Helena woke up the following morning with both a headache and a sordid feeling in her stomach that might have beensickness caused by too much wine the previous evening or might have been embarrassment and shame caused by how she had behaved in the carriage.
Likely, it is a little bit of both. The hangover weakened my defenses, so the consequences now feel tenfold because I very nearly made a mess of everything. Typical, really.
That she had managed to stop herself before pushing things too far was a relief, to be sure. But that did not solve the problems that beset her. If anything, it made them worse.
This marriage was not what she had expected. She was not as strong as she wished, and despite what she thought she knew about herself, the way her stomach turned and her heart fluttered in her chest just by thinking about her husband…
I am in even more trouble than I initially thought.
She was slow to get ready that morning. And just as slow arriving at breakfast. Not that this should have mattered, as every day since she had arrived at this manor, she had dined alone. And she saw no reason that would change.
At least she believed as much until she walked into the breakfast room, not paying attention because she was holding her stomach and massaging her throbbing temple. And thus, she was completely unprepared for what awaited her.
“Good morning.” Sebastian was seated at the table, seemingly waiting for her. “This is a rather late start, no?”
Helena came to a sudden stop, her face paling at seeing her husband smiling at her. He was sitting at the head of the table so that the morning light streaming through the window landed on him and made him glow.
He looked radiant… and deadly.
“Seb—Sebastian,” Helena stammered, staggering in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I wish to say that I am breaking my fast, but that is too obvious.”
She gave an awkward laugh. “I meant… I was not expecting you.”
“Yes, well…” He shrugged. “As you said last evening, things change, don’t they? And I am rather hungry after last night’s festivities. Is that a problem?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good.” He gestured to the seat beside him. “Care to join me?”
Was this just one day ago, Helena would not have hesitated. She would not have started sweating, fear and worry seeping from her very being as if the simple question her husband asked had implications far grander than what it seemed.
The truth was, Helena had enjoyed herself a little too much last night. She had started to see a new side, not just in her husband, but also in this marriage and what it might become if they both dropped the façade and tried to make it work.
But she did not want it to work. Shecouldnotallow it to work. And that was why she hesitated.
Why was Helena so against marriage? She repeated those reasons in her head, forcing them upon herself as a stark reminder of why she could not let this go any further—why she did not want it to!
She never wished to marry in the first place. Growing up, she was always fiercely independent and believed that marriage was the antithesis of this way of living. She had seen her sister wed, happy she claimed, but forced to live her life as her husband wanted it. No agency, no self-governance, belonging to someone else… a man, as it was.
Her mother, too. Yes, she was happy and would say as much if she were asked. But she was also just as subservient to her father, doing what he asked, agreeing with what he said, always following his lead because he was in charge and she was merely second best.
There was but one thing Helena wanted in this life, and that was the freedom to do as she pleased. Her writing was the embodiment of this, and to give in and accept married life felt like a betrayal of the worst kind.
Sebastian might very well be different. This marriage might very well be different. But that is all surface level, and if it goes any further, I have no doubt those freedoms I aspire to will be taken from me. I know they will.
“I…” She took a step back. “I am feeling a little under the weather.”
“You are?” Sebastian sat up, looking concerned.
“Nothing to worry about…” She laughed awkwardly and touched her head. “I think I might have gotten carried away with the wine last evening. Silly me.”
“Breakfast will help,” he advised.
“No!” she blurted a little too loudly. Then, she grimaced and lowered her voice. “I meant… a day of bed rest is what I need. That is all.”
“You are certain?” He half moved as if to stand.
