Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

T he next day, Anthony found himself seated in a lavish carriage, but the comforts of the carriage did nothing to ease the tension that crackled in the air between him and Eliza.

The journey to Redfern Castle, meant to be the beginning of their life together, felt more like a punishment than a new chapter.

Anthony sat across from her, his posture rigid and his gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside. His jaw was clenched tightly, the muscles working beneath his skin, holding back a torrent of anger.

Eliza, fidgeting with the lace of her gloves, finally broke the silence, her voice tentative, "Anthony, I realize this isn't how either of us imagined things would unfold, but… Surely, we can try to make the best of it?"

Anthony lifted his gaze up to meet hers, his eyes cold.

"Make the best of it?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and your aunt conspired to trap me into this. Do not insult me by pretending otherwise."

Eliza looked as though he had struck her and she struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, "I had no part in that, Anthony. I would never scheme against you. You must know that."

"Must I?" Anthony retorted, his tone biting. "Your aunt's well-timed swoon, the way she followed us to the balcony with that gossiping harpy—what am I to believe, Eliza? That you are innocent in all of this? That you had no idea what she was doing?"

Eliza's frustration flared, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and hurt. "I am innocent! You know my relationship with her; you saw how she treated me. Why on earth would I conspire with her? You think I wanted to be forced into a marriage with a man who despises me? Do you truly think I would trap you like this?"

Anthony pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing at her.

Eliza took his hand in hers; he almost flinched at the touch, but she did not back down.

"Anthony, look at me," she implored and his eyes found hers.

"I would never, ever do something like that to you," she spoke, her voice deep and sincere, soothing like a ray of sunshine amongst the grayest of clouds.

Anthony gulped, unsettled by the effect she had on him.

"Very well. I… I am sorry for accusing you. I was caught up with the suddenness of the situation and… I judged blindly," he mumbled and relief softened the round, pretty features of her face.

"Thank you. For believing me. Though I'd have liked it if you had from the beginning," she said with a small smile.

He felt the corner of his lip twitch upwards upon seeing her smile.

And the relief he himself felt as he realized that she hadn't ensnared him with that abominable relative of hers… It was too much, too deep—he felt like he was jumping into a black abyss that would swallow him whole.

No , this woman was getting too close.

He pulled his hand away from hers, "And yet here we are, aren't we?"

She frowned at his movement but straightened herself anyway.

"Yes. That is what I wanted us to handle. I mean, we can make the best of this situation, somehow," she suggested.

"I told you, I had no wish to marry before this."

"Yes, I am aware."

"So, you must understand that this marriage is a formality, nothing more. We were forced into this situation thanks to your aunt. Your dowry will greatly help settling some of my estate's accounts, which is rather favorable indeed… But you should not expect me to play the part of the doting husband."

Eliza stared at him with her large doe eyes, blinking with surprise.

"That is it, then?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You are going to pretend I do not exist? Pretend that I am not your wife?"

Anthony's expression hardened, his gaze unyielding. "We will maintain appearances for the sake of the ton, but nothing beyond that."

"And what about me, Anthony? What am I supposed to do?"

"You wanted freedom, Eliza. Now you have it."

Eliza clenched her fists and then looked out the carriage window, her eyes dark and full of winter storms.

"All right, Your Grace," were the only words she uttered.

And although she had agreed, a small part of him loathed seeing her defeated like that.

When evening began to fall, Eliza and Anthony stopped at a coaching inn for the night.

The innkeeper greeted them warmly, showing them to a well-appointed room on the second floor.

The room was simple but comfortable with a large bed, a small fireplace, and a basin of fresh water on the dresser.

Anthony entered the room first, his expression a mask of cool detachment. Eliza followed, her heart heavy with the weight of their earlier conversation. She had hoped that the journey might offer an opportunity for them to allow their relationship to bloom, but Anthony's demeanor made it clear that was far from his mind.

Without a word, Anthony began to undress. He removed his coat and draped it over a chair then untied his cravat and placed it neatly beside the coat.

Eliza watched him, her frustration growing with each passing second. His silence was infuriating, a stark reminder of the wall he had built between them.

As Anthony removed his shoes and climbed into bed, Eliza felt a surge of anger.

He turned on his side, his back to her, as if she were nothing more than a nuisance. The coldness of his actions stung, and she could no longer hold back her words.

"Is this how it's going to be?" she asked. "You will turn your back at me?"

"Just go to sleep, Eliza. Aren't you tired?" was all he told her, his body rigid under the covers.

Eliza's anger flared, and she took a step closer to the bed.

"I am tired, but I… I thought we could…" she insisted, but her voice quickly trailed off.

Finally, Anthony sat up and turned to face her, his eyes cold and hard. "What? What is it, Eliza?"

She gulped, struggling to find the right words.

"Did you think I'd lay with you tonight, after everything that's happened?"

She inhaled sharply, startled by his directness. Frankly, she wasn't sure whether she wanted that. Maybe she did? All she knew was that she felt odd around him.

"I am tired, Eliza. Let's just sleep," he finally spoke and lied back down, his back to her again.

Eliza felt a pang of disappointment, but she masked it. "All right. Goodnight, Anthony."

