Page 85 of Madcap with a Marquess
Lie.
He had chosen not to open them, to let them sit untouched. Every time he’d reached for them, he’d merely stuffed them back in a drawer. Like hiding them away could protect whatever Franny and he had built from his mother’s influence.
Franny’s mouth flattened. She heard it, too. The lie.
She stared at him silently, studied him, and he forced himself not to squirm. “I fail to see why that would mean I have to change my attire or why I cannot partake in a ride,” she finally said.
“We must greet her upon her arrival. You cannot run rampant in breeches while my mother is here, Franny. I believe we can win her over in your favor if you make a good impression and act as a lady ought.”
She rapped her whip repeatedly against her thigh. “That is where you are wrong, Rupert. I do not have to do anything I do not wish to do just becauseyour motherdisapproves. I have absolutely no desire to win her over.”
Rupert sighed heavily. Could she not make this easy on him? Just the once. Meet him halfway, at least? This visit would be extremely trying on their tenuous marriage. But the more they pleased Mother, the easier it would be. His mother needed to see how amazing Franny was for herself, realize that the woman standing before him was not just a suitable wife for him, but theperfectwife.
“Please, Franny. It is breeches. This is not a battle worth fighting. I’m not asking you to change who you are, only to be practical. Change into a dress—for one afternoon—and this entire visit will go much easier on us.”
But his plea had the last effect he could have imagined.
Her eyes sparked with fire. “No. I will not feed into this…this unhealthy relationship you have with your mother.” She pointed her whip at him, jabbing it in his direction. “You completely change who you are to fit what she wants, Rupert. Do you not see how wrong that is? Goodness, all I am doing is going for a ride, in the country, on my own home’s land, in breeches. Anyone who sees me will probably even suspect I’m a lad! It’s not as though I’m dancing through Hyde Park in them.”
“Franny,” he said in exasperation. “Women do not wear breeches. That is not a rule set by my mother. It is what theworldexpects. Requesting you don a dress is far from an unreasonable ask.”
She glared at him, all life, all strength. “She is journeying here without invitation,unannounced,and here you are rearranging everything for her. We are to spend the rest of our lives together, Rupert. I will not spend decades of my life pretending to be someone I am not. I had thought you felt differently…but if that is what you wish to do, then that is your prerogative.”
He flinched, each barb hitting him like a well-placed arrow. He ripped them out, would have to examine the wounds later, her words later. Was it truly so unreasonable to expect his wife to impress his mother? Or was this yet another belief ingrained in him that wasn’t necessarily true? Respecting one’s elders wasn’t wrong—surely.
“All right.” He drew in a heavy breath. “I will make your excuses when she arrives, then.”
Her face tightened, and something heart-wrenching flashed in her eyes. But then she spun on her heel to leave.
“Franny…”
She paused in the doorway, her chin brushing over her shoulder as she glanced back at him, sadness glimmering in her green irises. “This is about so much more than breeches, Rupert. If only you could see that.”
And then she was gone.
His mother hadn’t even stepped through the door yet, and Franny was already gone. Everything they had built, the unsteady foundation of their future…
He dropped his head in his hands and squeezed.
Was it gone?
42
Franny
Frannystormedintothestables. The insufferable man! She had truly believed they had turned a corner. She thought they were moving forward. Everything had been…perfect. Her eyes burned, and she rubbed them fiercely with her fists. Rubbing away the ache, burying the tears far back into the recesses of her skull. She should have known it wouldn’t last. The moment his mother reappeared, the old Rupert returned with alarming alacrity.
A despairing breath huffed from her lungs. His mother hadn’t even arrived yet, and he was already reattaching his strings.
Panic skittered through her blood, scraping along her veins. She forced her breaths to remain even, trying to control the fear gathering deep in her belly. The fear that she was going to lose him. Because this was it. The true test. Could their marriage survive his mother? Pain lanced through her. Because she didn’t know how she’d survive if the answer was no.
“Hi, Jonny.” She forced a smile as she greeted the stable boy. “Are any of the grooms about? I would like Blaze readied for a ride.”
Jonny tugged on his sandy blond forelock. “Right aways, m’lady.”
A moment later, hooves dancing against the stone stable floor rang through the aisle. Blaze’s prancing figure was led by one of the grooms, a saddle cloth slung across his back, Jonny carrying a shining walnut leather saddle.
“He’s in a right mood this morning, m’lady,” the groom said. “Think he needs a good hard run.”
