Sera thought it was not well done of him.
“I’m sorry,” Wentworth said, in obvious confusion. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just assumed—”
“A natural assumption, I’m sure, but you have managed to set his back up. He was wounded in a duel, and it is not a good idea to cross him,” Sera said hastily, as she ran to catch up with Tony.
“Well, did you fill him in on the latest news?” Tony asked.
“No, I scarcely spoke to him. I thought him quite presumptuous.”
Tony did not offer her his good arm again, so she walked in silence beside him. He parted from her in the hallway and went into his own room without a word. Their rooms were joined by a common sitting room, and she did sit there for a time, even trying to write some letters, but Tony did not emerge. She sensed that she had hurt him, not by anything she had done today, but by revealing her own part in the conflict. It had not occurred to her he would be jealous of it. He was a strange man. When she could not figure out what to say to make him feel better, she said nothing. It was no solution, but at least it did not compound the damage.
* * *
“Perhaps his shoulder still hurts him,” Marie volunteered as Sera sat, rather red-eyed, over her tea the next morning.
“Yes, that must be it. No wonder he sat up drinking then—trying to deaden the pain. I suppose it was a stupid idea to come on a honeymoon with him not fit yet. But Lord Cairnbrooke planned it for us. He said it would be good if we got away from London for a while.” Sera wasn’t sure if this was for their benefit, or to give the talk a chance to settle.
Sera was not yet in love with Tony, but she thought that would come in time. She hadn’t been quite sure what to expect on their wedding night, but she had not expected to be completely ignored. He had never come to her, and she had slept only fitfully.
But she had recovered herself, and was calmly drinking her tea when Tony emerged from his bedroom, looking tired and surly, his brown eyebrows furrowed over his troubled blue eyes as though a headache were gnawing at him. It would be amazing if he didn’t have a headache, if he had indeed consumed as much wine as Stewart had reported to Marie. “They have brought coffee, too, if you would like some,” Sera said brightly.
“Nothing, thank you.” He picked up the newspaper from the table and withdrew behind it so as not to face her. They had conversed so easily before they were married, and even in the carriage on the way, and at dinner, that she had no idea it would be difficult to talk to him now. He seemed like nothing so much as a sulking boy, and she instinctively knew that a display of temper or tears on her part would only make him angry.
“What would you like to do today, Tony?”
“Whatever you wish.” He said it grudgingly, as though it were his duty to do what she wished.
“Perhaps we could just take a walk and look around the town by daylight.”
“Yes, of course, whenever you are ready,” he said from the depths of the paper.
She finished her breakfast in silence, but the bites of toast had a hard time getting past the lump in her throat. She felt herself to be in a tense situation, felt that one wrong word would be enough to endanger their future together. When she had eaten a reasonable amount, she went to put on her hat and gloves. She took her time over this, and was somewhat pleased to see, when she returned to the room, that Tony had at least had some coffee.
* * *
They walked down the Marine Parade in silence in the warm September sun. She had remembered from her trip to Belgium how delicious the sea air smelled. She was about to make some such comment to Tony when he remarked out of nowhere, “I suppose Wentworth and his friends will be sniggering about me.”
Sera saw them then, the same few young bloods who had been there the previous evening. Wentworth looked uncertainly at Tony. Sera shook her head no, and the young man went back to disputing with his friends over something. “They don’t look at all like they are sniggering. Most probably he is trying to decide if he should risk apologizing to you or just consider himself well out of a dangerous situation.”
Tony left off his beetling scrutiny of the group of men, and as soon as he glanced toward Sera, they made off. “What are you talking about?” he asked, glaring after the young men, who glanced nervously back at him.
“When I informed him you had been wounded in a duel, Wentworth straightaway became very apologetic. I can only assume he thought your opponent got the worst of the affair.”
“What?” Tony stopped to stare at her.
“He must have assumed you were striding off to get your pistols when you left so hastily last night. He did not stay. I suppose just now he had one friend urging him to do the manly thing and offer you an apology while the other advised him to split and run.”
Tony teetered for a moment on the edge of amazement, wondering if he should be angry with Sera, but the satisfied little smile she gave when she finished this speech tipped him into a laugh. “How could you lead that stupid boy into thinking me a desperate character?” He shook his head and smiled at her.
Sera chuckled then, too. “I assure you I said nothing untruthful. You don’t suppose he will cut short his stay just because he fears to be called out by you?”
“I don’t suppose anything of the kind. What exactly did you say to him?”
Since Tony was still laughing, she answered without hesitation, “Only that it was too late to apologize, or some such thing, since he had already set your back up.”
“Of the two of us, I think you are the more dangerous,” Tony vowed.
“Me? What harm could I do?”
Tony was still chuckling when Sera felt his arm suddenly stiffen in her loose grip and saw him flush as though in pain. He was looking at a gaily dressed young woman walking toward then between two gentleman and laughing at their sallies.
She was blond and strikingly beautiful, Sera had to admit, but only in a theatrical way. Her exaggerated features were distinctive at a distance.
Tony hesitated. They would have to either cross the street or turn around to avoid the trio, who had not noticed them yet. Sera looked at Tony sympathetically. He had now gone somewhat pale.
“It’s Lady Vonne, isn’t it?” Sera asked quietly. He gave a guilty start. “Do you mind so much?” Sera continued. “We shall have to meet her sooner or later. Perhaps it’s best to get it over with.”
“Do you always run at your problems head-on?” Tony asked with a faint smile, as he took her hand more securely.
“It sometimes even works.” She laughed and started to walk on. He could do nothing but go with her. She noticed that Lady Madeleine Vonne, too, blushed at the sight of Tony, and then looked at her angrily, even though she was herself on the arms of two gentlemen, neither of them Lord Vonne. Madeleine stiffened even more as Tony introduced Sera to her, to Lord Meade and to Sir Randall Yates.
Lady Madeleine looked Sera up and down. She was jealous to see this nobody on Tony’s arm, and the thought of his making love to this chit whipped her passionate nature to indiscretion. “I had heard you married the daughter of a cit, Tony. I see it’s true.” Both Lord Meade and Sir Randall gasped. The dumbstruck look had scarcely appeared on Tony’s face when a ripple of laughter from Sera caught them all off guard.
“Tony told me about your sense of humor. But this is wonderful. Such wit is a rare treat.” Lady Madeleine did not appreciate being appreciated, and ground her teeth. “Wait until I tell Lord Grenville that Father has been called a cit. He will get a chuckle out of that.”
“You know Lord Grenville?” Lady Madeleine gasped involuntarily.
Sera had purposely picked the name of the most influential of her father’s