“She wasn’t crying.”
“No. She’s too controlled for that. But she wanted to.” Henry drained his brandy. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
Alexander wanted to respond, wanted to defend himself, but what defense was there? He’d proposed to their sister like she was a business merger. He’d made it clear he found the entire situation distasteful. He’d been, in every way, exactly what they expected him to be.
“I should go,” he said stiffly.
“Yes,” Robert agreed. “You should.”
“My solicitor will contact you about the settlements.”
“Fine.”
“A fortnight, then.”
“A fortnight.”
Alexander bowed precisely to Mrs. Coleridge, nodded to the brothers, and left. As he passed through the hall, he caught a glimpse through a doorway; Ophelia, standing in what looked like a small study, staring at the ring on her finger as if it were a shackle.
She must have sensed his presence because she looked up. Their eyes met across the distance, and for a moment, he saw everything—the disappointment, the resignation, the brave attempt to make the best of an impossible situation.
He should have said something. Apologized, perhaps. Or at least acknowledged what this was costing her. Instead, he nodded and kept walking.
Chapter Seven
The carriage ride home was silent. Alexander stared out the window, seeing nothing, thinking about brown eyes and trembling fingers and the way she’d said ‘necessary’ like it was a curse word.
Frederick was waiting in his study when he arrived, already halfway through Alexander’s best brandy.
“Well?” his cousin asked. “How terrible was it?”
“She accepted.”
“Obviously. I meant the proposal itself.”
Alexander poured himself a drink, drained it, poured another. “It was… adequate.”
“Adequate. You proposed to your future wife and it was adequate.”
“What did you expect? Poetry? Declarations of love?”
“I expected you to at least try not to behave like a fool.”
“I tried.”
“Did you?”
Alexander was quiet for a long moment, remembering her face, her quiet voice saying ‘necessary’ like it explained everything and nothing.
“No,” he admitted finally. “I didn’t try. I did exactly what they expected. What she expected. I was cold and formal and treated the whole thing like a business transaction.”
“And?”
“And she accepted anyway. Because she had no choice.”
“Alex...”
“She asked me when I wanted the wedding. Like she was asking when I wanted my boots polished. Two weeks, we agreed. Two weeks until I bind myself forever to a woman I barely know and don’t want.”
