Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The entryway filled swiftly with guests as Charles and his parents welcomed the attendees of the ball. Though he spoke with each individual who passed him by, his attention was fixed to the top of the stairs.
Marie had yet to make her appearance, and her tardiness was beginning to worry Charles. Had something happened to prevent her from joining them earlier? Was she in need of his service of some sort?
Just before he could convince himself to check on her, she appeared at the top of the stairs, and the breath was snatched from Charles’s lungs.
Marie’s pink skirts fluttered about her legs as she walked down each step, the color of the gown matching the shade of her cheeks. Her dark hair was sprinkled with pearls, and her graceful, gloved hand trailed down the banister with gentility.
She was stunning. But then, Marie was always stunning.
“Are you ever going to tell me how your time at the cottage went?” Mother asked beside him, staring up at Marie, as well.
“After tonight, I won’t have to,” he said enigmatically.
Mother’s eyes shone with delight. “Oh, Charles. I cannot express how delighted I am to hear that. Especially after...after I...” She trailed off. “I am so sorry for how all of this came about.”
Charles smiled, despite himself. Her apology was welcome and accepted, but he realized he didn’t need it any longer. “You aren’t sorry, Mother.”
She pulled back.
“How can you be,” he began, “when it ended precisely how you wished it to?”
She fought off a smile for as long as possible before patting his cheek with affection.
More guests arrived, but Charles slipped away from the welcoming line, making directly for Marie.
Her eyes had yet to meet his as she reached the bottom step, but when he stood before her, their gazes finally met.
Instantly, he frowned.
“Are you well?” he asked, noting the red in her eyes that hinted at past tears.
“Yes,” she said, pulling on a static smile. “You are looking very fine this evening, Mr. Shepherd.”
Charles wasn’t buying the act for a moment. “What is it?”
She glanced around them, as if keenly aware of the eyes upon them. “Nothing. I am merely tired from all of our traveling today.” She nodded at a passerby. “I understand Mr. Page arrived just before the ball.”
Charles hesitated. He had no intention of declaring his love for the woman right there in the center of Grendale’s entryway, nor did he wish to be rejected in the same location.
But Marie had the right to know the truth about their annulment as much as she had the right to know of his feelings for her.
“He did,” he finally replied.
She looked away. “Excellent. I should like to hear what he had to say so we may move forward with the annulment.”
His heart pinched. Before he could say anything in response, she was off, standing at Mother’s side and greeting one of their neighbors.
Charles stared after her, eying her graceful movements and that smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He couldn’t believe she truly wished for the annulment. He wouldn’t believe it.
The guests arrived in full-force, then, and Charles did his duty by greeting each one, introducing those who had not yet met Marie. This time, he accepted words of congratulations with sincerity, though Marie’s distanced behavior continued.
When all were in attendance and the first song announced, he made to ask her to dance, but she was already occupied for the first set.
Desperate to not recreate their first ball together, Charles pulled his mother to dance in the same set as Marie so when the song ended, he had a direct line to his wife.
With a smile and an offered hand, he reached her. “May I have the next dance?”
She hesitated. “Is that wise?”
He supposed it was customary for married couples to ensure single individuals had partners, but when had he ever been one to do as Society suggested?
“I believe we will be forgiven just this once,” he said.
Marie averted her gaze, though she took his offered hand all the same as he led them toward the floor.
Facing her, he tried to catch her eye. “Have you had a nice evening thus far?”
“Very pleasant.”
Worry stirred within him. This distance she was creating between them, this strained conversation returning, was far too reminiscent of how they’d begun their marriage. This was what he’d feared—Marie reverting to who she had been, a woman who could not be herself.
But he was a different man now, and he would not go down without a fight.
The music began, and Charles reached for her hands. She missed a beat, scrambling to catch up, but he adeptly helped her correct her mistake.
More steps were taken as they circled around each other, and all the while, Marie kept her eyes anywhere but on Charles. He soon discovered why, however, as he caught her swiftly swiping at a tear that glimmered down her cheek.
