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Penny sighed. It was still a sore topic.

“No, I have not,” she managed to put a smile on her face. The ladies exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“How is life as a married woman?” Eleanor turned her attention to Penny who colored fiercely.

“There is nothing special about it yet. I have been focused on finding a respectable match for Lydia.” The ladies giggled.

“So, you have not done thedeed?” Marina leaned forward with dancing brows.

“Marina! That is not a proper topic for tea!” Penny’s flush deepened to crimson.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I shall switch to a more accommodating topic. Where is this duke of yours?”

* * *

What could she be laughing about?

Rhysand had his back to Angleton, staring out the window of this study that oversaw the garden in all its colorful glory. The colors being his beloved wife and her friends sipping tea and laughing.

His fingers drummed distractedly on the glass he nursed. Rhysand could hardly believe he delved into day drinking, because ofher. He watched her, she had a satisfied dimpled smile as she served her friends.

Had the halls been too dark for them that they agreed upon having tea in a garden with no flowers?

She looked happy though, if the smile on her face was anything to go by. Bright, like the sun. Sunshine.His Sunshine.

“Are you listening to me, or would you prefer I give you more time to ogle your wife?” Rhysand spun and narrowed his eyes at Angleton, who he feared had become even more comfortable with visiting his house.

Angleton arrived a few minutes agofor business, or so he claimed. Rhysand knew better. He saw that boyish look in his eyes, the kind that could not wait to see his beloved. He knew the business Angleton came for had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with Lydia, but the only reason Angleton was not in the drawing room or taking a stroll with his beloved, was because she was too busy having tea.

“I am notoglingmy wife,” Rhysand said in a grudging voice.

“Would you prefer a truer verb? Maybe leering?”

“How ridiculous!” Rhysand released a frustrated sigh and wondered why he was putting up with Angleton. “I was notleering.I was simply looking out the window. ‘Tis a fine day today,” Rhysand replied and took a swig of the whiskey in his hand.

“At your wife, who is conveniently sitting out in the open–”

“You cannot fault me for looking out the window. I did not tell her to sit there.” Rhysand felt the strong urge to defend himself. “I wager I cannot tell her to do anything.” He looked down at the glass in his hand and twirled the liquid in it with a shake of his wrist.

“What do you mean?”

“You saw the place. She has turned the entire house into an indoor garden, or perhaps she is in the process of doing it, despite my protests.”

“If I remember correctly, you claimed you did not care what she thought about the house. Perhaps you not only care about what she thinks, you also care about her?”

“I do not. She did all of this in my absence. I returned to the entire place reeking of flowers and fresh paint. An abominable combination.”

“At least it looks welcoming. People will no longer be scared to step into this mausoleum you had for a house.”

Rhysand narrowed his eyes at him.

“I do wonder why the flowers and walls are still intact if you claim to hate it so much,” Angleton placed a finger under his jaw.

The smile in Rhysand’s eyes was distant.

“I plan to turn the place back to normal after she leaves. For the sake of peace, I shall allow it; her need to turn things around. It must be boredom."

To this, Philip was quiet. What could he say? He had tried his best to help his friend see he could have a normal relationship with his wife, but Huxton had always been too stubborn for his own good.