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Work together as husband and wife to no longer be husband and wife? She’d never heard of anything so preposterous. Still, she agreed, if only to prevent him from assuming she wished to be married to him still.
That would be more humiliating than anything.
“So, we are in agreement?” he asked.
The carriage jostled above a dip in the road, and just as she’d expected, his fingers brushed against her knee. The touch was so faint, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d felt it, as he remained leaning forward.
“Yes,” she breathed. “We are in agreement.”
“Very well. Then we shall continue forward unless the path affects either of us negatively. Or, of course, in the circumstance that you change your mind and wish to remain married to me after all—in which case, I will perform my duty and remain your husband. Agreed?”
Marie stiffened, the flood of warmth emptying her person in great waves. She’d been swept up with his promises of security until that last caveat.
“Unless I change my mind and wish to remain married to you,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
She raised her chin. “And unless you change your mind and wish to remain married to me.”
A smirk of disbelief lifted the corners of his lips, and he finally straightened, leaning back against the seat in a relaxed manner. “Of course.”
Her pride flared, sizzling from her person like steam from a teapot. “Is that so very farfetched?”
“Not at all.”
His smooth voice and level-headed responses were really beginning to irk her.
“Well, worry not”—she added Childish Charlie to her own thoughts—“I will not change my mind.”
Nor would she ever. A marriage with Charles Shepherd sounded worse than purgatory.
She straightened in her seat and pulled her gaze to the window. “Do keep me updated the moment you receive word from Mr. Page. I am quite interested in his solutions.”
“As am I,” Charles said, apparently not catching on to her clear desire to be finished speaking with him—forever if luck would have it. “But we must prepare ourselves if our only solution is to remain wedded.”
She pulled on a face as if she’d just smelled rotting cabbage. “As I said, do keep me updated.”
She shifted her body away from him, and this time, Charles accepted the hint.
They fell silent, and Marie was left to her own thoughts.
She had very little hope that whatever Mr. Page found out about annulments, her reputation would be left unscathed. She also doubted that the knowledge would prevent Charles from seeking an annulment anyway. If he could not keep a vow made before God, why would he keep a mere promise to Marie?
Whatever happened, she knew one thing. She would die before allowing Charles to discover that she would rather remain in their marriage than leave it.
Chapter Twelve
Hours later, the carriage pulled to a stop before the smallest cottage Charles had ever laid eyes on.
“Woewood Cottage?” Marie asked, her eyes moving across the two-storied house. “This is where we are staying?”
“Are you surprised? Of course this is where they wish us to spend the next fortnight together.” He lowered his breath, mumbling to himself. “We hardly have the space to breathe our own air here.”
With off-white bricks and a roof in shambles, the edifice had clearly seen better days, though the small, white door and red-bordered windows lent a certain charm to the overall feel. Pink and red rose bushes with their early blooms shone brightly in front of the two lower windows, and strands of ivy crawled to the three windows on the second floor.
There could not be much of a dining area with such limited space, nor could there be above three or four rooms—which Charles knew was precisely the point. Instead of sending them on an actual bridal tour visiting relatives and viewing beautiful locations throughout England, their parents had chosen to send him and Marie to the smallest home in the country—no doubt another attempt to solidify their union.
Mother and Father were never subtle. It was a wonder Charles and Tristan had turned out so well.
