Chapter 9 #2
“Conversation?” She felt her stomach turning, sensing where he was going with this, praying she was misreading him.
“I was not clear when I asked you to be my wife, but you must understand that this marriage is not typical, nor should it be treated as such.”
“Not typical...” She laughed awkwardly. “Are you not my husband? I did not misunderstand what happened today, did I?”
“You are right that, under normal circumstances, an heir is something that you and I would try for.” How romantic.
“But the circumstances for this marriage are far from normal. I do not require an heir, as I have decided already that my brother’s son, when he produces one, will inherit my title and my lands. ”
“Oh...” Her stomach dropped.
“And for that reason, there is no need for you and I to go to bed together.”
“That is... I do not even know what to say.” Her heart sank.
“I should have been clearer,” he continued, seemingly unconcerned with the effect his words were having on her. “But it is done now. As I told you when I asked for your hand, this marriage was brought about due to circumstance and expectation.
At my age, with my position, it was seen as odd that I was not yet married. An oddity which I was forced to rectify and have since done. It is, for all intents and purposes, a marriage of convenience and nothing more.”
The words were crushing in ways that Florentia did not know to be possible. She felt them inside of her, wrapping her heart and other organs, squeezing them tight, painfully, breaking her down until she could hardly stand or even breathe.
He does not want children... he does not want a family... he does not want the only thing in this world for which I have ever aspired. This marriage, it is... it has become... I am trapped.
Tears began to well in her eyes. Only, Florentia was quick to curb that notion as she gave way to another sensation, a far more accommodating one that she allowed to flow through her because she could not believe that this had happened!
She had been manipulated! Led to believe something which she now knew not to be true!
Worse than that, there was nothing she could do.
“How dare you!” she hissed at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she snapped. “How dare you stand there and... and pretend that this is somehow my fault!”
“Your fault?” He frowned. “I do not believe I said such a thing.”
“You implied it! When you asked for my hand,” she retorted.
“You did no such thing. You demanded it! You demanded it, giving me no choice in the matter, refusing to speak with me or seek me out or...or...or anything! And all this time, the one hope I had to hang onto was the idea that once we were married, that you would do as any sane man would wish to do! What is right! But no,” she continued hotly.
“I cannot even have that, because the man I have found myself tied to is... is... is the most cold, dispassionate, miserable lord in all of England!”
She put her hands on her hips and glared daggers at her husband.
Anger swirled inside of her. Fury raged.
Fire spit from her eyes and nostrils as if she were a dragon.
Had she gone too far? Had she said things that she should not?
Most likely. But she did not care. The time for caring was long since past because as she saw it, things could not get any worse.
Her husband reared back, taken by surprise by her sudden hostility. A hard man to read at the best of times, she didn’t have to work very hard to see the anger flash behind his eyes. And the way his lip curled, and his nostrils flared only confirmed it.
“You are upset,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I am more than—”
“And for that reason, I will forgive what you have just said,” he spoke over her with a deep growl that she felt in her own chest somehow A hulking mass of muscle and power, she suddenly became very aware of just how big he was compared to her petite frame.
“But I will remind you, that I am still your husband, and you are still my wife, and so long as we are married, I expect you to treat me with respect.”
“Ha! And what of what I expect?”
“That is not my concern.”
“How dare—”
“I have told you what this is,” he snarled.
“Not as soon as I probably should have, but it is done. And if you know anything about me, know this. I do not respond to threats, I do not respond to hostility, and I certainly do not respond to petty tantrums. Is that clear?” He barked those final words, rearing over her, his sheer size a tempestuous force trying to batter her into submission.
She held his glare the best she could, refusing to back down. “Crystal clear,” she said back, her jaw clenched.
“Good.” He widened his eyes in warning a final time. “Now, if there is nothing else to discuss, I shall be retiring for the evening. Alone.”
“As you are well used to, I am sure.”
He bristled at that, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then snapped them open. He was still angry, she could see that. But he did what he could to contain it, obviously not wanting to fight, and so very clearly wishing to be as far from his wife as was humanly possible.
“Good night,” he said stiffly, stepping around her before she had a chance to say anything else. “I will see you on the morrow.”
Florentia spun about to watch him go—to watch him run, was how she read it.
He stormed up the steps, disappearing around the corner, his heavy footsteps fading the further he went until their sound vanished and she was left standing alone, her heavy breathing the only sound which remained, the only evidence left behind of their fight.
Alone...as her breathing calmed, and as silence took over, the sense of being alone consumed her like an ice-cold wind.
She felt it deep inside of her. Knees buckling, she grabbed onto the banister, very nearly collapsing where she stood.
No one came for her. No one cared. It was a state of being she was going to have to get used to.
Sadness, is all I have left. Although that seems obvious, doesn’t it? Crushing sadness, hopelessness, helplessness, and misery. Choose one, Florentia, for they all apply. This is your life now, so you’d better get used to it.