It had been around then that he had been packed off to Cumbria, to the home of a distant cousin of his father.
Perhaps that was the final confirmation that Arthur was the one worthy to succeed. It must have been galling for the old man when Arthur turned to drink.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Selina said gently.
Marcus blinked, the room slamming back into immediate focus. “Oh, I am sorry. I was quite literally miles away.”
“Thinking about your mother?” Selina asked, “I do not mean to pry. You have been the perfect host these past few days and I have loved being here. But our conversations have been somewhat…shallow?”
She winced while saying this, as if expecting a reaction. Marcus nodded sombrely. “Perhaps you’re right.”
He knew that she was right and knew the reason for it. How could he become too close to this woman, as much as he wanted to most desperately. The closer they became, the more likely it was that she would realize that he was not Arthur Roy.
“We do not even talk of…the old days,” Selina said. “I think I would enjoy reminiscing with you.”
Marcus felt the clenched fist of fear around his heart. That was the one thing he could not do. It would be disaster.
How would she be able to stay when she knows I have been lying to her on such a scale? It would be intolerable. In such circumstances, she would feel no safer here than at her father’s house.
Frantically, he cast around for an excuse, a way out. His eyes fell on the letter from Russell.
“Yes, well. As would I, and we’ll have plenty of time for it. As you can see from Russell’s letter, we will be getting married on Saturday. The modiste will be here this afternoon and will produce your dress overnight. I think that I should not be here. It is unlucky after all for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding.”
He picked up both letters, folded them, and put them into the inner pocket of his coat. As he did, he stood from the table, snatching up a napkin and wiping his mouth before dropping it to his breakfast plate.
“You will be in good hands with Beveridge and the rest of the staff. I have much to prepare, so I will head to town until the auspicious day.”
Selina stood, folding her hands in front of her and looking up at Marcus with a neutral expression. He could see through it to the hurt beneath.
This must feel like a rejection, and I am desperately sorry, but I cannot see a way around it. Damnation but this is more complicated than I thought!
Once again, he considered Luke’s advice to send Selina away to Windermere. Out of sight and out of mind. But he could not bring himself to do it. He wanted to be away from her, to avoid awkward questions. But at the same time, he wanted to be at her side, in her arms. He wanted her to be his wife in the truest sense. Except that was the thing that he could not expect from this marriage. It was a marriage of convenience and one in which he held the power.
He would not, could not, force himself on her.
If we become man and wife truly, then it must be because she has fallen in love with Marcus Roy, not the memory of Arthur.
“I am sorry for that. I shall miss you,” Selina said formally.
Marcus felt a sting at her reaction, but lifted her hand and kissed it anyway. “It cannot be avoided. But I will see you on Saturday morning at the Valebridge chapel for our wedding.”
CHAPTER14
Selina walked the meandering walls of Valebridge Castle, disconsolate. Arthur had left for London on horseback, taking no servants or luggage. She had watched him depart from an upstairs window, mounted on a chestnut stallion, no hat upon his head. He had looked magnificent atop the horse, in complete control of the powerful animal. In other circumstances, she would have relished the sight of him. Now though, it filled her with despair.
He is now realizing how trapped he is. Because of me. The resentment is beginning, and he is seeking to escape me. Maybe I should make it easy for him and leave while he is away. Spare him from having to go through with the wedding.
Then her mind went back to the conversation at breakfast time. His attitude appeared to change when she had broached the subject of reminiscences. She frowned as she watched him ride away, disappearing through a stone arch to reappear on the wandering lane that led through the grounds towards the road.
Why is he so reluctant to talk about our past? Is he now embarrassed by it? Or ashamed? How? There was nothing in our relationship but innocent love.
Then there was the scar. She had almost accepted it. Memory was frail and subject to eroding over time. Perhaps she wished Arthur to be so perfect in her recollection that she had unconsciously removed it.
Or maybe he is a different man entirely, merely pretending to be Arthur.
The thought made her laugh aloud.
“Begging your pardon, my lady. Hope I’m not disturbing you?”
