Page 119 of Immortal Rose

Foxcourt shot to his feet, knocking his chair over. Flustered, he paused to right it before making his way to the door. The shadows there scattered as he pushed it open and disappeared into the hall. When the earl returned a moment later, it was with an inkwell, a piece of foolscap, and a quill.

Sweeping the broadsheet to the floor in a flutter of paper, he laid each item in front of me. When I couldn’t immediately compel my hand to reach for the quill, he dipped it into the ink for me, then slid it between my fingers.

And waited.

A droplet of ink dripped onto the parchment, bloating on the smooth surface like a tear.

“It won’t be legal,” I whispered.

“But it will be honored,” he said. “All that matters is that it’s the law between us.”

I breathed in deeply and set the quill’s point to the foolscap.

Marriage shall be annulled upon completion of the Immortal Rose perfume, I wrote. When Viola Lockwood requests the annulment, it will be sought without delay.

“Of course,” he murmured.

The acquiescence startled me. In all my inner torment, I’d forgotten he didn’t want this marriage any more than I did.

As with other peers of the realm, Foxcourt had been able to request a special wedding license from the archbishop to allow for a wedding to occur at any time or place, and without the traditional banns needing to be read in church. He would be able to solicit an annulment with equal ease, hopefully.

The marriage shall never be consummated, nor will I, the Earl of Foxcourt, exert my marital rights— I heard the small noise of offense he made as I added, by force or otherwise.

In all my other negotiations, I’d been able to read my opponent’s feelings, to tell when they were on the verge of giving in or walking away. I looked up, expecting him to say something typically sardonic, but he only nodded, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. His expression became guarded, as if bracing himself.

“What else?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the paper.

I will make no claims on the inheritance and property of Viola Lockwood, now or in the future, nor will I involve myself in matters of her potential business holdings.

“Unless invited to,” he added, with the makings of a smile as I reluctantly added it.

There would be no need to outline a trust for the House of Rosebourne to be placed into, not if I was to inherit it after the annulment. Besides, a trust would be controlled by a trustee, not myself, and Foxcourt would still have a right to interest earned on it.

During our marriage, I wrote, I will permit Viola to associate with whomever she pleases and go wherever she likes.

“So long as it does not endanger her,” he said, tapping the parchment. “That is nonnegotiable.”

It was fair, I supposed, though it annoyed me that he still had a rather dim view of my being able to take care of myself. I could concede that much to him, though.

I paused, dipping the quill back in the ink as I debated the final point. More than offending him again, it would bare something to him I could not take back.

“Go on,” he murmured.

I will never, I wrote slowly, under any circumstance, or for any reason, raise a hand or weapon against Viola Lockwood.

There. It was done.

Foxcourt was still beside me, as if caught between one realization and another. “Is that all?” he asked, his voice hushed.

I passed the quill to him wordlessly, my heart in my throat. That calm assurance I’d been able to grasp in the last few moments extinguished like a candle flame as he dipped the quill back into the ink—not to sign his name, but to add a term of his own.

Of course. I squeezed my eyes shut. It’s only fair.

“Is that agreeable to you?” he asked, his voice like cool silk.

I forced my eyes open and onto the foolscap once more.

In his ruthlessly spare penmanship, he had written, I will settle a sum of twenty thousand gold marks upon Viola Lockwood at the dissolution of the marriage.