Page 67 of An Unwilling Earl
“What if I decide to stay? You will be burdened with me for the rest of your days.”
One corner of his lips lifted in a smile. “I think I can live with that.”
“I might be an ogre of a wife.”
“I highly doubt that.”
She would be a countess, but that mattered little to her. If there was one thing she had learned from her mother and father it was that titles meant little in the face of happiness. And maybe, just maybe, they could find happiness.
“And if I left, would you divorce me?”
“If that is what you want.”
“You are an earl now. You have to think of the continuation of the earldom. You need heirs. What woman will marry a divorced earl?”
“According to you, there are plenty of American heiresses just lining up to marry us.”
She laughed at the thought of Jacob marrying an American, even as the thought twisted like a knife inside of her. “Even in America, divorce is frowned upon.”
“It doesn’t matter, Charlotte. I’m sure the crown can find some distant relative who will fill my shoes when I’m gone.”
The thought of Jacob gone saddened her. The thought of eventually leaving him saddened her even more, but the thought of a long life with him, knowing he still loved Cora and would never love her that way, made her even sadder.
How to pick between all of the sadness?
Chapter Twenty
One week later the ceremony was attended by Lord Armbruster, Lord Chadley, and Lady Sarah Crawford. Jacob insisted that Charlotte purchase a gown of her own. She suspected that he didn’t want to wed her while she was wearing his dead wife’s clothing.
She chose a simple gown of light blue, something serviceable that she would be able to wear again.
Sarah had helped her pick it out.
The ceremony was short. Charlotte thought it only took a few minutes, but Sarah insisted it had been a little longer than that. Charlotte had tried not to look at Jacob, afraid of what she would see. Regret? Sadness?
She’d finally agreed to marry him because she felt it was her only choice. In the end, she knew that she couldn’t turn her back on the women of London who were in danger perhaps because of Edmund.
But before she could save others, she needed to secure her own safety, and marrying Jacob was the only way to do that. Now that she was out of the clutches of her aunt, the baroness could spout all kinds of lies about Charlotte, but her husband’s name and title would protect her.
Charlotte was now the Countess of Ashland.
Mrs. Smith held a small feast afterward with just the five of them in attendance. Chadley, Armbruster, and Sarah tried to make it festive. There were a few toasts and some strained smiles. It was the first time she’d met Armbruster, and she found him engaging and fun. He and Jacob told tales of when they were at Eton together and had everyone laughing. She could see they had a close friendship forged over many years. It was hinted by Mrs. Smith that Armbruster was the one who had saved Jacob from his grief after Cora’s death.
Eventually they left, and Charlotte faced her husband.
Her husband.
She twisted the plain gold band around her finger, realized what she was doing, and dropped her hands to her sides. They stared at each other, an awkward silence between them.
“So,” she said, just to fill the silence. She really had no idea what to say after that. They’d not talked at all about what would happen after the ceremony.
“I know this wasn’t your ideal wedding,” Jacob said. “But I think it was for the best.”
“Knowing that I don’t have to fear my aunt anymore makes it worth it.”
“At least I can give you that. You are very beautiful in your new gown,” he said.
“Thank you.” She pulled on the ends of her hair. It was getting longer, but only by increments. It would take years for her hair to be the length it was before. Mrs. Smith had parted it to the side and swept it behind her ears. A fringe of it had fallen across her forehead, giving her a softer look. Instead of a veil she had worn a ring of white and soft pink flowers on her head.
