Marriage of convenience. Marital freedom. No obligations. She felt... used. As if he'd relieved his guilt over his sister - his guilt over his manhood in a system that favored him - by writing out a silly contract and dismissing her. She had given him something so important, something she had never given any man - something she didn't want to give to any other man, but him. Not just her body, not just the most sacred of covenants; but her love, something she'd never felt.
Now whatever scars he bore had ruined all that and it made her feel... broken. She had felt rage, she had felt bitterness; but now, all she wanted was simply to shrivel away as a flower blustered by a harsh winter.
"I only... wanted to see your face happy, some day, Nadia. I had hoped it could be with him... he seemed to understand you, like no other suitor," Lord Havenshire lamented sadly.
"Father, I... I don't know, why he would do this, our day... together, we..." she huffed, exhaling sharply. "I don't understand this. It doesn't make sense! Why would he want?" She held her fists tight, shaking. "I... I can't... Egan!" she shouted through the doorway.
"Nadia, please, as much as it pains me, at least let me have the opportunity of giving you a wedding," Lord Havenshire pleaded.
"I'm preparing a carriage," she said in a flurry," destined for his manor. We're going to discuss this. I'm... I'm sure it's simply a misunderstanding," she murmured. "...Certainly."
But had it been? As she stormed through the halls, barking for Egan to prepare a carriage, she thought on darker things. Had Mary been right? If the man who had her had claimed her virginity and simply left her afterwards, not to speak to her again...
How could you be so stupid? Lady Havenshire asked herself, swallowing hard. She had been sweet-talked right into the place that he had wanted her. He had gotten what he wanted - and now he had left.
No. He couldn't have. She would get to the bottom of this.
CHAPTER TWENTY
"Has something happened between you and Lord Beckham, m'lady?" Egan asked, breaking his little, jaunty whistle of his favorite tune. It was a bad time to ask such a question of Lady Havenshire, who had spent hours now as a nervous disaster; she had boarded the carriage with breath heavy and heart throbbing, full of fear and full of rage about the pithy contract that the man she had fallen in love with left behind to be signed. A marriage of convenience. Loveless. Hardly a marriage at all. She found it odd, the more she thought on it, that she had ever thought of such an arrangement as attractive at all! Who would enter into bonds so deeply-held, without love to bind it together? She couldn't believe that he would do such a thing! Hadn't he fallen in love with her, just the same as she had fallen for him? Hadn't he felt that spark, like the flash of flint and tinder against the dried wood, erupt into a heart-gripping fire, just as she had? Hadn't he said those adoring words to her by the light of the raging flames, as thunder cracked and rumbled in the distance, rattling the windows to the cabin?
He'd promised her everything. He'd called her a goddess, and he worshiped her just the same. And now he proposed a loveless marriage, simply for the inheritance of name and title? Her heart hurt, and she fought away tears, spurred on by Egan's poorly-timed question. He glanced back as the carriage pulled through the mountains and rocky pathways leading up the hills towards the Berrewithe estate; seeing redness staining her eyes and flowing along her cheeks, he took sudden alarm.
"M'lady, has something happened? Should we turn around?" he queried, full of worry.
"No! No," she shouted insistent, her voice wracked and ragged from the warbling of her angry, melancholy voice. "We've got to see Lord Beckham. He needs to speak with me, to answer for... for this," she said, voice harsh and shrill, waving the contract - she'd taken it with her, if only to throw it into his face as she cried at the loss of love.
"M'lady—he's asked for your hand in marriage, hasn't he?" Egan questioned curiously.
"It's not that simple, Egan. To him, I'm just a convenient excuse for his guilty conscience, for taking advantage of his sister - and this... this contract, it's just him relieving himself of guilt for taking advantage of me," she shouted.
"M'lady, I'm... isn't that what you... wanted? To have a man in marriage, but not to stifle your life?" Egan questioned. She swallowed hard; her throat hurt from the shouting, and the tears, but she had to say it; if only to hear herself say the words aloud.
"I... I don't want that, Egan. I love him," she said, quivering. Surprise in the portly
porter's face, he turned to the horses, coaxing them along the roadway faster.
"We'll get you to the manor, m'lady," Egan called back to her, the horses picking up pace until they practically bounded forward, along the hills and rocky roadways, the carriage bouncing wildly along the path. The vehicle came to an abrupt stop as Egan called out to the creatures who whinnied loudly, the creaking wheels spinning their last as the hasty chauffeur unlatched the carriage door.
"Tell him that, m'lady," Egan pleaded. "Tell him. Any lord who would turn down true love - he doesn't deserve you, Nadia. Tell him." She nodded to Egan, who bowed; the doors swung open, and Ms. Cauthfield emerged from the manor; when she saw Nadia, a wanting sympathy filled the old woman's face as she dashed across the yard.
"Lady Havenshire, Lord Beckham has..." Ms. Cauthfield sniffled. "He... he thought you would come to see him, but he's requested... no visitors, at this time. He's had a difficult time—"
"HE'S had a difficult time?" Nadia exclaimed, the tears still staining her eyes red. Ms. Cauthfield, face full of regret, full of worry for her master, shook her head.
"Has he not told you about Anna? About his wedding, in the Delshire Moors? About..." Ms. Cauthfield appeared broken, fearful. "I told him... he needed to get past it. I told him, but he never did. And now he hates himself, and won't have a word with you, Nadia."
"Ms. Cauthfield, I love him," Nadia urged. "I... I truly do love him." Ms. Cauthfield's face lit up when she heard Nadia's exclamation; she smiled, even as tears began to stream from the old woman's face.
"He shall have my head for this, but... I'm not going to stop you from speaking with him," Ms. Cauthfield said, sniffling. "Go, please... talk to him. Try to break him from this spell that's driven him to despair... please," she muttered. Nadia pressed past the old woman and to the front door, pull it open with a flourish, a sudden spark of hope glimmering in her eye. They could talk; he would be reasonable, wouldn't he? After all, she loved him.
"Nadia, I should have expected you'd come, and that... Ms. Cauthfield, bless her, would think it best if I saw you, in spite of my wishes," Lord Beckham announced, standing at the stairwell of his grand foyer. He sighed, his voice not that booming, enthralling baritone she had so enjoyed in their first meetings. No, now it felt like a simple shell, a show of false-authoritativeness put on to convince listeners of his sincerity. "M'lady, I don't think... we have much to speak about. Has your father given you the contract? I do believe he... signed it, after I left," Lord Beckham asked. A sea of maidservants and house staff stood at the base of the steps, pretending to work; in truth, few of them could pay attention to their duties, as their attention slipped away to the exchange between the nobles instead.
"Lord Beckham, I don't understand—we need to speak about this... contract," she said, the words slithering with venom.
"What's not to understand?" he said, brooding, watching farmers and ranchers and workers out on the moors beyond through his window. "I thought this was... well, precisely what you and your father have been looking for. Your freedom... the freedom you deserve as a grown woman. A freedom from the cage you were unfortunately born in to. Your father agreed. It'd be for the best."
"My father agreed? My father agreed because he's an ailing old man! He wants me to be happy, and this isn't happiness!" Nadia shouted.