The Bridal Quest. Candace Camp
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noticed that she, too, had not eaten much. However, she knew the reason for her own state. After her ill-fated stroll with Lord Radbourne, she had spent the remainder of the ball fuming. She had wanted to leave the party altogether, but Maura had refused to consider it, and Irene had finally slipped out of the ballroom and found a quiet nook along the gallery, where she had spent the rest of the evening.
Though she had been undisturbed, it had scarcely been a pleasant hour, for in her mind Irene had gone over and over Lord Radbourne’s rude behavior and her own appalling lapse of good sense. Even when they finally left the ball and she was able to seek the sanctuary of her own room, she had not found any peace. She had gone to bed but had tossed and turned, her thoughts still occupied with the shocking kiss on the terrace.
It had been hours before she could go to sleep, and even after she finally slipped into slumber, she had been disturbed by hot, lascivious dreams, awakening with her heart pounding and her skin sheened with sweat.
As a result, she had come down to breakfast a trifle late, feeling as if she had not slept at all, and had pushed her food around on her plate, eating little of it.
Irene nibbled another bit of egg and glanced around the table at the others. She noticed that Humphrey and her mother were also sneaking small worried looks at Maura, and Irene wondered again what had gotten into Humphrey’s wife.
Almost as if in answer to Irene’s thought, Maura raised her head and looked at Irene, saying, “I don’t know why you were so anxious to leave the party last night, Irene. It quite spoiled the evening.”
Irene raised her brows. “I had a headache. But we did not leave, so I cannot see how your evening was affected.”
“Irene…” her brother said quietly, a note of warning in his voice.
Irene glanced at him, a twinge of hurt going through her. Was her brother so in the thrall of his wife that he would discourage her from expressing her opinion?
“Well, Humphrey, it seems a reasonable question, does it not?” she asked levelly.
“It isn’t that.” He looked distressed, casting another glance at his wife. “Must we discuss this at the breakfast table?”
Lady Claire spoke up hastily, saying, “It was a lovely party, was it not? I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Didn’t you, Humphrey?”
“Yes, Mother, of course I did.” Humphrey smiled at the older woman fondly. “I was glad to see you so entertained.”
“It was a very pleasant time,” Maura agreed. “And I do not mean to criticize, Irene. I just wish that you would make a little more effort. It was so good of Lady Haughston to single you out, and then I saw you walking with that man. Who did you say he was, Mother?”
“Lord Radbourne,” Lady Claire answered. “Yes, I was quite amazed when Maura pointed him out to me and said you had strolled about the room with him. I had not seen him before, but Mrs. Shrewsbury told me that he was the Bankes’ heir who was kidnapped years ago. Such a sad tale…” She shook her head, tsk-tsking over the story.
“Yes, but the important thing is that he is said to be worth a fortune,” Maura put in. “A highly eligible man. And you did not make the slightest push to interest him, I warrant. Instead, you came back wanting to leave straightaway.”
“I am not interested in Lord Radbourne,” Irene said flatly.
“Of course you are not!” Maura exclaimed. “You are never interested in any man! You are the most unnatural person…. I cannot understand you. Sometimes I think you simply want to thwart me.” Maura glared at Irene, her mouth drawing into a childish pout.
Irene stared at her sister-in-law. Even for Maura, this behavior was a little unusual. “Maura, it has nothing to do with you,” she began reasonably.
“Oh, do not speak to me that way,” Maura snapped, picking up her napkin and tossing it down onto the table. “I am not a child. You talk to me as if I were a fool. Of course it has something to do with me! You refuse to marry, when any normal woman would be eager to do so. But you would rather remain here the rest of your life, even if it means being a spinster with no life of your own. You would much rather interfere with Humphrey’s life—always telling him what to do and how to act—”
Irene gaped at the other woman, stunned by Maura’s words.
“And you!” Maura went on, turning on her husband. Tears welled in her eyes. “You cannot seem to get through the day without asking your sister what you should do. ‘What do you think about this, Irene?’” she mimicked, her voice dripping with bitterness. “‘What should I tell Lord This or Sir That?’ You never ask my opinion, yet I am your wife!”
Humphrey blinked in surprise, for a moment speechless. Then he leaned forward, reaching out a hand to Maura, saying, “My dear…how can you think that? Of course I am interested in your opinion.”
“Hah!” Maura jumped to her feet, shaking off his hand. “You care nothing about me. Nothing at all!” With a sob, she turned and ran out of the room.
The other three people at the table stared after her.
“Humphrey! Irene!” Lady Claire said, her voice worried. “Why—What—”
“Perhaps I should leave, Humphrey,” Irene began stiffly. She had always known that Maura did not like her any more than she liked Maura, but she had been unprepared for the level of dislike in her sister-in-law’s voice.
“No, no,” her brother said hastily, pushing back his chair and standing, looking from the door to Irene, then back to the door. “I suppose I should go after her. I don’t know…she is so…volatile these days.” He turned back to Irene, a frown forming on his forehead. “I apologize. I am sure Maura did not mean it. She is fond of you, of course, just as she is of Mother. It is just—Well, she did not want to tell anyone just yet, but I can see that I must tell you. Maura is in a delicate condition.” His face pinkened slightly at his words, and he smiled in an almost abashed way.
Irene looked at him blankly, but Claire cried out in pleasure, “She is going to have a baby? Oh, Humphrey!” She clasped her hands together at her bosom, her face bright with excitement. “How wonderful! You must be so happy.”
“A baby?” Irene looked at her mother, then back at her brother. She smiled and stood up, then circled the table and hugged him. “I am so happy for you.”
“I knew you would be. I told Maura it was foolish to think you might not be,” Humphrey said with naive candor. “She is not herself these days. You can understand why she said what she did. It is foolish, of course, but I know she did not mean to say anything unkind.”
“Of course not,” Irene lied.
“But, Irene…” He took her hand between his. “Will you try to avoid any unpleasantness for the next few weeks? I am sure she will grow less emotional. Right now it is laughter one minute and tears the next with her. It seems that the slightest thing upsets her.”
“Of course. I promise I will mind my words,” Irene agreed, though her heart sank at the prospect of walking on eggshells around Maura for the rest of the pregnancy. Unlike her brother, she suspected that Maura would play up her condition for all it was worth until the very end. Even longer, in fact. After Maura gave birth, she would doubtless demand even more consideration as the mother of Humphrey’s child.
“Thank you.” Humphrey beamed at her. “I knew I could count on you.” He gave her hand a final pat and turned away. “Now I had better go up and talk to her. She will be feeling so distressed at the thought that she may have wounded you.”
Irene watched her brother go without comment. She seriously doubted that Maura felt any remorse for what she had said, but she would not say so to him. She was well aware that Humphrey’s love for his wife blinded him to all her faults.
She turned back to her mother, who was looking after Humphrey, her face soft with a tender happiness. Lady Claire shifted her gaze