by Meara Platt
Christian clenched his teeth and stared out the window at the familiar passing scenery.
She was no longer furious with him but of course, she was skeptical. He waited expectantly for her attempts to convince him how senseless his concerns were.
“I won’t attempt to talk you out of it. If anyone could have done that already, I imagine you would have done it yourself.”
Her words had him glancing at her after all.
“Before Calvin was killed, I could ignore it,” he admitted. Her hand remained resting on his knee. “I don’t mean to do it, you know.” At her curious expression, he flicked his glance to his knee. “It drives Bernadette mad.” And then he immediately regretted his choice of words. “The tapping,” he added.
Lillian’s response to that was to massage the outer edge of his knee with her thumb.
He wanted to believe that at least some of what transpired between the two of them had been real, had been honest. He’d gotten too greedy, though.
She had entered their marriage under false pretenses. He could not require her to keep up her end of their bargain.
“It’s possible that an annulment can be arranged.” Or purchased, anyhow. “I apologize for the misunderstanding.” God, and what a mild term that was to describe the poor communication between the two of them.
“Is that what you want?” Her voice sounded timid for the first time since she’d handed him that damn advertisement yesterday. Yesterday! Had it only been yesterday? It felt like a lifetime.
When he didn’t respond, she removed her hand from his leg. “What if I am already with child? You yourself admitted to me that the men in your family were quite potent in that regard. It’s not as though we only did it once. Four times if I remember—”
“What would you suggest, then? I hardly imagine you want to remain with a man who’s betrayed you so blatantly.” Her earlier words still stung. “Even worse, one whom you think ought to be shipped off to Bedlam.”
An annulment was not what he wanted, and yet, he did not want her to stay with him out of pity. He’d gone into this debacle of a marriage thinking them equal partners. He would get his heir, God willing, and she the independence that came with widowhood.
“I don’t think you ought to be shipped off to Bedlam. You have reasons for believing what you do. If you hadn’t any reasons…” She shrugged. “Perhaps then I might think you were a bit dicked in the nob.”
“I’m glad you find all of this amusing.” He frowned.
But she was not laughing. “Christian? I am not laughing at you. I am relieved to know you did not lie to me. Even more importantly, I am greatly relieved to know that you are not suffering.” And then she added, “Physically. It broke my heart to think of you in pain.”
“I am going to die, though,” he reminded her. He would not pretend otherwise.
She nodded somberly. “Then I see no reason why we should not go forward as planned.”
The two of them had already proven to be poor communicators, especially when one of them thought he or she was hearing what he or she wanted to hear. “With our marriage, you mean?” He would clarify her meaning.
She nodded. “To provide you with an heir.”
Christian studied her suspiciously. “Just so you are not going ahead with this under any false assumptions… I am going to die, you know.”
“We’re all going to die someday, Christian.” But then she pulled her lips tight. “But yes, I understand that you believe you are going to die sooner than most.”
“I don’t just believe it, Lillian. I know it.”
“Of course.”
They stared at one another, unspeaking for several seconds, almost as though they were having some sort of a standoff, until he eventually nodded. “Just so you understand.”
Her face softened. “I understand. But may I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“What happens if you don’t die? What happens then?”
Christian rubbed a hand through his hair and began tapping his foot again without her hand to still it. He’d not had much sleep the night before and neither had she. “We’ll worry about that in fifty years or so,” he growled.
And she didn’t really deserve it. The worst part of this entire morning was that he’d fooled himself into thinking he could be happy in his last days. He’d fooled himself.
He opened the window between the driver’s box and the interior. “You may return to Master’s House now,” he shouted to the driver.
When he sat back, he felt her unhappiness as well. He supposed that was what happened when people tried to fool themselves.
They all became much wiser.
Chapter Nine
An Uncompromising Predicament
Upon returning to Master’s House, Christian excused himself and then disappeared and failed to return even for the evening meal.
Lillian thought she understood. He needed time.
She needed time.
Could they move past this? Deciding to go forward hoping for the best, she took advantage of the remainder of the day to meet with and ask questions of Mrs. Drysdale, the housekeeper, Mrs. Boyd, the cook, and then introduce herself to all of the other servants. Although the townhouse was not as large as most country estates, it required a good deal of work to keep everything functioning efficiently. The servants had gone a long time without a mistress so Lillian stepped lightly.
And since her husband had yet to return, she dined alone with his sister, making up an excuse for Christian’s absence but feeling humiliated that he’d leave her to dine alone with his sister on this first full day of their marriage. Conversation with Bernadette had been stilted at first but by the end of the meal, Lillian was pleased in that they’d taken a small step toward friendship.
She smiled and listened to her new sister-in-law despite feeling exhausted, worried, and heartsick. Bernadette’s gaze would periodically shift to the head of the table, as did Lillian’s. Christian’s absence was felt acutely.
