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Marie turned away, walking from the room as he ended his laughter with a happy sigh.

Marie should have been sullen and offended, but instead, she found herself unable to wipe the smile from her own lips.

Arguing with Charles was becoming more and more enjoyable, and that alone was cause enough for concern.

Chapter Thirteen

The next afternoon, Charles walked away from the post office in Orpington, once again empty-handed as he crossed the cobbled streets and headed back in the direction of Woewood Cottage.

It was far too early to expect a correspondence from Mr. Page anyway, but Charles had managed to send off his letter to Tristan, despite Mother’s desire to keep his brother in the dark.

Tristan,

I’m sorry to begin this letter with terrible news, but our hunting trip must be postponed indefinitely, as I am presently occupied with my new wife. I’m certain you read that word again just to be sure, so let me settle your astonishment by confirming that I am, indeed, married.

If you have any questions, ask Mother. I’m certain she will be more than happy to fill you in on all the details, though she may or may not be honest with you. As such, you may already have a guess as to how this union came about, especially when you discover that my wife is the one and only Marie Oakley. You will remember her as the woman Mother has tried to force upon me for the last year.

All I shall say presently is that Mother was doing what Mother does best—meddling. At any rate, I have reason to suspect that circumstances between me and my new bride will change soon enough, so worry yourself not with the details.

I will explain all when we next see one another, though I have no notion as to when that will be. I do hope London is treating you well. Give Thomas, Andrew, Ambrose, and Leonard my best. Though might I suggest not telling them about my marriage quite yet? I should hate to worry the rest of you unattached gentlemen needlessly concerning the bet if this is all going to come to an end anyway. Unless an ended marriage still counts toward the wager.

That being said, I do hope you are spending plenty of time in finding a wife. If this farce does proceed, three of us will be out of the running. Do try not to waste your money needlessly. You may rest assured that if you are not actively searching for a bride, Mother may already be plotting.

Charles

Despite his parents’ wishes, Charles had never been one to keep secrets from Tristan, so he had no remorse whatsoever in informing his brother as to what had occurred.

Charles had, however, stopped himself from sending off the letter he’d written to Mother—in which he’d laid out his plans to annul his marriage with Marie. Delivering the news in a correspondence seemed rather cowardly, though, so he had tucked the letter away instead, deciding to speak with her in person just as soon as Mr. Page provided him a way forward.

If Mr. Page provided him a way forward.

Bracing himself for that familiar tightening of his chest that always came at the thought of remaining married, Charles furrowed his brow when, to his great surprise, that tightness did not appear.

Instead, the image of Marie watching him carry his trunk flickered in his mind’s eye, and the approval he’d seen caused his heart to trip.

The reaction was concerning, to say the least. Was he actually developing an attraction toward the woman? An attraction that stretched beyond physicality? He’d said himself he was beginning to find her enjoyable. Was that why he’d known a degree of disappointment when she’d refused to join him in the village?

This would certainly put a damper on his attempt to seek an annulment—falling for the woman he was determined to no longer be with. Or worse, falling for the woman who no longer wished to be with him.

His thoughts continued whizzing busily about his mind as he left the village behind and walked along the lane that led back to the cottage.

He tipped his hat to a few ladies headed in the opposite direction, their eyes lingering on him a moment longer than necessary before they whispered and giggled quietly to one another the moment he passed.

Typically, Charles enjoyed the boost of confidence such looks gave him, but this time, his mind remained on Marie. Would she have noticed the girls staring? Would she have become jealous as he had when she’d danced with half the men at the ball?

No, she would feel no such thing because she wanted out of this marriage.

Just as he did.

He was still upset about not being able to choose his own future. He simply needed the reminder.

Creating a mental list, he rehearsed his grievances against her, and yet, his mind continuously rebutted each item he’d once complained about.

Her shifting personality had been due to her fear of rejection. Her lifeless behavior had entirely vanished. And her staunch propriety had been thrown promptly out the window when she’d kissed him in the gardens at night.

The only one that stood firm, however, was her lack of adventurous spirit. She remained in her room yesterday after breakfast—just as he’d guessed—and he had yet to see her today. What did she do in there all day besides dwell in her own thoughts? Being with someone like that would cause Charles to lose his mind before long.

Then again, knowing Marie, she might encourage him to leave. She was fiercely independent, after all, having yet to even accept his hand upon entering a carriage.