How he would manage such a thing? Caspian did not know. And if he knew his wife even half as well as he thought he did, she wasn’t about to make it easy on him. Not one little bit.
“Congratulations to the two of you!”
“Oh yes, what a beautiful ceremony.”
“I cried my eyes out.”
“The two of you make a very handsome couple. Oh, how happy you are sure to be.”
Caspian was never one for feigning excitement or for letting his guard down to appease those who did. And he wasn’t about to start now.
He was sitting beside his now-wife, his hands folded on his lap under the table, his back stiff, his buttocks sore, and his mind starting to wander from boredom.I do hope we are able to wrap this up shortly.
The ceremony had finished hours ago and as was tradition, a post-ceremony feast was to be held right after. The location of the feast was Wexford Manor, hosted by Lady Thalia’s brother, an offer of peace as Caspian saw it; putting behind them how this had started, while looking to the future and what it might bring.
There were scores of people gathered in the hall. Most, Caspian knew, as he had invited them. Many, he assumed to be friends of his bride. And every single one wished to congratulate them both as if this was the happiest of occasions and should be celebrated as such.
For that reason, he and Lady Thalia sat at the main table, side by side, suffering through the well-wishers as best they could.But Caspian did not smile once, and neither did his wife for that matter.
“Don’t mind me…” Ironvale was the next to approach them. “But I thought I should pay my respects before I get lost in the masses.”
Caspian snorted. “Too drunk from the free liquor, you mean?”
“Something like that,” he grinned and looked to Lady Thalia. “And Your Grace, might I say, the ceremony was marvelous, and let us pray it is a sign of things to come.” His eyes glimmered with mock-humor and Caspian had to refrain from snapping at him.
“I think we both know that will not be the case,” Lady Thalia said simply. “I am, however, glad to see you.” She smiled pleasantly, the first time she had done so all day. “For I wish to apologize.”
“To me?” Ironvale asked.
“The last time that we spoke, I was rather rude. Please, forgive me.”
If Ironvale was surprised by the apology, that was nothing compared to Caspian. He frowned and looked at his wife as if he did not know her, certain that she was joking, or would double down with a piece of scathing commentary the moment the chance presented itself.
“No need to apologize,” Ironvale assured her. “I am often of the same mood when in the company of your husband.” He winked at Caspian, who was still staring blankly at his wife.
She saw him doing it and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Caspian’s eyes widened and he looked away, and then cursed himself for the reaction.
If there was one thing he was starting to understand about his wife, it was her ability to crack through the walls he had for so long managed to erect around his emotions. Caspian was not nearly as cold as people thought, nor was he as severe or dispassionate. What he was, was calculating, and he knew well enough how important it was to be seen a certain way by his peers.
It was like a second skin for him, and he wore it with comfort. Or he did do, until his wife entered the picture.
I need to do better. I need to control myself. No more reacting. No more letting her get to me. Stone-faced, removed, a damn statue is what I need to be around her.
The timing for this declaration could not have been better because once Ironvale walked away, the not-so-happy couple was approached by another cheery lord. Caspian frowned as he saw the man coming, taking note of the cocky smirk on his lips, the sparkle in his eyes, and the humor in his step.
“Here she is,” Lord Northwick crooned as he reached them. “The woman who broke my heart.”
Lady Thalia rolled her eyes. “I was not aware you had one to break.”
Northwick clutched his chest and staggered. “She does it again!”
“Forgive him,” she said to Caspian without looking. “ His Grace has a rather strange sense of humor.”
Caspian hardly heard her because, despite his best efforts, he was glaring daggers at Lord Northwick as if he meant to slit the man’s throat.
Northwick was a known rake, a gambler, and a drunken fool. He was not one who Caspian would ordinarily waste his time with, because men of his type were indeed a waste of time. And while the man was no threat to Caspian, that did not mean his words were not taken as such.
