Any Other Name

by Emma Newman

  “In Mundanus the groom carries the bride over the threshold,” he said as he pushed the door open to the scent of fresh iris flowers.

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “After you then.”

  The apartment was in the centre of London within walking distance of practically every famous landmark. He’d almost forgotten what the constant rumbling of a city’s background noise was like, and the smell of the polluted air. The sound of sirens and car horns took him back to his Grand Tour. He looked forward to exploring the city again.

  Catherine walked in with slumped shoulders, radiating misery. Will drew in a deep breath and readied himself for the challenge ahead.

  He locked the front door against the rest of the world and followed his wife inside. She looked so different, it was hard to believe she was the same woman he’d struggled to talk to during the engagement. She still looked like Catherine, only… better.

  The reception had passed without incident. The two Fae lords drew so much attention it made it easier to get through than for most couples. He’d worried that Catherine would have been incapable of polite conversation, and she did seem to take a long time to emerge after the talk with his mother, but she got through it well enough. He suspected she was too shell-shocked to cause any offence.

  He watched her drift towards the living room, the crystals in the train of the dress sparkling under the bright modern lights. It had been pinned up into a cascading set of ruffles and the veil was still attached to her hair. He tried to imagine unhooking all of those tiny clasps later that evening and wondered what she was like beneath all of the layers of silk.

  “It’s a nice place,” she said.

  “I told you we’d honeymoon in Mundanus.”

  “Honeymoon.” She shook her head.

  “It doesn’t quite seem real, does it?”

  “No, not even slightly.”

  They reached the candle-lit living room, its walls covered in art. The servants had arranged the supper beautifully and would now be resting in the apartment below until they were needed again. Will was pleased to see his instructions had been carried out, and checked his pocket watch as she looked at the paintings. Everything was on schedule.

  “I thought the reception went well,” he said. She didn’t reply. “Champagne?”

  “No. Thanks.”

  “Do you mind if I do?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He twisted out the cork and it opened with a perfect sigh. Pouring into a single flute seemed a tragic act so he poured out a little for her and carried the glass over.

  “Let’s toast the future, Catherine,” he said, holding it out to her.

  “I said I didn’t want any.”

  “Please. For me.”

  She took the glass and he chinked it gently. “To our future. May we find success and happiness together.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Did they put a Charm on you to have unfailing optimism in the face of doom or something?”

  He drained the glass. “I thought I’d make an effort. We can choose to be positive or drive each other mad. I hope you prefer the former.”

  “What did you think when you heard about what they did to me?”

  “You mean the Fidelity Charm?”

  “‘Fidelity Charm’? Is that what they call it? Oh, the joy of euphemisms.”

  “I was surprised. I thought about you. I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

  “Do you agree with it?”

  He took his empty glass back to the table, wanting a moment to gather his thoughts. “I can see why it’s done. Lord Iris is most particular when it comes to children, I suppose it’s a way to ensure they’re… of our blood.”

  “I asked you if you agree with it, not why it’s done. I understand that perfectly.”

  “I think it’s a rather harsh way to guarantee trust.”

  “Yes, I had you down as one to seduce a woman into being compliant, rather than forcing her.”

  He poured a larger glass of champagne. Catherine still hadn’t tasted hers. “I can see you’re angry. You’ve been furious about this from the very start and this certainly hasn’t helped.”

  “You bet your life it hasn’t.”

  “But I’m not the one who did this to you. And I’m not the one who forced you to marry me.”

  “But you moved the date! My father said you wanted to marry sooner. That screwed everything up! Why did you do that?”

  “Screwed what up?”

  Then she downed the champagne.

  “You were hoping to find a way out of it, weren’t you?”

  She shrugged in a most petulant manner and he had to consciously remind himself to remain patient. He was certain there was a way to bring her round. He needed her more than she realised and more than he liked to admit.

  “I pushed for the date to be changed to get you away from your father,” he replied, noting her surprise. “You didn’t think I’d see those bruises and do nothing, did you?”

  “I was scared you were going to tell someone. When nothing happened I just… I don’t know, I thought you’d forgotten about it.”

  “You think I’m that shallow? I was outraged. I would have gone and demanded an explanation from your father, had he been anyone else. But he and my father are close, and besides, it’s always best to make as few enemies as possible. I thought it better to remove you from the abuse by getting married sooner.”

  She was scowling at him. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

  “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  “So you just decided to rescue me instead.”

  He shook his head. “You’re very difficult to please, you know.”

  “I would like it if once, just once, a man would not decide what’s best for me without seeing how I feel about it first. Admit it, if it had been Oliver being beaten, you wouldn’t have just engineered his rescue.”

  “It would have been much harder to marry him.” He had hoped to crack the ice with a light joke, but she didn’t appreciate it.

  “The point is, it didn’t even occur to you that I might have an opinion. I was just a helpless girl.”

