Chapter 20 #2
Victor watched the scene from across the room and found himself strangely pleased by it, though pleasure had never been something he trusted for long.
Charlotte looked radiant in the pale ivory silk of her wedding gown, and even now, after the ceremony had ended, he could not stop staring at her.
His breath tightened unexpectedly at the sight of her smile. She had smiled at him during the ceremony as though she truly wished to become his wife, and that expression had stirred something dangerously warm inside his chest.
He disliked that warmth immensely.
Did she truly want to marry me, or was it merely to save her reputation and family?
He pushed the thought down and watched Charlotte cross the room to speak with Penelope while Joan loudly argued with Irene.
“It is a fact that lemon cakes are better than strawberry tarts,” she bickered.
Harriet attempted to referee the debate with theatrical despair. “Girls, must you argue over everything?”
Oswald calmly continued eating as though chaos did not reign around him.
Victor found himself oddly entertained by their family squabbles. His own household had not sounded this cheerful in years.
“They are loud,” Lionel said dryly as he appeared at Victor’s side.
Victor glanced at his brother and arched a brow. “You say that like a complaint.”
“I merely observed a fact.” Lionel accepted a glass from a passing servant. “Though I confess the house suits it better than silence.”
Victor hummed in agreement, but tension still settled between them all the same. It always did these days. Lionel studied him for a long moment before offering a small nod.
“Well then,” Lionel said, “congratulations, brother.”
Victor inclined his head. “Thank you.”
Lionel looked toward Charlotte, who was laughing now as Penelope nearly knocked over a teacup with exaggerated gestures. “I truly never believed I should see this day.”
Victor smirked faintly. “Nor did I.”
“You swore for years you would never marry,” Lionel continued. “Frankly, I thought even a scandal would fail to force your hand.”
Something cold flickered through Victor’s expression at those words. “You think so little of me?”
Lionel blinked once, clearly surprised by the sharpness in his tone. “That was not what I meant.”
“You implied I would ruin a lady rather than marry her,” Victor said quietly. “I may be many things, Lionel, but dishonourable is not one of them.”
Lionel immediately straightened. “You are right. I spoke poorly.”
Victor stared at him for a moment before finally exhaling. The irritation eased slightly from his shoulders, though not entirely. Lionel had always looked at him as though he were some unpredictable storm waiting to destroy everything nearby.
Perhaps I am.
“I apologize,” Lionel said sincerely. “Truly.”
Victor gave a short nod. “Very well.”
Lionel’s expression brightened almost instantly, as though he disliked tension nearly as much as Victor did.
“Besides,” he added lightly, “I expect you shall make surprisingly devoted parents one day.”
Victor nearly choked on his champagne.
Morgan burst into laughter somewhere behind them while Lionel frowned in confusion. Victor recovered quickly, though a hard knot had already formed in his stomach.
Children.
The very thought sent something dark and terrible curling through him.
“That,” Victor said coolly, “is exceedingly unlikely.”
Lionel looked puzzled. “Why?”
Victor’s jaw clenched.
Because everyone I loved dies. Because happiness never remains. Because one day a child might look at me with trust and affection, only to be ripped away by fate just as our parents had been.
He still remembered blood. He still remembered grief.
“I simply have no particular desire for a nursery full of screaming infants,” Victor replied flatly.
Morgan wandered closer with obvious delight sparkling in his eyes. “Oh, I should pay handsomely to see you holding a babe.”
“You could not afford such entertainment,” Victor muttered.
Lionel laughed softly. “Perhaps Charlotte will change your mind.”
At Charlotte’s name, Victor’s gaze instinctively shifted across the room again.
She stood near the windows now, sunlight catching in the warm brown curls pinned elegantly atop her head.
One of her sisters said something outrageous enough to make Charlotte laugh, and the sound drifted across the room like music.
Victor felt his mood ease despite himself.
It irritated him greatly.
He had spent years carefully constructing walls around every vulnerable part of himself. Desire was manageable. Lust was harmless. Affection, however, was dangerous.
Love destroys people.
Since his parents' passing, he had vowed never to allow another person enough importance to ruin him.
And yet Charlotte smiled at him across crowded rooms, and suddenly, breathing became easier.
It was intolerable.
“You are staring,” Morgan said smugly.
Victor took another drink. “You are imagining things.”
“You married her less than an hour ago and already look prepared to duel any man who glances her way,” Morgan observed. “Frankly, it is the most entertaining transformation I have ever witnessed.”
“I have not transformed.”
Lionel coughed delicately into his glass to hide what was obviously laughter.
Victor glared at both men. “You are insufferable.”
“True,” Morgan agreed cheerfully. “But not incorrect.”
Before Victor could respond, Charlotte approached them with graceful steps, her cheeks slightly flushed from conversation. The moment she stopped beside him, the restless irritation inside him settled almost instantly. She smiled up at Lionel first.
“Lord Lionel,” she said warmly, “my sisters are placing wagers on whether Uncle Oswald or my mother shall win their latest argument.”
Lionel looked intrigued. “What are they arguing about?”
“Whether swans are elegant or terrifying.”
Morgan barked out a laugh.
Charlotte sighed dramatically. “My mother claims they are graceful creatures of beauty while Uncle Oswald insists they are feathered demons.”
“They hiss,” Victor remarked. “Your uncle has a valid point.”
Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she turned toward him. “You would side with him merely because he insulted something beautiful.”
“I married something beautiful only this morning,” Victor replied smoothly. “Surely that proves my appreciation for such things.”
Color immediately rose into her cheeks.
Morgan made a choking sound behind them while Lionel suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
Victor felt ridiculously pleased by Charlotte’s blush.
“You are impossible,” she murmured softly.
“And yet… You married me.”
Her lips twitched at that. “I begin to suspect temporary madness.”
Victor stepped slightly closer to her, lowering his voice enough that only she could hear. “If this is madness, wife, I find I do not particularly mind it.”
The word wife affected her visibly. Her breath caught faintly, and for one dangerous moment Victor nearly forgot they stood in a crowded room filled with guests. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to drag her away from everyone else and finally claim her.
Tonight she will truly be mine.
The thought sent heat curling low through his body.
Charlotte seemed to sense the shift in his thoughts because her eyes widened slightly before she cleared her throat and stepped back. “Elizabeth wishes for more tea,” she said quickly.
Victor smirked. “A tragic loss.”
She shot him a warning glance, though amusement still danced beneath it. “Behave yourself, Your Grace.”
“Never.”
Charlotte shook her head helplessly before walking away again, leaving the faint scent of roses trailing behind her. Victor watched her return to Elizabeth’s side and felt that strange warmth spread through his chest once more.
Everything will be fine.
He could desire Charlotte without loving her and therefore losing her.
He could protect her reputation, honor their marriage, and still keep the dangerous parts of himself untouched. There would be no children. No vulnerable attachments. No unbearable grief waiting at the end of happiness.
Even as Charlotte looked back at him and smiled across the crowded room, Victor clung desperately to the lie that…
I will keep it all controlled.