“I am ready,” she said, with one of her smiles that instantly made him want to give her anything in the world.
Why did she have such an effect on him? It blew his mind that he could be so enamored of her when they had only just gotten married.
This wasn't normal, was it? It couldn't be.
But as Jenkins opened the door and ushered Beatrice out to the waiting carriage, he couldn't help wondering if maybe it was like this for everyone. If these feelings were the reason why so many people loved being married.
His parents had had a good marriage. Not that he'd particularly cared to notice when he was a young man, but he had never seen them speak harshly to one another, much like Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins. It seemed as if he’d had two good examples of being married, but that didn't mean he wanted to fall in love with his wife.
On the contrary, the thought of opening up to Beatrice the way his parents had been in love with each other was terrifying. Surely he could have a more neutral marriage, one in which they respected each other and cared for each other, but not one where his wife would be willing to die for him.
That seemed a step too far, and yet, it was dangerously close to his reality.
He settled into the carriage next to Beatrice, their shoulders brushing. Perhaps he should have sat across from her, but sharing warmth was a good reason to sit next to her.
It wasn’t as if he was looking for reasons to be close to his wife…but maybe, just maybe, he was.
He could pretend that he wasn’t, but if he was being honest with himself, he knew that there was nothing he wanted more than to sit next to Beatrice and hold her hand.
But holding her hand seemed like reaching too far.
What if she tried to hold his, though?
The drive to town seemed to take far less time than it usually did. Not that he went to town often; he knew what the rumors were—that he was standoffish and didn’t like people—but he had never had much reason to go to town.
The nobility didn’t spend much time there except for the festivals, and a big bonfire didn’t hold any appeal for him for obvious reasons.
But going to town with his wife felt different. It felt like he was a part of something because she was a part of something there, and he was looking forward to meeting all the people who were important to her in her life.
Except her father.
“I thought we could start at your home and collect your things,” Alexander said.
Beatrice smiled up at him. “That sounds like a plan,” she said. “I would love to introduce you to my father. He should meet you.”
“Yes,” Alexander muttered. He would not love to meet her father, but he had no choice.
It would probably be good to meet him though, even if only to cement the fact that he didn’t like him and to put a face to the name he knew too much about. There was something to be said for knowing the person you didn’t like.
The corner of Alexander's mouth tilted up in a smirk. Perhaps it was wrong of him to be so prejudiced against his father-in-law before he’d even met him, but he had never been one to think the best of everyone. Gerald Montgomery had never had his good opinion and most likely never would.
But he would tolerate the man for Beatrice’s sake, if that’s what she wanted.
As they hit the northern edge of town, Alexander tried to think about the last time he had been into town himself. He didn't go often—in fact, he hadn't been in years. The idea of being around so many people did not seem appealing when he had no idea what their intentions were.
A lovely side effect of your parents being murdered.
No, he had no reason to be around others.
There was a lump in his throat as he watched the houses roll by. Maybe he shouldn't have come. Perhaps it would have been better for Beatrice if he hadn’t come.
He was starting to feel nauseated, and they hadn't even gotten out of the carriage yet.
What would happen if he threw up in front of everyone in town? The last thing he wanted, in addition to freaking out, was to be humiliated.
He could always stay in the carriage and let Beatrice go alone.
But no, that was cowardly.