  “Well, you were,” he said, shrugging. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have had the bruises. You just don’t like to admit that you needed help.”

  She rolled her eyes but remained silent.

  “Why did he beat you?”

  “He was angry with me. It happened all the time when I was a child.”

  “Why was he angry?”

  She drained her glass. “None of your business.”

  “Was it because you were late to the engagement ball?”

  “That was Lord Poppy’s fault, not mine.”

  “But something was wrong, my mother spotted it. Was it because of what Horatio was saying?”

  He watched a red flush creeping up her neck. “No,” she said, but it was too late.

  He had more questions but she was too defensive for him to get anything more out of her. He needed to put her at ease, then try to find out more. “There’s a supper here that needs to be eaten. Why don’t you come over and sit down? Let’s get to know each other. We’re going to be together for a very long time. Let’s at least try to become friends.”

  “You just won’t give up, will you?” She still walked over, despite the sarcasm.

  “I asked your family’s cook what your favourite foods are,” he said, moving a chair out for her. She pulled out her own and sat down. He sighed and sat in the one he’d chosen for her.

  “That’s very thoughtful,” she said. “But miniature custard tarts?”

  “Oh, that’s one of mine.” He smiled.

  “Do you think that if you’re sweet enough to me, I’ll be easier to manage?”

  He offered her the pâté, and when she refused he spread some on a slice of toast. “I’m hoping that if you see that I’m actually not a horrifically awful chap, you might let me get to know you. And that, horror of horrors, you may also want to m
ake a go of this.”

  “You don’t want to get to know me. You want me to be pliable and bear your children.”

  “You won’t give up either, will you?” He laid the knife down, took a bite. Perfection. “I think you’re afraid you might like me.”

  “Oh please, stop, I might be sick.”

  “No, hear me out. If you actually started to like your husband, what would you have to push against? If you liked me you might actually start to like this life and you might have to accept all the parts you don’t like about it, instead of rejecting it all in one convenient bundle.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She stabbed a fork into a slice of ham and let it slap onto her plate.

  She was pouting like his younger sister Sophia as she shovelled a spoonful of potato salad onto the ham, trying to ignore him. “Oh, Catherine, I know this isn’t really you. Lucy told me.”

  “Told you what?” There was genuine fear in her eyes. Interesting.

  “That you’re a funny, bright and quite remarkable woman. That I should be patient with you.”

  “She said that?”

  He nodded. “She took me to one side whilst I was waiting for you to finish with Mother.” He regretted reminding her of that.

  “About the Charm, William, can you lift it?”

  “Why?”

  “You said yourself it’s harsh. I think it’s barbaric.”

  “It can’t be lifted. I’m sorry. And before you ask, I did check. I knew you would hate it. Only Lord Iris can undo the Charm in the wedding ring and, believe me, you do not want to make that case to him.”

  “Bastards, the lot of them,” she muttered.

  He chose to ignore that. He watched her push the food around her plate, locked inside her own furious thoughts. She took herself too seriously to be prodded into shifting her outlook. He munched on the toast as he considered his next move.

  “I had an unpleasant surprise this morning, before the wedding,” he said. “Father called me into his study and informed me that we’re to move to Londinium and I’m to take the Dukedom.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what I said.” He smiled. “The house is being prepared for us now. It will be ready by the end of the honeymoon. Do you mind missing the rest of the season in Aquae Sulis?”

  She looked delighted. “Not at all!”

  “It doesn’t mean we won’t have events to attend here, in fact, I anticipate we’ll be very busy indeed. With all the upheaval of losing the Rosas, I imagine the Londinium notables in Aquae Sulis will abandon the season to consolidate their interests here.”

  “Hang on a minute,” she said with a frown. “The Dukedom? They want you to be in charge of the Court?”

  He nodded. “I’m under a huge amount of pressure, Catherine. After what happened with the Master of Ceremonies, they’re expecting great things from me.”

  “Regret taking all the credit now?”

  He smirked. “Not at all. You didn’t seem to appreciate it.”

  “I didn’t think you needed anything else to inflate your ego.”

  “I didn’t neglect to mention your involvement with the Arbiter and the Sorcerer because I wanted all of the acclaim. I did it to save you the trouble of difficult questions and–”

  “There you go again, saving me when I don’t need it.”

  “Not just you, the Censor also. She was the one who sent you to help the Sorcerer, after all. I’m sure she wouldn’t have appreciated that being revealed to your family, or the rest of Aquae Sulis for that matter. It isn’t all about you, Catherine.”

  She tapped the potato salad with the back of her spoon and was quiet for a few moments. “Hang on. If you become Duke, then I would be Duchess. You don’t have to go for the throne, do you?”

  “Catherine, I’m not doing this because I feel like it. Lord Iris wants our family to take Londinium.”

  “Aren’t you sick of everyone telling you what to do?”

