave,” said St. James easily.
“Oh.” She had suspected as much, but felt, for the first time, a flicker of curiosity about his family—and a twinge of shame that she’d never spared them a thought until now, when it felt too awkward to ask. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Thank you.” It was politely said, but invited no further questions. St. James rose. “Convey my felicitations to your sister on her marriage.”
Bianca’s mouth fell open. “Your . . . felicitations?”
“Of course. She is my sister-in-law. I am delighted to hear she is happily wed.” His eyes gleaming, he gave a brief bow and walked out, his shoes ringing on the worn wooden floor. Despite his newly sober clothing, he still wore the raised heels of a London gentleman.
Bianca realized her fingers had clenched around Cathy’s letter. She exhaled and smoothed it on her skirt. St. James obviously was suffering no regrets about their marriage—or at least not great ones.
She tried to tell herself everything was still as she’d thought before, that he cared only for his share of Perusia and it was all the same to him no matter which Tate sister he had to marry to get it. It was no trouble for him to be pleased for Cathy, because he’d got the other daughter and ended up as he wanted to be anyway.
But deep inside, she was beginning to suspect there was much, much more to him than that.
Max’s stride remained unhurried and calm all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. He even managed to close the door normally instead of flinging it shut behind him.