“You are going the wrong way,” he said softly.
Her breath caught. “Wrong way?”
“You reside in my bedchamber now.”
The words settled over her with shocking intimacy.
Charlotte swallowed hard as Victor led her farther down the corridor toward the grand double doors at the end. The heavy mahogany doors opened into his chambers, and Charlotte’s stomach twisted itself into knots as she stepped inside. Warm amber candlelight illuminated the luxurious sitting room. Through another door, dark curtains hung from the enormous carved bed. Everything about the chamber felt unmistakably masculine and entirely him.
Victor quietly closed the door behind them.
Charlotte turned slowly to face him, and reality struck her all at once with terrifying force.
This is truly my husband. Not a duke pretending to court me. Not a scandalous rogue tormenting for sport. My husband.
The thought left her dizzy.
Victor loosened his cravat slightly as though he suddenly found the room warm. “You look alarmed.”
“I am alarmed,” she admitted honestly.
His mouth twitched faintly. “That is fair.”
Charlotte clasped her hands tightly together. “May we talk a while first?”
“Of course.” His voice gentled unexpectedly. “Come sit down.”
Relief flickered through her as he crossed toward a small sitting area near the fireplace. He poured two glasses of port with steady hands before offering one to her. Charlotte accepted the glass carefully, though she suspected she required something much stronger.
Victor settled into the chair opposite her and stretched one long leg lazily before him. “Now then,” he said, “what are your thoughts, wife?”
Again, that word wife made warmth rise into her cheeks.
Charlotte took a small sip of port before gathering her courage. “I wished to speak about… our union.”
Victor nodded once. “Very well.”
She studied him carefully over the rim of her glass. He looked impossibly handsome tonight, with his dark hair slightly disordered from the long day and the candlelight catching sharply against the planes of his face. It seemed entirely unfair that one man ought to possess such dangerous charm.
“How do you feel about all this?” she finally asked.
Victor regarded her quietly for a moment. “You mean our marriage?”
“Yes.”
He leaned back slightly in his chair. “I think nothing truly needs to change.”
Charlotte blinked. “Nothing?”
“It is a perfect marriage of convenience,” he replied calmly. “You wished security for your family. I wished to protect your reputation and please my grandmother. We have both achieved what we wanted.”
Marriage of convenience.
The words struck her more sharply than they should have.
Charlotte forced herself to smile faintly despite the odd ache spreading through her chest. Of course.
What else had I expected? I had known from the beginning that Victor never intended to marry for affection.