"Goodnight," he mumbled back.

She turned away from him and began to undress, her movements brisk and efficient. She changed into her nightgown, her mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions; she felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of their unresolved tension.

Climbing into bed, she settled herself as far from Anthony as possible. The bed felt enormous, a vast expanse of space that mirrored the emotional chasm between them.

She laid on her side, staring at the wall, her mind replaying their conversation over and over again.

The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire in the hearth. Eliza's thoughts were a tangled mess of anger, hurt, and longing. She could not understand why Anthony was so determined to keep her at bay, especially with what he'd told her at ball, right before her aunt had arrived.

You are in my every thought, because I want you more than I can bear.

Had that all vanished now?

Eliza closed her eyes, willing herself to find some semblance of peace, but sleep was elusive. She lay awake, her mind and heart heavy with the weight of their troubled relationship.

As the hours passed, the fire in the hearth burned down to embers, casting a faint, flickering glow over the room.

Eliza's thoughts drifted, memories of their time together before the wedding mingling with her fears for the future.

She wondered if there was any hope for them, if they could find a way to bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing moment.

Early in the morning, Eliza was caught in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness.

She burrowed deeper into the covers, seeking warmth and comfort, when she felt something firm and warm against her back.

In her half-dreaming state, her body responded instinctively, pressing back against the sensation, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The friction was delicious, a slow, pleasurable burn that sent shivers down her spine.

It felt so real, so intense, as if her body was waking up to a need she had not fully acknowledged before.

She arched her back slightly, her hips moving in a rhythm that matched the pulse of desire thrumming through her veins.

A low moan slipped out, her mind still fogged with sleep, convincing her that this was just another one of those vivid dreams she'd had lately—dreams of Anthony, of the way he used to touch her, of the way he made her feel alive in a way no one else ever had.

But then, the dream shifted, and she felt a hand slide over her waist, strong fingers squeezing her gently, possessively. A soft, warm breath fanned across the nape of her neck, followed by the tender press of lips against her skin.

The sensation was intoxicating, sending a rush of heat through her body, and she could not help but murmur his name, her voice barely a whisper.

"Anthony…" she murmured, as if saying his name might break the spell and cause the dream to dissipate.

But the name escaped her lips before she could stop it, carried on a breathless sigh that conveyed her longing, her desire.

To her surprise, the sensation did not fade. Instead, the hand on her waist continued its gentle exploration.

The kisses along her neck grew more intense. Her breath quickened, her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned back into the embrace, wanting more, needing more .

The hand at her waist moved up, skimming over her ribcage before sliding back down to rest on her hip, the fingers tightening just enough to make her gasp. His lips traveled lower, finding the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.

Eliza's breathing became shallow, her thoughts scattered as she tried to hold on to the last remnants of the dream. But the sensations were overwhelming, consuming her completely, making it impossible to focus on anything but the pleasure coursing through her veins.

She reached up to touch the arm that was wrapped around her with one hand, but the other clutched the sheets as if they were the only thing grounding her in this surreal moment. Her body arched into the touch, her hips pressing back as she sought to close the gap.

"Anthony…" she breathed again, the name now a plea, her voice trembling with desire.

Her entire body was aflame, her skin sensitive to every brush of his fingers, every press of his lips. She wanted more, she wanted to feel his fingers lower, to stroke her in all her sensitive places, and to feel them deep inside?—

But at the sound of her voice, Eliza felt Anthony stiffen behind her, his breath hitching against her skin.

His sudden stillness sent a wave of unease through her, and with a sinking feeling, it dawned on her.

This was not a dream.

She turned her whole body around and faced him. Anthony's eyes swiftly snapped open, she could almost sense the moment he recognized the situation, the warmth of his embrace turning cold in an instant.

A shiver ran down her spine, not from the chill in the air, but from the way he abruptly pulled away, almost as if her touch had burned him.

She barely had time to register the loss of his warmth before he jerked back, nearly tumbling off the bed in his rush to put space between them.

"Anthony—" she started, this time more awake and aware.

He cut her off, his voice hoarse. "I did not mean to do that. I… I was still half-asleep."

Oh.

She realized that the reason he avoided her could very well be that he didn't desire her anymore. After all, why wouldn't he… continue? Back in London, he'd attempted so many times to convince her to give herself to him, yet now…

Maybe he found her undesirable, just like her aunt had said.

She tried to hide her disappointment. "It's all right," she said softly though her heart ached. "Really, it's fine."

Anthony nodded, clearly uncomfortable.

"I will, uh, give you some privacy," he said.

As he stood up, Eliza noticed his member straining against the fabric of his trousers, and her mouth watered.

Goodness , how she longed to feel him against her one more time.

Anthony hastily dressed, avoiding her gaze. "I will tell the staff to get you breakfast. After that, we're leaving."

Eliza muttered "All right," her voice laced with hurt.

He paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but then he shook his head and walked out of the room, leaving Eliza alone with her thoughts.

She lay back down, feeling so conflicted, torn between her frustration and her yearning for Anthony.

For the barrier he'd put between them seemed impossible to overcome.