Let them talk… let them gossip… let them judge me, for that is what they are doing. What does it matter? It is not as ifanything she says can change the foundations of this marriage. It is not as if Lucy would want such a thing anyway.
When his sister did finally appear in his office, he saw immediately that it would not be a pleasant conversation. She had a look on her face that he recognized, and he rightly braced himself as he pretended to be busy.
It was not going well.
“I am not hiding,” he said through a clenched jaw, his head bowed, his quill in hand and hovering above the parchment. “I am working.”
“I do not mean right now,” she said with a click of her tongue. “I mean generally. While your wife busies herself with James, while she mopes around the house, desperate for company, you avoid her as if she carries the seasonal flu.”
“My wife knows that if she wants anything, she can come and see me.”
“And why should she? Why should she have to beg?”
“It is not begging,” he said carefully, tempering his rage which boiled inside of him. “You speak of what you do not know.”
“I know women,” she argued. “I know a sad, lonely woman when I see one. And that is your wife.” She turned and pointed towardthe door. “Oh sure, she is a fine actor, and she has her lines well rehearsed. But they wear thin and I see through them like glass.”
Marcus groaned. “What did she say exactly?”
“It is what she didn’t say that matters.”
“You speak in riddles.”
“I speak in harsh truths.”
He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Then he put down the quill, sat himself up, folded his hands, and looked right at his sister. Her expression was typically defiant, all fire and brimstone, but he ignored it.
“We have discussed this already, you and I. As have Lucy and I, for that matter. This marriage is merely a business agreement, two parties coming to terms that are agreeable and benefitting us both. She did not want to marry, nor did I, but we had no choice –”
“And now you have a chance to make it so much more.”
“What we choose to make of it is none of your business,” he growled. “Lucy wanted her freedom, and I wanted a mother for James. We have both gotten what we desired and there is nothing else to be said.”
“Have you asked her this?” Honoria demanded. “Have you spoken since this so-called agreement was reached.”
“We have.”
“And?”
Marcus hesitated… which itself was a problem.
It was easy for Marcus to tell himself that things were going exactly as they needed to. For one whole week, he and Lucy had been man and wife, and for one whole week, everything had run smoothly and without any issues worth noting.
However, and this was why Marcus hesitated, he was not sure how sustainable such a mode of living truly was.
More than once, his mind went back to the day at the lake, when he and Lucy had been forced to pretend that they were in love. It was but a few hours spent together, and easily the best few hours of this marriage so far.
He found in those few hours that he rather liked his wife’s company. When they were speaking honestly, when they were speaking openly, and when they stopped pretending, they had enjoyed themselves beyond what he thought was possible. She was fun. She was funny. She brought out a side of him that had long since lain dormant.
There was clearly a connection between them… more than what was seen on the surface… a sense that if they tried, they might be able to turn this marriage into something real.
Real? What does that even mean? Marriage is not real, at least not how the story books say it is. Marriage is a contract, done for a purpose, and we have achieved that purpose. What else could there be?
“I appreciate your concern,” Marcus started carefully as his sister glared at him. “And I will take what you have said into account.”
“You should do more than –”
“But this is between me and my wife,” he spoke over her. “What we have right now works. To you, it might appear sterile and boring, but I assure you it is anything other than that.”
