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CHAPTEREIGHT
As Fergus left Edwina in the parlor with Mrs. Wright, he breathed a sigh of relief as though he had held his breath the entire morning. He could not stand how beautiful she was, how her golden hair glowed in the morning light. He felt her eyes searching his, seeking that which he could not give her.
He retreated from her as he would have run from one of his enemies in France, as though she would wound him if she could get close enough. He headed directly to his library, his sanctuary, looking for solace. However, Simon quickly found him.
“How are you, Your Grace?” he asked. “Happy to be married, finally?”
“What have I done, Simon?” he breathed, turning to face his friend. “She is terrified.”
“Well, what is done is done,” Simon told him. “You are married now, and you cannot take it back.”
“What should I do?” he asked desperately. “My entire plan rested on producing an heir, but seeing her now, I cannot… She is…”
“She is what?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow. “Beautiful, young, innocent? A real woman?” Fergus did not reply, even though he agreed with Simon. He could not admit that he did not feel worthy of her.
“Normally, the courting is done before the marriage, but it is not uncommon to court your wife after the vows are made. In fact, one might say that is when the real work begins.”
“What do you know of marriage?” Fergus challenged.
“More than you.”
Fergus squinted at Simon then turned and ran his hand through his hair, fingers tracing across some of the scars that ran across his scalp.
“I cannot go to her now,” Fergus said softly.
“There is time,” Simon assured him. “Just be patient. But you cannot just expect her to just come to you. You must go to her.”
“I told her that this would be no more than a business arrangement,” Fergus explained. “And that is what I want.”
“Is it, really?” Simon asked, coming closer to him. Fergus turned away, trying to avoid his gaze.
“You must try to show some sort of feelings for her. Dote on her. Stop being so cold and unfeeling toward her.”
“I barely know her!”
“Then get to know her!” Simon cried, laughing. “I do not remember you being so dense when you were courting –”
“Do not say her name,” Fergus warned, a cold chill rushing through his body. He had not thought of her in years and anger flooded him at Simon for bringing her up.
“What I meant was that you were quite adept at courting in the past. You were a favorite bachelor among thetonbefore the war. Try to remember what you did then. Flowers, perhaps, walks in the garden, reading to her.”
“Hmm,” Fergus murmured, turning toward the window. He knew that Simon gave him sound advice, but he could not admit that he had no idea how he might implement said advice.
“You could start by actually spending time in her presence,” Simon offered. “You have left her alone conducting business on the morning of your wedding. How will you look back on this day in twenty years’ time? Let her remember how you avoided her and ignored her, treated her unkindly?”
“You think me such a brute.”
“Well, you are being rude to a guest in your house.”
“But she is not a guest.”
“Is she not?” Simon argued. “She may be your wife, but this is only her second visit to this household. She does not know the lay, does not even know where her suite is.”
“I offered, and she rejected my offer!”
“She is scared! And you’re being defensive. You asked for my advice, whether rhetorically or not, so I am giving it.” Thusly rebuked, Fergus sighed and pondered for a moment how to take Simon’s advice. Being in Edwina’s presence at the moment terrified him.
“Join me on a tour of the house with her,” Fergus suggested out loud then he stepped toward Simon, adding, “At least, maybe, she would not be so afraid if you were there.”
