The Dark Enquiry by Deanna Raybourn Page B

you. It is not easy to keep a man of that mettle. I have tried,” she said ruefully, and I knew she was not talking of Brisbane.
    “My father,” I guessed.
    She gave a little shrug and put on a brave smile. “Hector is a magnificent man. But it was not to be,” she said lightly.
    I shuddered slightly to hear my father described so, but I was glad she had appreciated his better qualities, if only for a little while. “I am sorry that he broke off the connection,” I offered. “Perhaps he is out of the habit of romance. It has been so long since my mother died.”
    It was a sorry excuse, but the best I could offer her. Sitting in her exquisite, sunlit morning room, surrounded by her elegance and her warmth, it seemed impossible to me that he could have been so stupid as to cast off her affections. But then, my father had never been renowned for doing the sensible thing, I mused with some irritation.
    She shrugged again and let the comment pass. “Nicholas is worried about you.”
    I sighed. “I am worried about him. That is why I have come. I wonder sometimes if we did not make a terrible mistake in our marriage.”
    She cocked her head to the side. “Why do you say such a thing? You love him, he loves you. These are the only facts which matter.”
    “I wish it were as simple as that.” I spread my hands. “I want so badly to be part of his life, his real life—his work. And he promised I could help him with investigations if I applied myself to certain studies. I have done so, and I have proven in the past that I can be useful, to a surprising degree at times. And yet still he fights me, conceals things from me. He forces me to blunder about in secret, a far more dangerous approach,” I pointed out, warming to my theme, “and then he is enraged when I do. There is no winning with him.”
    “It is not a contest, Julia,” she reminded me gently. “It is a marriage! La, what a time of it you will have together if the pair of you cannot understand this.” She clucked her tongue, and I looked at her through narrowed eyes.
    “Did you give Brisbane the same advice?”
    “Of course! I tell you both that you must not accuse the other of being less than honest when you yourself have been deceitful.”
    “Deceitful!” I sat up very straight, my back stiff with out rage.
    She arched a brow at me. “Do you not find it deceitful to pretend to be a boy so you can skulk around the city, following your husband about his business?”
    I dropped my eyes. “Oh. He told you about that.”
    “He did. And he confessed that he lied to you when you asked about his meeting with your brother, Lord Bellmont. I told him this was equally unacceptable and wholly stupid.”
    “You did not tell Brisbane he was stupid,” I said, blinking hard at her.
    “I did. And I will say the same to you. You are a stupid woman if you cannot put love above everything else.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she raised her voice, something I had never heard her do in the whole of our acquaintance. “Love is the only thing that lasts, Julia, the only thing that matters. And both of you are trying to throw it away with both hands because you are proud and stubborn. For all your differences, you are too much alike, the pair of you. But you are lucky, so lucky and you are too blind to see it! This man, this magnificent man, offers you love and you take it and say, ‘Give me more, give me respect!’ And he does the same to you, saying to this beautiful woman, ‘Your love is not enough, I want your obedience, as well!’ Why cannot love be enough for the both of you? It is more than some of us have or will ever have again,” she finished on a sob, and to my astonishment, she broke into a fit of weeping.
    Even that was gracefully done, I mused as I went to embrace her. Her tears slid slowly down her cheeks, and her nose never turned pink. She daubed lightly at her eyes, and begged my forgiveness.
    “I do not know what you must think of me,”