Page 75 of Wed By Proxy

Strangely enough, speaking the words made him feel somehow better. With each second that had passed since he made his declaration he felt stronger, like some weight had lifted from his shoulders. The terrible ache that had filled his chest was abating, though not gone completely. Still, her expression was wooden, unbending.

She opened her mouth, but before she could even speak her unforgiving words, he said, “I never loved Julia Kerslake. It was just a passing boyhood fancy. I admired her looks when I was too young to notice her personality.”

This made her fall silent for a moment, but her expression was still unutterably hurt. “I lied,” she said sadly, robbing him of all breath. “I loved you as soon as I clapped eyes on you. You were everything I ever wanted in life.”

His heart swelled, though his mind boggled at the fact he could ever have been anyone’s romantic ideal. Then the past tense of her statement filtered through the glow. Were?

“I still am,” he said belligerently. “Or I’d better be.” She said nothing, and he took a deep breath. “Mathilde?” She gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m not giving you any more time to yourself,” he growled. “I’m never making that mistake again.” She closed her eyes, and he walked unsteadily forward.

“Please, don’t—sweetheart, I can’t stand it. I won’t.”

This isn’t working, he thought wretchedly. He needed to take a different approach. Hauling her out of her seat at the loom, he half dragged her over to the window seat. He saw her seated and then knelt at her feet. It was the only way to bring them onto a similar level.

“When I first saw you,” he said desperately. “I wanted to shelter you, from the law even. And I didn’t even know who you were then.” No reaction. He continued. “Then when you revealed yourself, I was so angry, so very angry.” He swallowed. “But still… I felt this, this strange urge to protect and …” own you, would sound wrong. Take ownership of you. No, that was wasn’t right either. “I wanted so badly to…” join my body with you? “…be with you,” he stammered.

Gods, he was bad at this!

“I didn’t trust you, but I wanted you so, so much. And that threw me too, because in recent years I felt I disliked and mistrusted women. But you were so beautiful and so different from what I knew and what I thought I knew. I just couldn’t stay away from you. Not if my life depended on it. I wanted to possess you utterly.”

He winced at his crudeness. He’d be lucky if she didn’t run screaming from the room at this rate. He fell silent waiting for some sign from her that his words had registered. When she did speak, it still took him by surprise.

“My first husband was seventy-nine years old,” she said in a quiet voice, and he clenched his fists until his short nails bit into his palms. “I only met him twice. My second husband I met once on his death bed.”

He nodded, managing to stop himself from denying anyone was ever her husband save himself. It took an effort though.

“Aye,” he said roughly. He wanted her confidences, for her to talk to him. Just not about other men in her life.

“I didn’t know anything about … husbands or the marriage bed,” she said refusing to look at him.

He cleared his throat. He already knew that. “I don’t understand how—” he started hoarsely, but she cut him off.

“I was twenty-four years of age. I still had Nurse, although there was no more story-time. It wasn’t needed anymore. My mother had successfully maneuvered me through three political marriages, yet I had never left her side. I had never run my own household, had never held a child of my own in my arms...” Her voice cracked.

“Sweetheart…”

She turned her face away again. “It’s too late Guy. You have broken my heart.”

XXXII

Mathilde spent a melancholy, but quiet afternoon at her tapestry. She got a goodly portion of it started off and felt quietly pleased with her progress, though in all likelihood she would spend the rest of her life trying to forget everything that had taken place at the lodge. Her insides still felt lacerated, though. If she sat very still, and very quiet, she told herself, then there was a chance she would not fall completely apart.

In an odd way, it reminded her of her old life, back in the days when she all she had wanted was to go unnoticed. How she would have loved to have sat at such a loom in a beautiful room like this away from all the intrigues at court! Lettys had picked up on Mathilde’s desire for silence, and asked for leave to go and fetch a basket of mending from her own room. Mathilde quickly assented. It would be peaceful for the two of them to sit industriously occupied for the afternoon. With a bit of luck, she would not need to speak more than a handful of words between now and bedtime.

She sank into silence, and when the door creaked, she did not turn her head at once, imagining it was Lettys returning. A small cough sounded, and Mathilde turned her head to find a good-looking man with copper hair wearing a very fine burgundy doublet hovering in the doorway. He looked strangely familiar to her. Frowning slightly, she turned back to her task, guessing he had taken a wrong turn. She had no desire to speak with him. After a moment, the door carefully closed, but the sound of a throat being politely cleared, made her turn back again.

“Lady Martindale,” he said presenting her with a very elegant bow. “I trust I do not intrude?”

She gazed at him wordlessly. What could she answer to that? When plainly he was intruding in the worst way. His lips twitched, and to her surprise she realized he was amused by her pointed silence.

“I am Tristan Kerslake, your very humble servant. Perhaps you, ah, remember me from the most unfortunate feast two nights ago?” Mathilde’s brow puckered. She remembered no one from the banquet save the principle players. “I was the one who identified you as the rightful marchioness,” he said with assumed modesty.

“Did you?” Mathilde asked after a small pause.

“Though in truth, you would not remember it, for you had already fled by that point.”

Mathilde shrugged a shoulder. He really was very good-looking, she thought dispassionately, though perhaps a little on the short side. Of course, that might just be because she was comparing him to Guy. Oh dear. She would always she realized, for the rest of her days, compare men with Guy.

“I have a friend in Aphrany who pointed you out to me once. You were part of the queen’s royal retinue.”