I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m not a child,” Charlotte said. “I’m almost thirty, and I’m responsible for my marriage.”
“You’re educated, but Ganer Col ege hasn’t prepared you for the realities of the world outside these wal s. It doesn’t matter how old you are, you don’t have the experience of interacting with people outside a control ed environment. You’ve never been betrayed, hurt, or tricked.
You’ve never suffered humiliation. I look into people’s souls every day, and what I see there fil s me with joy, but also with dread. I wanted so much to spare you.”
She was talking as if the end of her marriage was a foregone conclusion. “My marriage isn’t over, and Elvei isn’t some sort of cal ous vil ain. So he didn’t tel me about his succession. It’s a rather regrettable oversight, but we wil deal with it. I understand that love doesn’t happen overnight, but I think he cares for me, and I care for him, deeply. We’ve lived together for almost three years. We wake up in the same bed. He told me he loved me when I began the fertility treatments.”
Lady Augustine studied her. “Perhaps you’re right, and he simply loves you. If he truly cares for you, he’l deal with it.” They took another step. The mix of worry and anxiety roiled inside Charlotte.
Heat rose behind her eyes, and she clamped her hand over her mouth.
Lady Augustine opened her arms.
Charlotte’s last defenses snapped. She stepped into the welcoming embrace and cried.
“My sweetheart, my precious one. It wil be al right,” Lady Augustine soothed, holding her. “It wil be al right. Let it al out.” But it wasn’t al right, and now Charlotte had to tel Elvei about it.
What they said about coming to love a person you live with was true: she had come to love him. He was always kind to her, and she could use some of that kindness now. She felt weak and helpless.
So helpless.
The path brought her to the northern patio. Her husband sat in a chair, drinking his morning tea and peering over papers.
Of average height and muscular build, Elvei was handsome in that particular aristocratic blueblood way: precise features, carved with a perfection that seemed a touch distant, square jaw, narrow nose, blue eyes, brown hair with a hint of red. When she woke up next to him, with the morning light playing on his face, she often thought he was beautiful.
Charlotte came up the steps. Elvei rose and held out a chair for her. She sat and passed him the letter.
He read it, impassive, his pleasant face calm. She had expected more of a reaction.
“This is unfortunate,” Elvei said.
That’s it? Unfortunate? Her instincts told her something was seriously wrong with that placid expression on his face.
“I truly care for you,” Elvei said.
“Very deeply.” He reached over the table and took her hand in his. “Being married to you is effortless, Charlotte. I have nothing but admiration for what you do and who you are.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. The logical part of her knew she had nothing to do with her infertility. She didn’t cause it, and she had done everything in her power to fix it. She wanted a baby as much as Elvei. But she felt guilty al the same.
“Please don’t be.” He leaned back.
“It’s not your fault or mine. It’s just an accident of fate.”
He was so calm, almost cavalier about it. It would’ve been better if he cursed or threw something. He sat stil in his chair, but every word he said was a smal step back, increasing the distance between them. “We can adopt,” she said, hopeful.
“I’m sure you could.”
Alarm blared in her head. “You said
‘you.’ Not ‘we.’”
He pushed a piece of paper across the table to her. “I thought that things might turn out this way, so I took the liberty of preparing this.” She glanced at the paper.
“Annulment?” Her composure shattered.
He might as wel have stabbed her. “After two and a half years, you want to annul our marriage? Are you out of your mind?” Elvei grimaced. “We’ve been over this before: I have three years from the beginning of marriage to produce an heir.
My brother is engaged, Charlotte. I told you about that two months ago. He’l have three years to produce a child. If I divorce you and remarry, I’l have six months before becoming ineligible to inherit. You can’t make a baby in six months. I need an annulment, so my three years can restart, or Kalin wil get there before me. He stil might, al things considered, as marriage takes time . . .” This wasn’t happening. “So you’re just going to pretend that everything we shared in these years doesn’t exist and discard me? Like trash?” He sighed. “I told you, I have a great deal of admiration for you. But the purpose of this marriage was to have a family.”