Her eyes widened as his words sank in. Annulment. My God, if he had asked her three months ago, she would have agreed without hesitation. She would have been free and very, very wealthy to pursue her loves and interests. She was suddenly angry with him for not having suggested this sooner. True, the church frowned upon divorce, but an annulment was different. There were all sorts of excuses that could be used, and with Gaston’s connection to the crown, anything was possible.
But she thought of the babe growing within her, the child that had made her menses cease and even now cramped and fatigued her greatly. She was terrified of physicians, which made an abortion out of the question, and she certainly did not want to face life with a bastard child. Nay, as much as it pained her, she would have to refuse his offer solely on the basis of her honor. She did not want gossips spreading rumors of her infidelity, bearing a child out of wedlock.
She lowered her gaze. “As generous as you are being, my lord, I must refuse. I would remain married to you.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice louder. “I do not want to be married to you.”
She swallowed hard, a pained look on her face. “And I do not blame you for all of the grief I have caused you, but…
“Grief?” he shot out of his chair, clenching his big fists as he swung away from her. “My God, Mari-Elle, you have caused me more than grief. You have given yourself to every pretty peacock that catches your eye, and I ignored you because I cared not for you in the least. As long as you were discreet, I looked the other way. I cannot count the men you have whored with; shaming and disrespecting our marriage you are suddenly so intent on maintaining. I cared not for your liaisons until you bedded with Richard and threw it in my face with every chance that arose,” he turned to her, his jaw flexing. “I could live with your gigolos, and I could live with your lavish spending. But you humiliated me to the core when you slept with our king.”
Her eyes were wide, uncertain. “Is that why you betrayed him at Bosworth and fought for Henry Tudor?”
“Among other reasons,” he mumbled, running his fingers through his thick hair to slick it back. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to get worked up over Mari-Elle’s indiscretions with Richard. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. “I want to end this marriage, Mari-Elle. I know we would both be a far sight happier.”
She looked at her hands, mulling over her thoughts. “I cannot,” she whispered after a moment. “For Trenton’s sake, I cannot. I want to be your wife, your lover, and your friend. I promise I shall work hard, Gaston, I won’t fail.”
“There is nothing to fail at; it is already dissolved. I do not want you, Mari-Elle. I have had enough of you in my life and I simply wish to be rid of you. I believe my offer is most generous.”
“It is, my lord, but I am not interested,” she said, raising her face to him. “I shall not agree to the annulment.”
He gazed down at her. “Do not force me, Mari-Elle. The consequences will be severe.”
Her head came up sharply. “Is that a threat? You would murder me to obtain your freedom?”
“I did not mention murder,” he said evenly. “I simply suggested that you not force my hand. I am more powerful than you could possibly comprehend.”
She was shaken and unbalanced. She remembered her vow when she had first come to Mt. Holyoak; she must be smarter than her husband.Think, think!
“Then you force me to make another confession, Gaston, although I was fully intent on sparing you,” she said softly, trying to appear sorrowful. “I do not want your pity, but I can see that I must be truthful.”
He was fully annoyed; another lie. “What?”
She sat back in the chair, her gaze on the hearth. “I…I am dying, Gaston. I have an ailment that strikes down so many women, a most private ailment. I do not know how much longer I have to live; neither does my physician. I am simply trying to make good of my life with the time I have left, with you and with Trenton. You would not deny me a last request, would you?”
He cocked his head. “Really, Mari-Elle. Do not think to play on my sympathies, for I have none. Dying, lying and all, I want you out of my keep within two days. And I will have my annulment.”
Her first reaction was to screech at him but she held her temper; she thought her dying excuse to be quite clever, however, quickly thought of. And she intended to use it to her full advantage.
“I beg you, my lord, show some compassion. Would you traumatize Trenton further by a divorce and then my death?” her voice was shaking. “He would be devastated.”
Again she brought Trenton into the conversation and he was angry. “Leave him out of this. This is not about him; it is about our sham of a marriage. You will grant me an annulment, or anything else I ask for, or I shall get it anyway and leave you destitute. The choice is yours.”
Clever tears sprang to her eyes and she put her hand to her mouth to seal off her sobs. “Please do not be so cruel!”
“I am not.”
“You are,” she let out a sob. “You are as black as your namesake, Gaston. How can you show so little pity for your dying wife?”
He rolled his eyes in exasperation and turned away from her. He was tired of her, of arguing. He wasn’t used to being denied his wants or desires.
Mari-Elle rose, extending a hand to him beseechingly. “You said yourself that you will ever be grateful to me for bearing Trenton. If you truly mean that, my lord, then show me the consideration due the mother of your son.”
He glared at her. “What consideration?”
She sniffled delicately. “Allow me to stay until my strength returns, allow me to try and redeem myself in your eyes.”
He shook his head. “I do not want you here.”
