"I know," he said.
He offered her his handkerchief, because he was not going to be unkind, and she took it, and the transaction had the slightly unreal quality of two people agreeing, without saying so, to pretend that the last five minutes had taken a different shape.
“You are much too kind,” she whispered.
“You compliment me too much,” he replied.
“I do not think I compliment you enough considering all you do for me,” she said, stepping toward him again.
“I am just helping my wife’s sister,” he reiterated.
“I know,” she said, a slight lilt in her voice.
“Clarissa—”
Before he could stop her, she kissed his cheek. His eyes widened, and he felt his cheeks flush, heat rising up his neck like it did when they were courting.
“I will meet you soon,” she said gently. “Somewhere private, so people do not misunderstand what they are seeing.”
“No, we…” his voice trailed off.
“We would not wish to worry Genevieve now, would we?” she asked.
“I… I suppose not.”
“I will see you soon,” she smiled, turning and walking out of the room.
For a few moments, he was quiet, his hand on his cheek where she had placed the kiss.
What had he done?
No, he thought. There will be distance; I will ensure it next time. I need to be an honorable gentleman and assist my wife’s sister in her time of need.
Even as he thought those words to himself, his mind went to Genevieve. She would worry if she knew. She would wear that tight smile she wore whenever Clarissa was spoken of, not the smile that looked like sunflowers in June.
He sat down and sighed.
He would do everything in his power not to worry his wife.
Chapter 20
It was a week after the tea party that Thomas insisted they visit Epsom Downs. Apparently a gathering was taking place. Preparations for the larger, later races were speeding along, and some wager had been set, and now it had become an event that they simply had to go to.
“Your father really never took you or Clarissa to see horse races?” Thomas asked as the carriage rattled along toward Epsom.
“No,” Genevieve shook his head.
“Well, I am glad to be changing that today,” Thomas nodded. “It would be good for us to be seen together, and…” he paused. “Perhaps a day like this is what is needed for me to make up for my foolish behavior.”
“Thomas,” she said softly, almost embarrassed that her annoyance at the tea party had made him think he needed to make reparations. “You do not need to do such a thing.”
“Oh, but I do,” he nodded, taking her hand in his. “What kind of a husband would I be if I acted in such a way and made no attempt to repair the damage or make it right?”
“Not a very good one, I suppose,” she sighed. “Although I cannot say that most husbands would think to take their wife to a trial derby.”
“Well…” he laughed as the carriage came to a stop. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
Genevieve had not expected the noise level. She had imagined something approximately like a country fair. A cheerful, slightly disorganized afternoon affair with moderate crowds and a general sense of goodwill. What spread before her across the broad flat field was altogether livelier, louder, and considerably more vivid than that.