Page 46 of Fair as a Star

“I’m concerned about you. It’s Henry I’m upset with. I could throttle him for saying those things to you.”

“Yes, well…” She pushed a stray strand of hair back from her face, relieved to see that her fingers were no longer shaking. “He’s had to endure quite a bit on my account. The gossip and the—”

“He’s your betrothed. The man who loves you. It should be his privilege to endure such things on your behalf.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Indeed, I’m not. If I were your—” He stopped himself. The strong column of his throat convulsed on a swallow. “What I mean to say is that any gentleman worth the name would be honored to protect you. He wouldn’t blame you. And he certainly wouldn’t upset you to the point that—”

“Not about that.” Embarrassment coiled tight in her breast. “You’re wrong about Henry loving me.”

Mark stared at her.

Heat seeped into her cheeks. “He doesn’t. Not in the way you mean.” She twined her fingers into her shawl, feeling a sudden surge of self-consciousness. “He never has done.”

“But the two of you…” Mark faltered. “I thought—”

“I was merely close at hand. There are no other ladies near to his rank in the village. None that would suit him. And Henry’s never been the sort to venture farther. Not with Rivenhall Park to think of. He’s consumed by thoughts of his estate. Romance has always been a secondary concern.”

“You make it sound as though his proposing to you was a matter of convenience.”

“Perhaps it was, for him.”

“And yet I know for a fact that he admires you greatly.”

“Oh yes, he admires me. Or rather, he did, until Mr. Cooper told him about my episodes of melancholy.”

Mark searched her face. His blue eyes were dark with some unfathomable emotion. “Do you love him?”

She looked back out the window. Mama was down below, her apron firmly in place, snipping away the dead heads of her roses.

“Beryl?”

“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t love Henry.”

Mark stood abruptly from the window seat. He strode to the bed and back again in an agitated state, coming to halt in front of her. “Why on earth did you agree to marry him?”

“Many people marry who aren’t in love. It’s exceedingly common.”

“But you… You’re not common. You’re…” He raked a hand through his hair. “You deserve happiness. To be with someone who worships the ground you tread on.”

“I have no desire to be worshiped.”

“You know what I mean. Someone who’ll care for you. Value you. Who’ll respect your tender feelings, not crush them into dust.” His hand fell back to his side. “If Henry feels that your episode of melancholy last year was a failure as his future wife, how do you imagine he’ll feel when the next episode occurs? And the next?”

Beryl knew exactly how Henry would feel. “He’ll be disappointed in me, naturally. I tried to tell him so. But he didn’t credit my opinion on the matter. He believes there’s a cure for my melancholy. He says that…”

Mark’s brows snapped together. “What?”

She could barely bring herself to repeat it. Such things weren’t discussed. Certainly not in mixed company. “He says that my mood will settle once he gets me with child.”

A flush of color rose above the line of Mark’s cravat. “Did he, by God.”

“Mr. Cooper put the idea in his head. He told him that children help to distract a lady from her low spirits, and that, in many cases, they can effect a permanent cure.”

“There is no cure,” Mark said. “Not a legitimate one. There’s naught available but quackery and experimental treatments. As for children…” An odd expression passed over his face. “I suppose the reasoning is that you’d be too busy with them to give a thought to your troubles?”

“Something like that.”