“I married something beautiful only this morning,” Victor replied smoothly. “Surely that proves my appreciation for such things.”
Color immediately rose into her cheeks.
Morgan made a choking sound behind them while Lionel suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
Victor felt ridiculously pleased by Charlotte’s blush.
“You are impossible,” she murmured softly.
“And yet… You married me.”
Her lips twitched at that. “I begin to suspect temporary madness.”
Victor stepped slightly closer to her, lowering his voice enough that only she could hear. “If this is madness, wife, I find I do not particularly mind it.”
The word wife affected her visibly. Her breath caught faintly, and for one dangerous moment Victor nearly forgot they stood in a crowded room filled with guests. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to drag her away from everyone else and finally claim her.
Tonight she will truly be mine.
The thought sent heat curling low through his body.
Charlotte seemed to sense the shift in his thoughts because her eyes widened slightly before she cleared her throat and stepped back. “Elizabeth wishes for more tea,” she said quickly.
Victor smirked. “A tragic loss.”
She shot him a warning glance, though amusement still danced beneath it. “Behave yourself, Your Grace.”
“Never.”
Charlotte shook her head helplessly before walking away again, leaving the faint scent of roses trailing behind her. Victor watched her return to Elizabeth’s side and felt that strange warmth spread through his chest once more.
Everything will be fine.
He could desire Charlotte without loving her and therefore losing her.
He could protect her reputation, honor their marriage, and still keep the dangerous parts of himself untouched. There would be no children. No vulnerable attachments. No unbearable grief waiting at the end of happiness.
Even as Charlotte looked back at him and smiled across the crowded room, Victor clung desperately to the lie that…
I will keep it all controlled.
CHAPTER 21
Charlotte’s heart hammered as Victor escorted her through the quiet upper corridor of Mulford Manor. The house, once so alive with music and laughter from the wedding breakfast, had finally fallen silent now that the last of the guests had departed. Candlelight flickered against the polished walls while her slippers brushed softly across the thick runner beneath her feet. She felt suddenly breathless beneath the weight of what this night truly meant.
Victor’s hand rested lightly against the small of her back as he guided her upstairs. “You are quiet, Duchess,” he murmured.
The title sent a strange flutter through her stomach. “I am attempting not to faint.”
A low chuckle escaped him. “That would prove inconvenient on our wedding night.”
Charlotte shot him a nervous glance. “You appear remarkably calm for a man who married only hours ago.”
“I assure you, I am not calm at all.”
The heat in his voice made her pulse stumble.
They reached the corridor leading toward her former chamber, and Charlotte instinctively turned in that direction. Victor immediately caught her wrist gently but firmly. She stopped at once and looked back at him in confusion.
