Her lips twitched. “Devastatingly worse.”
“Thank you for your honesty.”
“You’re welcome.”
They sat there with the fountain burbling behind them. Close but not touching, the air charged to the point of crackling.
“Margaret…” He stopped. Because what came next felt too big. Too fast.
“Henry.” Her voice was soft.
“I don’t know how to do this.” The confession escaped before he could stop it. “I don’t know the rules. Don’t know what I’m allowed to say or feel or—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Six weeks ago I was a tutor. I knew exactly who I was. Now I’m supposed to be a duke, and I have no idea what that means except apparently I’m not supposed to follow widows into orangeries.”
“You’re not.”
“And yet here I am.”
“Here we both are.” She took a breath. “I should tell you something about—about being a widow.”
Something in her tone made him go still. “All right.”
“Everyone assumes—” She stopped. Started again. “People think I’ve been married. That I know about—” Her cheeks flushed. “That I understand how marriage works.”
He waited unsure what she’d tell him.
“But I was married for three days.” Her words came faster now. “Three days. My husband left for the continent. I never saw him again. We didn’t—I mean, there wasn’t time to—” She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. “I’m explaining this terribly.”
Understanding crashed through him. “You’re saying you weren’t really married, not in the way people assume.”
“No. I never had the chance to have my full first season and not even…” Relief flickered across her face when she seemed to find the words. “We shared exactly three conversations. One at a ball. One in his father’s parlor when the marriage was arranged. One on our wedding day when he told me he was leaving at dawn after I moved to the house he owned. That was my entire marriage.”
“Margaret—”
“So everyone thinks I’m this worldly widow who understands men and—and kissing, passion, love… but I don’t. I’ve never even been properly kissed. Which is absurd, isn’t it? To be a widow who’s never been kissed?”
The words hung between them.
Henry’s heart was hammering. “That’s not absurd.”
I’d like nothing better than to kiss you.
“It feels absurd.”
“It’s tragic.” He hesitated. “That you were forced into marriage with a stranger. That you’ve spent years performing grief for something you never had. That you’ve been carrying that alone.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “People don’t understand.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I understand performing a role you didn’t choose.” He was close enough to admire again the gold flecks in her eyes. “I understand feeling like a fraud, like any moment someone will realize you don’t belong.”
“Yes.” The word came out breathless. “Exactly that.”
They were standing too close now. Definitely improper.
Neither moved away.
