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Marie was everything Mother had always promised. Accomplished, charming, thoughtful, beautiful, sensitive. Indeed, with only a few days left of their bridal tour, he found himself unready to share her once more with reality.

And yet, Charles still hesitated committing his future to her. He had longed to marry someone with whom he could enjoy the outdoors. Someone to take riding, to roll down fields together, to boat into the middle of a lake with. As much as he enjoyed his time with Marie indoors or their simple walks to the village, he feared that one day he would grow restless. Then what? Would he remain indoors to keep Marie company forevermore? Or was there any chance at all for her to find joy in the activities in which he partook?

For years, he’d had an image in his mind that involved his future family sharing in adventures together. But no matter how he tried, he could not imagine Marie fitting into the ideal portrait he had painted.

As calming an effect as her presence had had on him, he knew deep down he could not change something so fundamental about himself as his desire to be out of doors—just as he knew Marie would not change who she was inside.

If their marriage remained intact, he would have to give up his adventuring altogether or do so alone, all while accepting the remorse that would inevitably follow should he ever leave Marie on her own, for he knew her loneliness would be his doing.

The singing stopped, and Charles waited, running his fingers through his hair with bated breath. When Marie began again, this time with a slower, more somber song, his brow drew together at the ache that arose in his chest.

He was never supposed to have fallen for her. And now, after complaining and criticizing and reneging on his promises for so long, he hardly knew what to do with himself.

Yes, you do, Charles.

He pushed the niggling thought away, but the harder he pressed, the more it pestered him again and again until finally, his fatigue overcame him.

He knew what he needed to do. But he simply did not have the fortitude to do it.

With defeated spirits, he allowed his arms to fall down at his sides. His feet ended their tapping, his mind stopped its racing, and his heart ceased its longing for something he could not have.

He was empty, void of effort and desire—for no matter which path forward he took, he would be left wanting.

All that was left to comfort him now was his darkened room and the hope that Marie’s singing would last until he fell fast asleep, for at least then he might receive respite.

Chapter Eighteen

The following morning, a fortnight after they had arrived at Woewood, Marie and Charles made their way to the village for their daily walk.

Marie peered up at him as she held his arm, the two of them walking down the lane in silence.

“Is everything all right?” she asked after a moment.

Charles didn’t seem himself that morning. Shadows clung to his under-eyes, and his stride felt more rigid.

He blinked, seeming to come out of a deep reverie. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

She raised a shoulder. “You seem...quiet.”

“My apologies. I suppose I am simply preoccupied with my thoughts.”

He offered nothing further, so she asked nothing further. A soft rumbling of thunder drew her attention behind them, and she glanced back to see dark clouds on the horizon.

“Oh, perhaps we ought to return to Woewood before that storm arrives,” she said.

Charles peered over his shoulder. “We can if you wish to, but I’m certain we will have plenty of time to make it to the village and back before it sets in.”

She nodded, following his lead forward. They walked together in silence, and Marie chewed on her lower lip as another thunder rumbled. She glanced back, though Charles remained clearly unbothered.

“You’re certain we will not be caught in it?” she asked.

He eyed her, his brow puckered with confusion. “Caught in—Oh, the storm? Well, I cannot be certain of it, but I am nearly certain of it. At any rate, we are both dressed warmly enough, and a few drops of rain never hurt anyone.”

He smiled reassuringly, then faced forward again.

Marie tried to be as unconcerned as he was, but the thought of being doused with rain hardly sounded appealing. All those wet underclothes and such. Falling into the fountain had been a terrible experience—though it had been made worth it by what happened beforehand. Perhaps getting caught in a storm with Charles wouldn’t be so very bad if they...

She pushed the thought from her mind, refocusing her energy on Charles, who’d fallen silent again. “Care to share of what you are thinking so deeply?”