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He sat up straighter, the clarity almost blinding. He hated himself for what he’d done to her. More clarity. He didn’t want her to feel as she did now. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted a fresh start.
Everything exploded inside him at once, so now, with renewed purpose, he did speed his horse up, dismounting as soon as he’d finished the lap. He lifted one arm into the air in a gesture of acknowledgement; the crowd roared their applause. He barely heard it. He took the steps two at a time, pushing past his security into the private enclosure, taking the next staircase until he reached the royal box.
It was empty.
‘Are you better?’
He stormed into her room without so much as knocking, but India had expected that. She turned to face him slowly, her face pale.
‘India?’ His voice was tortured. ‘Are you okay? Is it the babies?’
A sense of guilt formed in her gut. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he’d be genuinely concerned, nor that he’d think the note she’d left pleading ‘a headache’ might indicate anything more severe.
‘I’m fine,’ she said with a shake of her head.
‘“Fine” again?’ he demanded, crossing to her and pressing his palm to her forehead. She pulled away, but he put a hand on her hip, holding her close. ‘What is it? Do you need the doctor?’
She shook her head. ‘It was just a headache. From the heat, I think. I feel better now. I’ve had some water and rested a little.’
His eyes scanned her face with care. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
She swallowed, looking away from him. ‘You shouldn’t have come back early. I didn’t mean to spoil your fun.’
‘I wanted to check on you,’ he explained slowly, as if lost in thought.
‘It wasn’t necessary.’
He sighed with exasperation. ‘Actually, it is perfectly necessary. We need to talk.’
Her eyes swept shut on a wave of dread. ‘What about?’
‘This marriage.’
She felt as though she were approaching a precipice with no idea if she were to be thrown off it or not. ‘What about it?’
‘This won’t work.’
Her heart stammered almost to a stop.
‘I don’t want to see you like this. I don’t want to make you miserable. You don’t deserve this.’
Her eyes flared wide. ‘Are you...saying...you don’t want to get married?’
He stared at her, silent, shocked. ‘No,’ he said, firmly. ‘I don’t mean that.’
She frowned. ‘So, what?’
‘The fact that you’re pregnant means we must marry. There’s no other way. I can’t order the twins into the line of succession if they’re born out of marriage. We’ve discussed that.’
‘Then I don’t understand what you’re saying now.’
‘I want this marriage to work. More than that, I don’t want to fight with you. It has to stop. Neither of us can live like this.’
Her heart stammered, because he was right, but it was still so clear that he thought the worst of her. Even after all that she’d said to him, pleading with him to accept her version of events, he still didn’t. And he never would.
‘I want us to start over. I want us to focus on the good between us—the babies we are to raise—and nothing else. I want us to remember that there is chemistry here and that we can make whatever future we want for ourselves. But most of all, I don’t want to see you sad and miserable and to know that I am the cause of that.’
His words, on some level, were important—she needed to hear them. But at the same time, they were just a further reminder of how false all this was.
