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Her mother finished chewing unhurriedly before answering. “I am certain she had a good reason.”

Tyrone couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips. He noticed that his wife relaxed her grip on the fork, too.

“I am beginning to see the resemblance between you two,” he said, looking from mother to daughter. More than in appearance. Then he shrugged in his carefree manner as he poked at his food. “I mean that as a compliment.”

His wife flicked a glance at him that said, I doubt it, and he flashed her a smile.

The atmosphere lightened around the table. His wife turned to one of her sisters and asked something about a piano piece she was working on. Tyrone didn’t listen for the specifics. He just enjoyed the comforting buzz of conversation floating about the table and watched his wife and her siblings tease each other back and forth about their musical talents or lack thereof.

Tyrone watched his wife, his chest filling with warmth with her every smile, butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he heard her laugh.

She was beautiful.

He remembered the first time he saw her quite vividly. And he couldn’t figure out how he had found her plain at that moment. As he watched the animated features of her face, her radiant smile and glittering eyes that shone like diamonds, the short, wavy hair that bounced with her every movement, he couldn’t see her as anything but gorgeous.

She glanced at him then, a questioning look in her eyes. He’d been staring at her for a long time, he realized. Instead of hastily looking away, he raised a brow in challenge.

Her cheeks instantly reddened, and she shook her head at him as though he was a mischievous boy caught stealing sweets from the kitchen.

“I enjoyed the outing to the park,” the boy said as Tyrone returned his attention to the table.

“Until we were cut,” one of his sisters noted.

Cut?

“Perhaps we should go with the duke next time,” the duchess offered, “so he can show his acceptance of us.”

The table descended into silence for a short moment. They were waiting for his answer.

“I hate being on display,” he answered distractedly. Were they cut? When was this? An uncomfortable ache settled in his chest.

“We should hold a musical then,” the youngest sister said with a dose of sarcasm. “Then we will definitely be shunned by the ton for the rest of our lives.”

The young boy quickly changed the subject and started talking about horses or races. Tyrone wasn’t listening anymore.

He remembered his wife’s earlier words about being treated with disdain. And how he, the idiot, had not paid any attention.

Why would he? In his drunken stupor and then the fog of early soberness, nothing mattered to him. But as he sat surrounded by the friendly and cheerful banter, he couldn’t help but remember the silent, tension-filled dinners of his childhood. And he never wanted to be the reason this house was filled with tension ever again.

“We are going to the theater on the morrow,” the duke announced from the threshold of the adjoining room that evening, making Emily jump.

Brushing her hair by the soothing, crackling fire, she hadn’t noticed the door opening. She didn’t even know the duke was in the house. He had left soon after breakfast, and she assumed he would stay away until the end of the night. Probably drinking.

Yet, here he was, as large as life, and as sober as she’d ever seen him. And all her attempts at calming herself had vanished at the first sound of his voice. Her brush slipped past her fingers and fell to the floor with a dull thud.

His gaze lingered on her hair, a strange glint in his eyes. Emily’s hand self-consciously flew to caress the short locks curling by her ears. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. You wanted us to go out as a family, did you not? So people would see that I acknowledge you as my wife.”

Emily cocked her head to the side in surprise. She hadn’t thought he'd paid attention to her words.

“I reserved a booth for tomorrow. All…” He paused as if working something out in his mind. “...five of us?”

Emily raised a brow. Six.

“Seven? It doesn’t matter. The booth has enough seats to fit everyone.”

“I don’t think it is proper to bring children to the theater. And Harriet, although of appropriate age, is not out in society yet.”