His sister must have had a multitude of questions for her about the sudden wedding, but it seemed that the two of them would both avoid the giant elephant in the room.
They discussed the weather and then moved on to fashion. They shared a few small things in common. Neither of them liked onions, it seemed, and both of them preferred sunshine to rain.
Once back in her chamber, as Becky brushed and braided her hair, Lillian wondered if all her efforts would be for naught. Would he seek an annulment after all? Her eyes flicked to the window each time a horse or carriage rode by, but none of them carried her husband home.
My husband.
Would he remain such?
My home.
But was it?
She felt quite misplaced as she crawled into her bed alone. Last night he had carried her to the bed and after that, neither had done much sleeping.
Was she fooling herself? Where had he had been all day?She’d never asked him if he had a mistress. She’d assumed he did not but as the minutes turned into hours, she grew sad and then angry before finally drifting into a troubled and broken sleep. She awoke every time she thought she heard sounds coming from the neighboring suite and so was not taken by surprise when she finally heard the door quietly swing open.
She would refused to open her eyes. She would feign sleep.
He’d come to her from God only knew where after being gone for most of the day. Tears squeezed from beneath her lashes, but she choked back the sob that wanted to escape.
She was angry and frustrated and utterly unwilling to make this easy for him.
“Lillian.”
She pinched her eyes closed tighter.
After a rustling of clothes and then a pause, the mattress dipped. She stiffened as he climbed into bed beside her and then tentatively edged closer until his body formed an arc around hers.
“Lillian.”
“I’m asleep,” she answered.
He embraced her from behind. “I’m
sorry. It was… I––”
“If you are coming to me from another woman’s bed, I beg of you to leave at once.” Only he didn’t smell like perfume, smoke, or even liquor.
“I was walking.”
She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. “Walking? All day?”
She felt his nod behind her head. “And thinking.”
Lillian waited.
“Everything you said today… it makes perfect sense. I know that.” He buried his head in her hair. “I don’t want to believe I’m going to die, but I have no choice… I’m so damn sorry for bringing you into all of this. I never imagined how I could hurt you. Have I hurt you? I think that I have. I don’t know what to do.”
The sob escaped as she rolled around to face him. In the moonlight, she could see the pain in his eyes. And doubt. And uncertainty.
She touched his face. “People hurt one another without intending to all the time. But that is quite different from intentionally doing the same. I like you, Christian.” Oh, but it would not be very difficult to come to love him. “Your actions will always have the ability to hurt the people who care for you. And I will not lie to you. That you believe you are going to die hurts me.”
“I can’t help it.” One of his hands was caressing the dip in her waist and the other cradled her face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But there is no turning back.” Already her body was responding to his. Without consciously deciding to forgive him, she welcomed his kiss.
She welcomed his touch.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured the words over and over again as his mouth trailed around her chin, his hands lifting her gown.
She clutched the sides of his head, holding him to her breast, comforting him in the only way she knew how, and opened her legs so he could settle himself between them.
Their lovemaking the night before had been cautious and lighthearted as they’d explored one another, both of them feeling safe.
This lovemaking was frantic, compelled by the perils that lurked between them. She saw the future in terms of uncertainty. He saw no future at all.
But they were bound together, legally and by… something else.
And as their bodies came together, all of it fell away. He belonged inside of her. She arched her back and urged him deeper. A combination of panic and wanting and pain and… love. Yes, in that moment, it was love that drove them both.
And when white lightning shot through her body at the same time the warmth of his seed filled her, Lillian didn’t know if she felt joy or despair.
When she awoke the next morning, she was alone.
In the following days, although he wasn’t ever as relaxed and open with her as he’d been initially, he came to her every night and his touch was always loving and passionate. Afterward, they sometimes fell right to sleep and other times discussed trivial events and household matters.
He wanted to know how she was getting along with Bernadette, did she miss her sisters, and which events they should plan to attend. They never discussed anything farther into the future than a day or so. It was the one topic they could not agree on. For this reason, they avoided any subject that bordered on emotional intimacy. Because then they would have to acknowledge one another’s feelings, one another’s beliefs. And acknowledging them would then require some sort of commitment for the future.
They were able to be vulnerable with their bodies but not with their hearts.
Oh, but she liked him. She loved when he let his guard down, she loved watching him with his sister, she especially loved the evenings they spent together by the hearth, her reading a fictional novel and him going over various correspondence.
But their relationship was fraught with rules, and those rules created tension.
On some of these evenings, she only pretended to read wishing she could tell him that she was happy with him but also afraid.
What would she do if he was to actually die? If some tragedy befell him? Was it possible that he could subconsciously fulfill his own prophecy?
Her fears were irrational, she knew, and yet he was so very adamant about his destiny that it was beginning to frighten her.
