Page 131 of Duke of Sapphire

But she did not let it show.

“I am not going to marry you,” she said. “I was not going to marry you before, and that has not changed. I did not want this match when my father arranged it. I do not want it now. I would not want it if I were standing in the ruins of everything else that I had ever known.” She held his gaze. “I am sorry if that is painful to hear. But it is the truth, and I think you deserve the truth rather than excuses.”

Redmont opened his mouth.

The door burst open.

Georgiana stood in the frame, both hands gripping the wood, entirely without her usual composure.

“He is here,” she said. “Charlotte. Your Sappherton is here.”

Charlotte did not breathe.

And then Henry walked into the room.

He was travel-worn, his coat dusty from the road, his hair not quite as neat as it usually was. He looked exactly like a man who had driven to Surrey without stopping to think about whether he was in any state to arrive. His eyes swept the room once.

They found Redmont and his jaw hardened. Then he walked past Redmont entirely, as though the man were a piece of furniture he had already catalogued and dismissed and came straight to Charlotte.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

Charlotte realized her hands were shaking. She pressed them against her skirts.

“I let fear make my decisions,” Henry said. “I sat in that library and opened a conversation I had no idea how to finish, and when you went quiet, I said nothing. I did not ask what you wanted. I simply assumed.” He stopped. His jaw was tight. “I did the same thing your father did. I decided what was best for you without asking.”

Charlotte stared at him.

“I was wrong,” he said. “That is all I know how to say. I was wrong, and I have spent six days in a house that has managed to feel empty in every room simultaneously, which I did not previously believe was architecturally possible.” He reached into his breast pocket and held out a small, folded paper.

She opened the page and stared at it.

It was a drawing that she guessed must have been made by Ian. It featured the three of them under a tree.

Me Family.

Her throat closed.

“I did not see it clearly until this arrived,” Henry said. “But it has been real for rather a long time. You have been real for rather a long time.” He looked at her directly. “I love you, Charlotte. Losing you made it impossible to pretend otherwise.”

“How very affecting,” Redmont said from behind them. “But Charlotte, consider⁠—”

“She is considering,” Charlotte said, without turning around.

“He has just arrived on impulse after six days of silence. That is not love. That is wounded pride dressed up as⁠—”

“Lord Redmont.” She turned then because she wanted him to see her face clearly. “I am staying with my husband. That is my choice, freely made, with full knowledge of everything you have just said.” She folded Ian’s drawing carefully and held it in both hands. “Go home.”

Redmont looked at Henry. Then back at Charlotte. His expression shifted through several things before landing on the polished surface he always fell back on.

“Charlotte—”

“The Marquess,” Georgiana said from the doorway, where she had apparently been standing for some time, “has quite overstayed his welcome. I will have your horse brought round, Lord Redmont. I am certain you will find the return journey bracing.”

Redmont picked up his hat.

He bowed once, to the room at large, and walked out. The front door opened and closed, and the sound of hoofbeats on gravel faded down the lane.

The drawing room was incredibly quiet.