  He took another bite of toast and mulled the question over. “It seems to me that the higher up the ladder you climb, the fewer people can do that. Ultimately, we’ll never stop being… guided by our patrons, but look at the benefits we have in return. If I become Duke, we’ll have more freedom than ever. Wealth independent of the family for one thing, that’s significant. And control over property in a way that’s impossible in Aquae Sulis. They do things very differently here.”

  “But do you actually want to be Duke?”

  The question made him pause. He hadn’t even thought of it that way; all he’d considered was the difficulty of the task. “That’s irrelevant,” he said and her eyes widened.

  “Holy crap, they’ve totally brainwashed you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You haven’t even thought about it that way, have you? They say jump and you say, ‘How high?’” She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard that song.” She dumped the spoon and leaned forwards. “What I don’t understand is how you could travel all around the world, meet people – mundane people – and see the most amazing things, then just come back and forget about it all!”

  “I’ll never forget my Grand Tour, it was the best time I’ve ever had.” He didn’t want to admit how much he missed the Sicilian coast. He didn’t want to think about that woman, her laugh, and kissing away the tiny white circles of salt dried on her legs as the sun set.

  “But didn’t it make you realise how much you’re missing now?”

  He pulled his mind back to her and realised how strange a question it was. “That’s an odd way to see a Grand Tour. It isn’t a chance to see all the things denied us. It’s a chance to broaden our minds.”

  “Oh, yes, but for men only, because women don’t have minds to broaden.”

  “Ladies choose not to lose the first bloom of youth.”

  “We don’t choose anything. Trust me.”

  He sat back, aware that he was underprepared for her attitude. During their brief engagement she’d made it very clear she was unhappy about the match, but he hadn’t discovered the root of her dissatisfaction. She’d apologised for her bad manners, and then repeatedly destroyed every attempt to have a civil conversation. The only time they’d actually agreed on anything was when he had to distract the staff at the Rosas’ failed housewarming party so the Arbiter could enter the house unseen.

  Memories of Horatio Gallica-Rosa’s accusations returned with renewed clarity. He’d said she’d been living in Mundanus instead of being polished up at a finishing school abroad. The evidence supporting Horatio’s claims certainly outweighed any of lessons in deportment.

  “Didn’t your mother prepare you for this life in any way at all?” he finally asked.

  “All she did was demonstrate how–” She cut herself off and sucked in a deep breath. “They did all they could, in their own way. It just didn’t… I just… I’m just…” She closed her eyes, looking very pale all of a sudden. “You’ll want me to impress people if you try for the Dukedom. I can’t do that. I’m no good at that kind of thing.”

  He reached across to cover her hand with his. “I’ll do everything I can to help. We’ll bring in tutors, we’ll practice our dancing, I’ll coach you on how to deal with these soirées.”

  She looked at him. “It won’t do any good. Look, we need to figure out a way to make your family accept that this is a poor match and… I don’t know, nullify the marriage or something.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No, I’m serious, it’s the best solution for both of us. You can marry someone more suited to you and I can go and do what I want to do.”

  “And what exactly is that?”

  She stared at him and he could see she was weighing whether to tell him or not. “It’s not playing political games and pretending to be someone I’m not.”

  Evidently she needed to trust him more than she did. He pulled his hand away. “You need to stop thinking like that. You don’t believe I can help you because you’ve never been helped.�
�

  “I don’t want to be.”

  He gritted his teeth. How was he supposed to take the Londinium throne with a petulant child of a wife? The way Lucy had talked about her made him think she’d actually been referring to another Catherine. He had to make the marriage work. If it failed it would cause a rift between their families in Aquae Sulis and make his chances of taking the throne even more remote. The residents of Londinium would never respect a man who couldn’t keep his wife.

  “We just need to find a way to make life in the Nether more bearable for you,” he said, trying to sound as light as he could. “It doesn’t have to be as bad as it was with your family. In fact, I’ll make a promise to you now that it won’t be.”

  She just stared at the food.

  “And I’d like you to promise me that if there’s something about our life in the Nether that you find unbearable, you must tell me. Then we can improve it instead of letting it fester.”

  “What if it’s everything about life in the Nether?”

  “Well… then we’ll address each concern one at a time until you’re happy. We have time, after all. Which reminds me…”

  He plucked out the pocket watch. Two minutes to go. He stood up and gently pulled her to her feet. “I arranged a surprise for you.”

  He guided her to the balcony. There was a blast of cold air as he opened the French doors. The Thames was a black ribbon glimpsed between buildings, the night-time city ablaze with electric lights and the thrum of urban life. He took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders, then closed the doors behind them so it would be warm inside afterwards.

  “It’s an amazing view,” she said.

  “That’s not what I arranged,” he said, as the first rocket shot up into the sky and exploded into a ball of blue light.

  “Fireworks!” Enraptured, Catherine was quite transformed and he realised how tense and defensive she usually was. Her thrilled exuberance actually made her quite attractive. Then he was caught up in the display, having only seen a handful on his Grand Tour.