"Her position?" Charles laughed bitterly. "You mean as your unwanted wife? The Coleridge contamination you were forced to accept?"
"I never said..."
"You don't have to say it, Your Grace. It's written in every cold look, every formal distance, every reminder that she's not good enough for your precious bloodline."
"Get out," Alexander repeated, his control visibly fraying. "Both of you. Pack your things and leave."
"Alexander, please," Ophelia tried once more, catching his arm. "They're my family. They made a mistake, but..."
"A mistake? They've been deliberately antagonistic since they arrived, and now they've destroyed irreplaceable pieces of history. If this is how your family behaves, then perhaps it's better if..."
"If what?" she challenged, something in his tone making her stomach clench with dread.
"If we maintain appropriate distance from them."
"Appropriate distance? You mean cutting me off from my family?"
"I mean protecting this house and marriage from their toxic influence."
"Toxic influence? They're my brothers!"
"And they're poisoning your mind against me, making you question everything about your new life and position."
"I don't need them to make me question it, Alexander. You do that perfectly well on your own with your coldness and suspicion and constant reminders that I'll never be good enough for you."
"I have never said you weren't good enough."
"You don't have to say it! It's in everything you do, every correction, every reminder about proper behaviour, every suspicious look when I show kindness to anyone!"
"I'm trying to help you adjust to your position..."
"You're trying to turn me into someone I'm not! Someone cold and distant and proper who never questions the great Duke of Montclaire or his precious traditions!"
"That's not..."
"We're leaving," Charles interrupted, his voice flat. "We'll pack our things and go. But Phee, if you need us, if he..." he shot Alexander a look of pure venom, "if he makes you miserable, you write to us immediately."
"She won't be writing to you," Alexander said, and everyone turned to stare at him.
"Excuse me?" Ophelia's voice was dangerously quiet.
"Until your brothers can learn to show proper respect for this house and our marriage, I think it's best if correspondence is limited."
"You're cutting me entirely off from my family?"
"I'm protecting our marriage from interference."
"Interference? They're my brothers, not some invading army!"
"Aren't they? They come here, insult me, destroy my property, and try to turn you against me."
"They don't need to turn me against you, Alexander. You're doing a magnificent job of that yourself."
The silence that followed was deafening. Charles and Edward looked between their sister and her husband with expressions of concern and anger. Alexander stood rigid, his face a mask of cold fury. And Ophelia felt something breaking inside her, something that might have been hope.
"We'll go," Edward said quietly, taking Charles's arm. "Phee, we'll be at the inn in the village tonight if you need us."
"She won't," Alexander said firmly.
