The refusal struck her like a hand against the chest. She stopped.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she saw desire move through the anger. The air changed. Warmth unfurled low in her body despite everything.
His nostrils flared, just slightly. Then he looked away.
“We made an error,” he said.
Emmeline’s breath stopped. “An error?”
“This.” His eyes returned to hers, but they were colder now. “Allowing matters between us to become… confused.”
She stared at him. The word was so small for what had grown between them.
“Do you mean our marriage?” she asked.
“I mean the intimacy. It has made expectations where there should have been clarity.”
For a moment, she could not feel the floor beneath her feet.
Her throat tightened around the word that wanted to escape. Love. She had not said it, but it was there now, bleeding quietly beneath every breath.
“And what clarity would you prefer?”
His voice dropped. “We should return to our original arrangement. Formality. Respect. Separate expectations.”
The word slid into her like a blade.
“For Aaron’s sake,” he added. “For appearances.”
“Appearances,” she said, her voice shook now, but she could not smooth it anymore. “I am trying to understand how quickly you can turn what we have shared into a matter of household management.”
His jaw worked. “I trusted you,” he said.
She paused, her stomach dropping with guilt. “I know.”
“No,” he said, and for the first time his voice roughened. “You do not.”
She stepped closer again, unable not to. “Then tell me. Tell me how to make it right.”
He said nothing.
Emmeline looked at him and felt the truth unfold. She had hurt him, and yes, she deserved his anger.
“I see,” she whispered, and something inside her gave way quietly. “You are right,” she said. “It is best if I simply focus on Aaron.”
Rowan’s expression did not move. Then he said, coldly, “That would be wise.”
It was such a small sentence and yet, it destroyed her.
Emmeline nodded once. “Very well.”
She turned before he could see what it had done to her. Her steps were steady because they had to be. She crossed toward the window, putting space between them, giving him her back because her face could no longer obey her.
“Goodnight, Your Grace,” she said.
Then she heard him move. Heard the door open. Heard him pause, perhaps with his hand upon the handle, perhaps looking back at her.
Only then did the tears fall.
