Page 12 of Marry in Secret
The marriage must be annulled, of course.
Of course Aunt Agatha would want that, and possibly Cal—maybe everyone wanted it. But what did she want?
And what did Thomas want? Presumably he wanted her, wanted the marriage to go on. But after that “stop the wedding” he hadn’t said much. Or done much, apart from catching her when she fainted.
She hadn’t said much either. Or done anything at all.
Footmen filled the bath with steaming water and left. Milly tipped in some bath salts, swished them around and adjusted the temperature of the water. Rose removed the last of her clothes and sank into the hot, fragrant water.
If anyone had told her that a woman who thought herself a widow—a widow of a beloved husband, at that—mightfeel... conflicted? Confused? Bewildered? on his return, she wouldn’t have believed it.
Oh, her brain told her she was delighted, full of joy, relieved, thrilled—all the good, happy things that were to be expected, but instead she felt... numb.
She soaped her sponge.
Not entirely numb. More like a limb slowly coming back to life, pins and needles, only a hundred times worse.
She’d buried Thomas, in her heart and in her mind—at least she’d tried to. So hard. A part of her had been frozen solid, ever since she’d read that small paragraph in the paper: “all hands lost.”
Now he was back, and it was as if her heart were breaking all over again... Unbreaking. As painful as before, if not more so.
She sponged herself. Guilt tore at her for giving up on him, for the way she’d behaved after the news of his death. Guilt for never telling anyone else about him.
And guilt for not recognizing him when he’d spoken up in the church, for denying him—her own husband—in front of witnesses. Like Judas.
All the while preparing to marry another man.
She loved Thomas, of course she did. At least she used to.
But what had happened to him? Where had he been all this time? And why had he never sent word to her to let her know he was alive?
This spare, somber, wild-looking stranger... That he was Thomas, she had no doubt of, but was heherThomas? He was, and he wasn’t.
And that was half the agony.
If she let herself love him as she had before—blindly and completely, with her whole unfettered, unruly heart—how could she bear it if she lost him again?
What if he’d changed so much he was no longerherThomas?
I used to want too much out of life.
The impulsive young girl who’d married Thomas was no longer the same, either.
Rose rinsed herself off and stepped out of the bath. Her family was downstairs, waiting for an explanation she didn’t know how to make.
She dressed quickly.
Thomas would arrive soon. The explanations she’d have to make to him would be even harder.
She wanted to run away.I’m more mature now.
She pulled a face at the girl in the mirror, picked up the locket and fastened it around her neck. Then she straightened her dress, took a deep breath and headed downstairs.
***
“Can’t stay, I’m afraid,” Ollie told Thomas as they emerged from the church into the fresh cool air. They paused on the church steps. Most of the spectators, deprived of both drama and the expected shower of coins, had drifted away. “Have to get back. Left m’office without notice. Admiralty frowns on that sort of thing.” He fished in his pocket, produced an elegant silver card case and handed a card to Ashendon. “M’card, Ashendon. At your service any time.”
Ashendon glanced at it and slipped it into a pocket.
