“I didn’t ask for certainty,” he replied. “I asked for possibilities.”
Cressida exhaled through her nose, her frustration mounting. “Then I have none. If someone did this, it wasn’t aimed at me. I’ve been irrelevant for two years.”
That word seemed to catch his attention.Irrelevant.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Good,” he said.
Cressida frowned. “Good?”
“If you are irrelevant, then you are not the target.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time, but different in shape. Less accusation. More calculation.
Theodore leaned back slightly, his gaze sharpening as it turned inward.
“I will look into it,” he said.
Cressida studied him cautiously. “Why?”
His eyes returned to her. “Because target or not, someone made a move that affected you,” he said simply. “And I intend to find out why. Whoever thought they could interfere in matters that concern me will learn otherwise.”
His eyes searched her face with an intensity that made her skin tingle. His thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist. Whether consciously or not, she couldn’t tell. Then, his gaze dropped to her mouth.
The air between them turned electric. Cressida couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at him and wait for whatever came next.
Theodore leaned closer. So close she could feel his breath against her lips. Then he released her wrist and sat back abruptly, putting the full width of the carriage between them.
Cressida collapsed against her seat, her heart racing, her wrist burning where he’d held it. She pressed her hands against her flushed cheeks, trying to understand what had just happened—what hadalmosthappened.
The silence that followed felt different, heavier and weighted with things neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge.
He cleared his throat. “You must understand…” He paused. “That our marriage was only out of necessity.”
She nodded.
“I did it to salvage both our reputations,” he continued. “To prevent complete ruin. But that is where my obligation ends.”
“I see.” Her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater.
“We’ll live in the same castle, yes. You’ll have your rooms, I’ll have mine. You’ll fulfill the social duties required of a duchess. But our lives will be separate. That is a necessity.”
A necessity? When he’d kissed her like?—
“I seem to recall a distinctlackof separation the last time I was beneath your roof.”
“As do I. And it cannot happen again. Is that understood?”
Cressida’s hands clenched in her lap. “Perfectly.”
“Good.”
The word fell between them like a stone.
Minutes passed. The countryside rolled by outside the windows—green fields, distant cottages, the occasional flock of sheep. Cressida watched it all with unseeing eyes, her mind churning.
This was her punishment for a crime she didn’t commit. A marriage without partnership. A life sentence of proximity without connection.
