Foolishly Falling for You

7

Tea parties are uniquely humiliating because it's clear to see the disparity with which my husband treats me. He sits beside me, speaks to everyone else, and ignores me, usually.

We sit at the table, with ladies from our quaint neighborhood. Women and men of influence. In these circles, the first thing people pick up on is your relationship with your spouse. 

It sets the tone for how you will be treated. 

Lance's hand is on my shoulder, his eyes on his tea as he ignores the conversation happening around him.

"We'll do summer on the Port Florence. We have a lovely little home there," Countess Aria says with a simper, her eyes on me.

We don't vacation. Lance is just not the vacationing type. Or...really any kind of fun.

"Lance thinks he'll be leaving soon, so I'll keep house, until he returns. I doubt I'll have the time to get out that way," I smile.

"Lance I hear you're ready to be promoted again," One of the counts says, no doubt aiming for something. I forget his name. "Will you and your wife celebrate?"

Lance glances at me for a moment, but shrugs. "War is hardly a cause for celebration, save for the end of it."

The count blinks and then smiles, trying again. "Then a going away party?"

Lance frowns. "Why would I celebrate my possible demise? Are you wishing death upon me, Count Moreland?"

It's a wonder we get invited to these things anymore. I stifle my laugh at his cluelessness. 

"No!" The count raises his hands, red and flustered. "Of course not, I just meant...a gathering of your family and friends to wish you well and safe passage."

Lance pauses and sips his tea. "My family and friends consist of my wife. She will wish me well before I go. It's enough."

I clutch his hand under the table, squeezing it. He frowns and shrugs, looking confused.

I nod at the count, silently telling him to calm the count down. 

"That is to say, my wife and I will be having something small. Intimate," He amends himself, frowning at me inquisitively, silently asking if this were enough.

I nod and smile. He smiles back, and squeezes my shoulder. He seems in an odd mood. We ride home in the carriage, my eyes out the window. It's a nice day.

"Michael said something interesting not too long ago," he muses.

"Hm? Is that so?" I ask without much feeling.

"He says..." The carriage shakes with his pauses. "He says you have given up your pursuit of love."

"Mh..."

Lance clears his throat. "And I told him, that was preposterous. It's you. It's me. It's natural."

"Is it?" I muse, watching the road pass.

Lance pauses again. He's not usually so hesitant with me. 

'Is it true? You have given up on me?" He asks lightly.

I swallow and shrug. "You will be pleased to hear I have."

Lance is quiet still, but he usually is so I don't continue.

"Why?"

I frown, turning to face him. "I'm sorry did I mishear you?"

Lance frowns back at me. "I asked why."

I frown, choosing my words carefully. "Because...you've been telling me to for 20 years?"

Lance blinks and shakes his head. "I...I did not like how intense your affections were, but I did not hate that you had it."

Well, that's just the opposite of everything he's ever said to me. Then again, this easily explained. He doesn't like change.

"Hm, well. No matter."

Lance frowns. "Of course, it matters. I don't dislike you, Anita. I just...don't know how to respond to you, and that irritates me. So I come off harsh. But I...enjoy our familiarity, on occasion."

On occasion. I bet he thinks he's doing a wonderful job mending our clearly broken marriage.

"Anita?" He prompts me. 

I clear my throat. "Yes, yes. I understand."

He smiles. "You do? Then...have we resolved this issue?"

I nod. "Very resolved."

Lance nods, satisfied. "Good. I'm glad. Then we'll have dinner together, like always."

The carriage stops at our home, I get out, without waiting for him. "I will have dinner in my room tonight," I inform him.

He narrows his eyes. "But you just--"

I smile. "I will see you...on occasion."

Lance frowns, getting off the carriage, following me. "I admit I have been...lacking as a husband. But surely, you can see how overwhelming you can be."

"Yes, surely," I murmured, trudging upstairs.

"Anita," He calls. 

I glance back at him. 

He swallows and looks up at me. "Are you saying...you don't love me anymore?"

I smile gently. "Pray tell me... what is there to love?"

"I have been the same person for 20 years. Since you've met me. Nothing has changed."

I open my bedroom door. "Exactly," I slam the door.