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He didn’t answer.
She pulled on his arm, stopping him with surprising strength. “What did you expect from me? Unending compliance? A life committed to your every request?”
He pulled his arm away from her and walked several paces ahead, now aware of his location. “Yes, indeed I did. And even with such expectations I was wary of the marriage.”
She gasped. “Would it surprise you to know that I didn’t wish to marry?”
“Not at all. You do seem the sort of woman to aspire to spinsterhood.”
Her footfalls grew louder as she stomped toward him. “You are quite unlike my expectations as well,” she huffed. “I suspect this entire situation will be.”
He stopped walking and turned toward her, sudden anger burning through him. “May I venture a guess at what you expected? You expected a pitiful, helpless man, alone and unhappy. You stood to gain wealth and a home from this marriage, but hoped that somehow you might turn his life around too—that you might make him happy.” He turned and walked forward again. “That is where you were wrong, Miss Clarke.”
She was quiet for a brief moment before Percy heard her stomping past him and up the front steps.
“It isMrs. Wellingtonto you,” she snapped.
He would not call her Mrs. Wellington, that much he was certain of. He would rather pretend they were not married at all. If he could no longer call her Miss Clarke, then he would use her Christian name.
Fanny continued, “Whether you like it or not, you did marry me this morning, and you cannot travel back in time. Please believe me when I say that I am not going to exhaust myself trying to make you happy if you have no desire to be.”
He ascended the front steps carefully and arrived beside her at the doors. “Good. It seems we have reached an accord.” He pushed them open and stepped inside. The familiarity of his surroundings served to relax him—lofty ceilings, antique furniture, and waxed floors. He could picture them in his mind and he knew what they meant: emptiness and solitude.
“Oh, my!”
Percy mumbled a few choice words under his breath.
“How beautiful! Is this truly it? This is your home? I have never seen a place so grand.”
He heard the rustling of skirts swishing along the marble floors as Fanny explored the entry hall. “The chandelier! Oh, what lovely paintings.” Her feet clicked around the corner and into the drawing room. He followed at a distant pace.
“But do you not find it rather dark? Oh, never mind. Do you care if I draw the curtains?”
Percy’s brow had begun to hurt from the constant scowl. “Allow me to show you to your room.”
She stopped. “Pardon me?”
“I wish to direct you to your room.”
She fell silent. “Have you already grown so tired of my company?”
Percy did not hesitate. “Yes.”
She let out a scoff of disbelief. “I suppose Ishallgo to my chamber, and I shall stay there for the remainder of the day. It will be much preferable to your delightful company.” Her voice dripped with mockery. “I will only grant my assistance with any of your daily tasks if you ask me in a kind, respectful manner.”
He scowled, gritting his teeth to keep from cursing. He inhaled deeply through his nose to calm himself.Lilacs.
He breathed again. Yes, she smelled of lilacs.
Percy shook his head and stepped away. “I’m afraid I would rather avoid you and your disagreeable attitude entirely.”
The sharp poke of her finger jabbed his chest.. “Likewise.” With one last huffed and resolute breath, she stepped back. “Come then, show me to my rooms.”
Percy was nearly too shocked to move. His chest radiated with sensation where her finger had just jabbed him. Shy? Reserved? Agreeable? Percy had begun to wonder if Fanny’s grandmother had been delirious. Or if Harry had been. “Third floor, second door on the left of the hall,” he seethed. “Your room has been prepared for you.”
With the sound of her retreating footfalls, he turned away from the staircase and ran his hand over his hair, letting out a slow breath. His skin tingled with frustration. If only this day had gone according to plan, he would be sitting in his chair in the drawing room or the library, enjoying the meal she had brought him on a tray, engulfed with the solitude he had come to appreciate. He walked to the wall and ran his hand along it, feeling his way to the library. He knew the frame of the door. It was textured wood in his family’s crest.
It had only been hours since he had married this woman and already he was tempted to throw her from his library window. Mumbling under his breath, he entered the room, sat down in his chair, and contemplated the possibility of an annulment.
