“You know well what I mean.”
“I am simply playing the role of your wife,” she shot back, still happy to play the innocent fawn. “Is it my fault that you have made such a role so rife with confusion and despair?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do not be cute with me. You know what we must do today. And I will remind you that the last time we did so, you were only too happy to play along.”
“Yes, well, I suppose I am not as good an actor as you are.”
“Try harder.”
She scoffed. “All I have done istry. You are the one who refuses to do so. You are the one who…” She could feel her temper rising, so she forced it down and offered a saccharine smile. “You know what, you are right. I need to do better.”
Alaric frowned. “You… you will?”
“I have tried, Alaric. I have done everything that I can and more. Clearly, it was not enough. And if this right here is the best I can hope for…” She looked about the garden party, sadness touching her tone as her body sagged in defeat. “Personally, I want nothing to do with it. So, if forcing a smile for one day more is what I must deal with, so be it.” She straightened and turned away. “But after this, we are done.”
Alaric did not respond to that, but she could feel his hesitation. The sense that, for a moment, he felt guilty for what he had said and how he had been acting. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied his hand reaching for her, as if he meant to rest it on her shoulder as a form of apology.
Typically, he stayed it, yanking it back and straightening as he linked his arm through her arm again. “Good,” he said. “See that you do.”
This isn’t how it was supposed to go. But as I said, I tried. The Lord knows that I did. I did everything I could, and still Alaric denies me. Perhaps it is time that I admit defeat and resign myself to what this marriage was always meant to be.
There would be no bullying, Alaric. There would be no flooding his heart with guilt. All Clara could expect, she was forced to admit, was exactly what he was giving her. Coldness. Isolation. A sense that he cared nothing for her.
No matter that her heart broke. Clara forced a warm smile, committed now to playing the role she had promised that she would. After today, she knew, this marriage would officially be over, her hope dashed with it, the truth of her new life finally taking over as it had meant to do when she first walked down the aisle.
She kept the warm, worthless smile on her lips as they walked to the garden party, arm in arm. They were approached by numerous guests, all of whom spoke as if they were old friends. Questions were asked about their marriage. Lies were told. Feigned laughter rang out. And the ruse took on strength.
All the while, too, Clara could not help but compare it to the Whitcombe Ball. How much fun she’d had that night. How real it had felt. It hadn’t been a lie. It hadn’t been performative. It had been a window into what this marriage might be if Alaric werenot so guarded.Alas, he is, and that is that. Why waste my time trying for something I know I will never have?
“Tell me, Your Grace,” Lady Brickstone asked with an air of judgment; her nose was pointed up, her lip was curled. It was toward the end of the day, things had run smoothly, and Clara could sense her husband beginning to grow frustrated with the effort to keep up the charade. “Will we be seeing you at more of these events?”
“Without a doubt,” Alaric told her.
“That surprises me,” Lady Brickstone mused.
“Oh, is that right?”
She looked between Alaric and Clara, a coy smile worn on her thin lips. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I never took you for the type. I am sure I can count on my fingers how many of these events I have seen you at.”
“Yes, well…” Alaric’s expression did not change, but from the uneasy shift of his weight, Clara knew the duke was growing agitated. “Clearly, I have changed. A happy marriage will have that effect.”
“And it is happy, isn’t it?” Her eyes flashed with wickedness, and it was only now that Clara could smell the wine on the lady’s breath. “As you two have done so well to prove.”
“It is not about proof,” Alaric countered, his tone turned toward warning. “It is the truth. Clara and I are in love, and it really is that simple.”
“That surprises me also,” she said, a slur to her words.
“Meaning?” Alaric was glaring at the woman now.
She tittered. “Forgive me again, but…” She looked at Clara. “If you had told me that this was your type, I would have called you a liar. No offense, dear…” She patted Clara on the arm. “You do seem lovely. But to tame the Beast of Ravencourt. What is your secret?”
Clara was not the duke’s biggest fan.At least today, I am not.But that did not mean she liked hearing such things spoken about her husband. Lies are what they were. And that Lady Brickstone had the gall to say such things to his face, laughing as she did so, angered her more than she thought was possible.
“I might ask your husband the same thing of you,” she said with a friendly smile.
The lady’s eyes turned wide, and Clara heard the duke chuckle in surprise.
“Excuse me?” Lady Brickstone gasped once she found her composure. “What did you say?”
