Work Text:
It was hardly her new husband’s fault that he had happened on Kagami crying, she thought later. At the time, she was so embarrassed to be caught with a crack in her careful, ladylike veneer—and so frustrated with her mother’s unyielding demands—that she allowed her tongue to betray her. The truth, or a fury-tinted version of it, had slipped out.
Félix, wearing a clumsily knitted sweater that seemed downright comical when worn by a newly-inducted member of the House of Lords, stared at her. The pruning shears he had been carrying had slipped out of his hand.
“A callous fop?” he repeated in the dull, grey voice Kagami had come to loathe. And then, to her utter surprise, he began to laugh.
Félix had laughed at their wedding, of course. And, in their three months of marriage, he had occasionally laughed at jokes various contractors or house guests made at dinner. But that had been a dry, social, polite laugh, completely artificial. It might fool a layman, but Kagami had a well-crafted fake laugh just like it.
This laugh was real, and it transformed Félix’s entire face. For the first time, Kagami saw the handsomeness others had assured her was there when the news of their arranged marriage became public. Félix’s eyes sparkled, and there was new color in his cheeks. The corners of his mouth dimpled. He looked like a different person. He looked kind, and honest.
Kagami loved honest people the way a man stranded in the desert loves water. This was the first sign of any genuine nature that her husband had displayed in three months, and it captivated her. No sooner had she allowed herself to become intrigued by this change than Félix seemed to become aware that she was watching him. The grey dullness stole back across his features at once, and all traces of laughter died.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said, bowing.
Stopping only to retrieve his pruning shears from the gravel path, Félix left Kagami alone with her tears and her anger and her mother’s letter.
“We will receive Ms. Lila Rossi, the Italian diplomat’s daughter, in two weeks’ time,” said Kagami at dinner. Her husband gave no reaction, so she added, “She will stay for five days.”
Félix, cold and grey as ever, sipped his wine. “I trust she will find the Rose Suite suitable,” he said.
A silent procession of servants refreshed their drinks and ladled clear fish soup into two bowls at either end of the long, empty table. Kagami did not scream, cry, or allow sudden, violent passion to goad her into calling the Marquis de Vanily more childish names. She took measured, ladylike bites of her meal.
It was hardly Félix’s fault that she was unhappy.
Later that evening, Kagami sat up to embroider by the fireplace in her sitting room. It would likely be scandalous if it became widely known just how grateful she was that her husband preferred to maintain a bedroom of his own in another wing of their manor. Therefore, it startled her when he appeared in the doorway. Félix knocked twice on the doorframe to let Kagami know he was there.
“You were crying in the garden, my lady,” he said without preamble. “Setting your rather disparaging remarks aside, what conclusion am I expected to draw?”
Kagami stuck her needle into the center of her project and put it aside. “You must conclude that I, like you, am accustomed to keeping my emotions close to my chest,” she said, watching her husband’s face.
Félix wore a well-made dressing gown with the Graham de Vanily family crest embroidered above his heart. The embroidery was imperfect. Kagami could have done better. He frowned.
“What is mine is yours,” said Félix. “It was in the wedding vows. You need only to ask what I am feeling, and I will answer.”
Kagami narrowed her eyes. “I am not interested in games.”
Félix chose an armchair across from hers and sat. “I would never presume to suggest such a thing. But you have a quick tongue. You’re clever.” Indicating her embroidery, he added, “And you’re skilled with your hands. You don’t fit the profile I was lead to expect.”
“Nor do you, with your gardening,” said Kagami. It seemed only fair to counter his observations with her own. “Our gardens are unusually well-stocked with rare plants.”
Félix nodded. “You noticed that today when you were crying there,” he said. “Why?”
“Why go to the gardens to cry?” Kagami felt her temper rising, but she refused to give in to it again. “I dislike public displays of emotion. As do you, or you would have said these things at dinner, in front of the servants.”
“A gentleman never brings up matters that might spoil a lady’s appetite at the table,” said Félix. “I’m not any happier than you are, you know. My uncle manages my late father’s estate, and as far as he was concerned it was marriage or disownment for me. I would have lost the gardens. Your turn.”
Kagami took a deep breath. Félix was a callous fop in front of and behind his façade, it seemed. Nevertheless, his honesty was refreshing. She had felt so alone that afternoon. And what did it matter if her husband, this confusing stranger, disbelieved her like all the rest?
“Ms. Rossi and I are old acquaintances,” Kagami began. “We attended the same finishing school, and for a time we were best friends. But in our third year there, we had a falling out. Lila—Ms. Rossi—told such shocking lies about me that I lost most of my connections and was forced to leave in disgrace. Even my mother has never believed me.”
Félix considered this. “And she wants to stay with us for five days.”
“She wants to gloat,” said Kagami. “Before our falling out, my marital prospects were much more promising. My mother has always believed that a public reconciliation with Ms. Rossi will herald my return into my old circles.”
Her husband smiled a surprisingly catlike smile. “Ms. Rossi wants to gloat,” he mused. “And of course she’s familiar with my reputation—my uncle's long since run it through the mud. We have a mutual distaste for liars, it seems.”
Félix took Kagami’s hand. His eyes glittered in the firelight. His suppressed handsomeness was back with greater intensity than before. There was nothing dull or grey about him now.
“My lovely wife, since we’ve each already been punished for our perceived social transgressions via arranged marriage, would you allow me, in return, to arrange exactly the kind of miserable visit Ms. Rossi already plans to tell the world she suffered at our estate? You’ll find I can be beautifully discreet.”
Kagami leaned forward. “Your offer is intriguing, my lord,” she breathed. “May I make one in return?”
Félix cocked his head, waiting. The flickering glow of the fire made his blond hair seem almost orange. Their faces were closer together than they had been since the wedding. “But of course,” said Félix.
They watched each other as if they were observing rare birds in the jungle, neither daring to make a sudden move and frighten the other back into hiding.
“If you give Ms. Rossi the visit she deserves,” said Kagami, “you must bring me to visit your uncle so I may return the favor.”
Félix’s hidden dimples returned in full force from wherever they hid when he was pretending to be boring. “It would be my honor.”
Something tangible had shifted in the air between them. It was bright and uncertain and utterly captivating. And Kagami had spent too long denying herself the privilege to act on wayward impulses. She closed the gap.
Félix, Marquis de Vanily, had very soft lips. His hair was long enough to grab in a clenched fist. When Kagami put a firm hand on the back of his neck to keep him where she wanted him, he shivered, moaning into her mouth.
“What are your interests?” he demanded, pulling away at last. “If we’re going to try to make each other happy, I need to know.”
“Drawing,” said Kagami at once. “I enjoy fencing as well. And we must have someone beat the rugs in here in the morning. It’s far too dusty down here on the floor.”
Félix, lying on his back on said floor, reached up to trace the curve of her cheek. “I agree. You’ll need instructors and supplies for both hobbies. May I assume you’re at a rather advanced level?”
“You may,” said Kagami. She took a moment to loosen the top buttons of Félix’s nightshirt to see if kissing his neck would make him moan again. It did.
“I applaud you,” said Félix, rather faintly. “And I humbly submit that your bed—and mine—are likely dust-free.”
“I can only promise to consider your proposal,” said Kagami, and paused to kiss him so deeply that he was left gasping. “After all, this location is perfectly convenient for me.”