His heart slipped. She was crying. This was not how he’d wanted their first dance to turn out. This was not how he’d wanted any of it to turn out.
“Marie,” he whispered as they waited for the top couple to dance down the line. “Please, speak with me. What is the matter?”
She cleared her throat. “I...” She shook her head, then backed away from the set altogether. “I’m sorry. I cannot do this.”
With a final shake of her head, she turned on her slippers and fled.
Startled glances from those around the set shifted between her and Charles, but he hardly noticed.
“Marie,” he called out, walking directly through the set as he charged forth in her direction.
But she was too quick, slipping around the crowds until she vanished from his sight.
He paused near the refreshment table, looking left and right as panic flapped in his chest. He had no notion as to why she cried, but he knew he had put this off for too long. He couldn’t let the night go by—another minute go by—without telling her the truth.
“Charles?”
He whirled around, Mother coming up to him with a worried brow and Mr. Oakley right on her heel, his expression far less forgiving.
“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Mother continued. “We just saw Marie—”
“You saw her?” Charles interrupted. “Where did she go?”
Mr. Oakley scowled. “What have you done to upset her? She was crying, and my daughter never cries.”
Before, Charles had very little time for the man. Now, he could not even stomach seeing him. “This is none of your concern, sir.”
“She is my daughter,” he barked out. “I have every right—”
“She is my wife,” Charles interjected firmly.
Mr. Oakley stopped, his nostrils flaring.
Charles had an entire speech lined up for the man—words about how greatly Mr. Oakley had damaged his daughter and how he’d had no right to send such a disparaging and assuming letter to her—but time was of the essence. Marie was more important than a lecture right now.
Charles gave Mr. Oakley one more stern look, then faced his mother. “Please, where did she go?”
With wide eyes, she replied. “On the balcony, son.”
He made to leave, then paused, resting a comforting hand on Mother’s arm. “I promise I will tell you everything later. But for now, you must trust me.”
Mother nodded in an instant, obviously unused to seeing Charles in such a serious state, but he didn’t have time to explain.
He fled from the ballroom, side-stepping couples with their drinks and dodging pursuant older women until he reached the balcony. From there, he peered out into the darkness, pleading with Heaven before catching sight of a flash of pink disappearing down the steps.
He didn’t miss a beat, taking the stairs two at a time and ignoring the startled looks of other couples who had slipped out to enjoy the night air on the balcony.
When he reached the base of it, he spotted her tucked away in the darkness, leaning against the side of the house.
“Marie?” he asked softly.
She started. “Charles? What are you...”
He slowed his steps, taking in the sight of her tear-streaked cheeks glinting in the moonlight above them. The soft murmur of the ballroom sounded above, but no other guests had made it off the balcony, leaving the two of them finally alone.
“You shouldn’t be out here with me,” she said with a shake of her head. “It will ruin our chance for an annulment if rumors sprout.”
“I do not care.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it is true.” He closed the distance between them, ready to be finished with the secrets and the hidden feelings. He was ready for the truth. “Why did you run from me? Did you not wish to dance?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she began, then ended with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped forward, and she leaned against the wall behind her. “Because I could not see the purpose in doing so if you are not to remain my husband.”
A soothing warmth spread from his chest, and this time, he didn’t stamp it out.
“That is what you heard from Mr. Page, is it not?” she continued, her hand uselessly flapping down at her side.
“He did speak with me, yes,” Charles said softly. “He told me that since we were both forced into this marriage, an annulment could be sought after. But there is no guarantee that our names would remain untarnished. Especially after the time we’ve spent together—alone— in the cottage.”
She wiped away another tear, her gloves already removed and clasped in her left hand. “You needn’t worry on my account. I am perfectly capable of handling Society’s rejection.”
“Is that what you want? Do you still wish to end our marriage?”
She stared up at him, a vulnerability crossing her features before she pushed herself away from the wall and raised her chin. “I do not wish to be with a man who does not wish to be with me.”
Charles drew a steadying breath. “What of being with a man who does?”