And other worries took shape as well. She wanted to conceive, she did! She wanted to give him the reassurances that he sought, and yet also hoped it would not happen right away. She was fearful that once she’d fulfilled that purpose, he would end their lovemaking.
There were times when she could almost believe that their arrangement was not meant to be temporary––times she felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to anyone before. But when she awoke, in the morning, she was always alone.
She knew what he was doing. He was protecting her, or so he believed. He did not want her to become attached to a man who was certain to die.
Ridiculous man! As if she could stop herself from developing feelings for him.
And she knew that all of this was as difficult for him as it was for her. He sometimes woke her with his nightmares. On those occasions, she simply held him and stroked his hair.
In a much more straightforward manner, Lillian had begun to develop a delicate friendship with his sister. She had taken Bernadette shopping, and to museums and Gunter’s. The two of them had even visited her mother together on a few occasions. Her relationship with her sister-in-law was moving forward, slowly, but it was growing.
Her relationship with her husband was at a standstill.
They could not go on like this much longer. She knew this.
The uncertainty, the tiptoeing around one another— it was exhausting.
On the third day of the second week of their marriage, they were finally going to appear in public as a married couple. Being as it was yet summer, the affair was to be a small musicale, hosted by the Earl and Countess of Fitzhubert. Nonetheless, the Duke of Warwick’s rushed marriage would be noted.
She fidgeted in her room. She hadn’t ever been overly concerned with the opinions of others, but she had married in haste and there was always the possibility that people had leaped to unkind conclusions.
She had purchased a new gown for the event and Becky had styled her hair into an unusually artful coiffure. Staring into the mirror, she inhaled a deep breath but then jumped when a knock sounded from the adjoining door.
He had not visited her chamber in the light of day since the morning after their wedding night.
“Come in!” The door swung open and he stepped inside. Dressed formally in a black woolen jacket, an evergreen waistcoat, and a pristine linen shirt, he nearly stole her breath. His cravat had been tied pleasingly, his shoes were buffed and shined, and the trousers he wore could not have fit him any more perfectly. He seemed to have become even more handsome with each passing day. Her heart squeezed as he crossed the room.
“Turn around.” He smiled tentatively.
When she did as he asked, she saw her own reflection. He stared at something in his hands, and then lifted his gaze to meet hers.
When he touched her shoulders, and then dropped a cool chain around her neck, she couldn’t prevent the shiver that rolled through her.
“Are you cold?” His voice sounded above her ear. But she could only shake her head in answer.
A diamond pendant rested at the top of the vee of her cleavage, sparkling with promise.
“It is beautiful. But not necessary.”
He met her eyes in the mirror. “You are beautiful, and I wanted to.”
It was an apology, she knew. But she didn’t want an apology. She wanted…
“I’m sorry.” He gave her a week smile before removing his spectacles and then running one hand down his face. “You don’t deserve any of this.”
He appeared nearly as miserable as she felt.
All of this was far more complicated than it ought to have been. She knew he wasn’t intentionally making things difficult, but she couldn’t help but be frustrated.
During the night hours, in the darkness, his touch was as familiar as her own. In
the light of day, they measured everything they said to one another, fearful that their words might be hurtful in some way––fearful of being hurt in return.
His gaze slid from her eyes to her bosoms and then back up. He shook his head and blinked. “After you conceive, I think it might be best if you took Bernadette to Winter’s Edge.”
She’d been surprisingly hurt when he’d suggested they seek an annulment and now he had done it again. Only this time, it was worse. Much worse. This was something they ought to have discussed with one another. She’d married him, ironically enough, so that she would not live her life bending to her husband’s will.
“We can discuss it, if you wish.” She hardened her voice. “But I will make such a decision on my own.”
They could not go on like this, but parting from one another was not the answer Lillian had hoped for. She turned to face him directly and then dropped her gaze and stared at his polished shoes.
“Bernadette is waiting downstairs by now. She will happy to see her brother, the one who cares so much for her that he is willing to marry a stranger.” Her words came out sounding cold, but she was angry with him. She was discouraged and saddened that he could not allow her to… love him.
Damn him.
Everything was backward now. None of this was what they’d planned.
But it could have been better. Oh, so much better.
“You are not a stranger.” His eyes implored her. “You will be happier there. Every day since our wedding, I see more sadness in your eyes. I see your disappointment. I never intended to make you unhappy. ”
She twisted her mouth into a painful smile. “Not every bride manages to be sent away by their groom so quickly. I had hoped…”
“Lillian.” He lifted his hands, almost as though he wanted to embrace her from behind but then stopped himself. “I cannot. I simply want to protect you from the pain of…”
“Your death? Of losing you?” She was unable to prevent frustration from sounding in her voice. She resented his conviction but also knew that arguing was not the answer.
