He looked exhausted. Dark smudges shadowed his eyes, and there was a haggard quality to his lean features that spoke of sleepless nights and burdens too heavy to bear. His usually immaculate appearance was disheveled, his clothing wrinkled from their journey, his thick hair mussed from the sea air.
They rode in silence. Henri found herself oddly reluctant to break it, perhaps sensing that words, once spoken, would change everything between them irrevocably. But as the French countryside rolled past outside their windows, as the reality of her situation settled more fully upon her, she knew she could no longer remain silent.
“You owe me an explanation,” she said quietly.
Lord Trenwith’s eyes remained closed, but she saw his jaw clench almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” he agreed. “I do.”
But he offered nothing more, and Henri’s patience finally snapped. “Then provide one! What possible justification could you have for treating me this way? For destroying my reputation, my position, my entire life?”
Eventually, he raised his lids to stare at her in the dim interior of the carriage. Henri was again struck by the notion that he had the look of a man who had not rested in some time.
“Miss Bigsby. I wish …” he began, then stopped, seeming to struggle with words that would not come. “I wish to assure you … I will do what is necessary.”
“What is necessary?” Henri demanded, sharp with frustration and growing alarm.
He did not respond immediately, considering her with an odd expression that she could not interpret. When he finally spoke, his words struck her like a thunderbolt.
“Wed, Miss Bigsby. Considering the ruin you face, I understand it is my duty to wed you.”
Henri’s breath caught in her throat. She had been thinking of her own safety since she had woken up this morning, while a million thoughts about why Lord Trenwith was acting in such a bizarre manner collided about in her mind like so much dust in a windstorm. She had tried to suppress her worries about her reputation since opening her eyes to find herself across the Channel, but now all the consequences came rushing in like a chilly winter wind when someone opened the door.
I am ruined!
Her work with Uncle Reggie was likely done for. And what about how this would affect the rest of her family? Her mother’s clients at Bigsby’s Stone Manufactory? It was all too much to consider, so she focused on the one issue she could control.
“Absolutely not!”
The words burst from her with more vehemence than she had intended, but Henri felt no inclination to moderate her tone. Marriage to Lord Trenwith? The very idea was preposterous. She barely knew the man, despite their acquaintance through Uncle Reggie. More importantly, she had spent years guarding her independence, building a life where she answered to no one but herself.
“Miss Bigsby, please consider?—”
“Consider what?” Henri interrupted, growling with indignation. “Consider wedding a man who kidnaps women? Consider binding myself legally to someone who clearly has no regard for consent or propriety? Consider destroying what remains of my autonomy to solve a problem you created?”
Lord Trenwith winced. “Your reputation?—”
“My reputation is already destroyed,” Henri said flatly. “Whether I marry you or not, the damage is done. At least if I refuse, I retain some measure of dignity.”
“There may be ways to mitigate the scandal,” he began, but Henri could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He knew as well as she did that there was no coming back from this.
“By becoming your wife? By surrendering my independence, my career, my very self to become Lady Trenwith?” Henri shook her head firmly. “I think not.”
Something flickered across Lord Trenwith’s features. Hurt, perhaps, or disappointment. But it was gone so quickly that Henri might have imagined it.
“You may change your mind when you have had time to consider your options,” he said quietly.
“I will not change my mind,” Henri replied with absolute certainty. “I have seen too many women lose themselves in marriage, become mere extensions of their husbands. I will not follow that path, regardless of the circumstances.”
Lord Trenwith fell silent then, turning to stare out the window at the passing French countryside. But Henri could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. Whatever response he had expected from his proposal, her flat refusal had clearly affected him more than he cared to show.
“Tell me why,” Henri said suddenly. “Tell me why you did this to me. What could possibly justify such actions?”
For a moment, she thought he might actually answer. Vulnerability flickered in his expression, a crack in the careful composure he maintained. She caught a glimpse of something raw and desperate beneath the surface, making her chest tighten with unexpected sympathy.
But then the mask slipped back into place, and Lord Trenwith’s face became unreadable once more.
“I am not permitted,” he said simply. “Not yet. But soon.”
“Cannot or will not?” Henri pressed, sensing that she had been close to breaking through his defenses.
