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Her clipped words pulled his attention toward her. “How so?”

“Any person can speak whatever they wish, whether they mean it or not.” Her eyes honed in. “Actions reveal far more.”

“Cannot actions be feigned, as well?” he countered.

“Not for long. In the end, a person always reveals who he or she is on the inside by their actions.”

Shadows danced across his rigid cheekbones as he studied her, and a fleeting thought occurred about how this was their first time alone together. She’d certainly pictured the moment differently.

“So how do you come to learn more about a person at a ball, then?” he asked, his expression revealing that he had no intention of believing her either way.

Clearly, he thought he was in control of the conversation.

Childish Charlie, indeed.

“Sooner or later,” she replied, “as the night wears on and propriety and politeness wane, the drink becomes stronger and the tired eyes become weaker, a person reveals his true character. How he treats others during those late hours is very telling.”

He tipped his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “And are you hoping to learn more tonight about me? Or for me to discover more about you?”

She gave an enigmatic smile. “I suppose we shall simply have to wait and see.”

His confident stance wavered only slightly at her pointed gaze, giving her further courage.

“Either way, I can assure you, Charles, tonight at the ball, you will discover that you have not married a lifeless woman after all.”

She let the words dangle heavily between them. A flicker of alarm within his dark eyes shone first, then it shifted to embarrassment before he looked abruptly away without a word.

Satisfaction filled every inch of her. He knew that she knew.

Not a moment later, Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd joined them in the drawing room, complimenting Marie’s appearance.

“Is your wife not utterly stunning, Charles?” Mrs. Shepherd said.

He peered down at his pocket watch, then tucked it away. “We had better be off. We oughtn’t be late.”

“Now who is anxious to go to the ball?” Mr. Shepherd teased.

“He no doubt cannot wait to dance with his wife,” Mrs. Shepherd said with a grin and a wink in Marie’s direction.

“Not at all,” Charles said gruffly. “I am simply ready to be done with this whole debacle. I do not relish the idea of lying tonight. Though, I suppose some of us do not have qualms over such deception.”

He looked in Marie’s direction, though he did not meet her eyes. He’d found his voice, then, had he? Well, Marie would make certain he’d lose it again before the night was over.

“It is enjoyable to playact at times,” she said with an innocent smile. “If I do well tonight, I think I might attempt to join a pantomime in London next.”

Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd laughed, but Charles left the room, his shoulders stiff and unmoving.

“He’ll warm up eventually,” Mrs. Shepherd reassured her with a whisper as they filed out of the drawing room.

Marie nodded, though she held her tongue. The Shepherds were either in denial or completely oblivious—if not a bit of both. After Charles’s temper tantrum that afternoon, they had to be fully aware of his feelings about the marriage. But she wasn’t going to be the one to crush their reality by telling them how much she despised him right back.

No, tonight, she would be the perfect daughter-in-law, the perfect wife, and the perfect example of being filled with so much life, she could not contain it.

And Childish Charlie was going to hate it.

Charles stood on the outskirts of the ballroom, attempting invisibility amidst the crowds. He’d done a fine job of it thus far, having only danced a handful of times and succeeding in remaining hidden for the rest.

Still, this whole affair was beginning to wear on him. How much longer was he expected to feign merriment?