Page 61 of Not his Marchioness
She glared at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was half past nine. She was going to show him.
She made her way to the refreshments table and poured herself a glass of lemonade, then ate a slice of dry cake with butter, followed by another glass of lemonade.
After that, she took a turn about the room, stopping for several minutes to speak to her acquaintances, as well as Lady Rosslyn, who expressed her enthusiasm for the school. Then, she made her way back to the refreshments table for a glass of wine and a slice of plum cake. An hour and fifteen minutes had passed when she finally got up and walked across the ballroom, slowly this time, again taking her time to talk and chat and be merry.
By the time she arrived at the front door, it was forty-five minutes past the agreed-on hour. Or rather, the stipulated hour.
Rhys stood with one leg crossed over the other as he leaned against the wall.
“I thought I was going to have to call in the Bow Street Runners to mount a search for you,” he said.
“Well,” she replied, “you know how it is. A young lady, looking to establish herself in Society, must take the time to converse and chat with whoever wishes to chat with her. You ought to know this, given how rebuilding your reputation is one of the main reasons why we wed.”
He pressed his lips together. “Let’s go. The carriage is already waiting. I dare say several gentlemen will be rather vexed at having to walk a greater distance because our carriage is in the way.”
“Walking a few extra steps to one’s carriage,” she scoffed. “Yes, I hope they will survive. I know a few extra steps toward a waiting carriage is a great hardship for gentlemen like you.”
He paused, tilting his head to the side as he watched her, but she walked on without him.
At the carriage, the coachman opened the door and handed her in. She sat in the far corner, crossing her legs at the ankle as she fanned herself, even though she wasn’t warm at all. In fact, it was cold.
“It is a shame,” she said, more to herself than him, “that it has been raining so much and we have had no snow. It has been only thunder, rain, and brimstone of late.”
“Brimstone?” Rhys echoed. “We must be experiencing quite different weather.”
She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You know what I mean. It’s almost Christmastide and there is no snow.”
He shrugged. “Whether it snows or not does not matter. If anything, snow only impedes our progress.”
“But it looks pretty,” she mumbled, looking out at the streets blurring past.
He sighed. “Well, it may look pretty, but it is all pretend. Underneath is the same refuse-soaked streets, full of horse manure, as every other day—just covered under a pretty layer.”
“Like our marriage, you mean?”
He shook his head. “I would not compare our marriage to a street full of horse manure, but if you wish to think of it as such, then be my guest.”
How in the world had they come to this point? Why did this continue to happen?
They had a perfectly pleasant evening—more than pleasant, in fact—and then he had suddenly changed again. And she couldn’t help herself; whenever he grew so petulant, so petty, she had to follow in his footsteps.
She knew perfectly well what Marianne would say.“Be the bigger person.Be the better person. Rise above.”
Her aunt would tell her the same. She would recount an anecdote of how, whenever her uncle behaved like a beast, she would act sweetly, making him guilty and ashamed of his actions.
Charlotte wished she could be like that, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t. Not with Rhys. Not with anyone, really.
“Gadzooks,” he blurted, and she turned to him.
“What is it?” she asked.
He was looking out the window. “Our nemesis is walking down Bond Street,” he said.
She scooted over to the other side of the carriage and, sure enough, sawhimwalking there, his walking stick swinging back and forth.
A shiver ran through her. “I have not seen him in weeks, and yet now that I look at him, it is as though our paths just crossed.”
“Well, thanks to that manure-covered street you chose, you do not have to worry about that again,” Rhys drawled.
