Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

M ax had attended plenty of weddings in his one-and-thirty years, but he doubted he had ever heard vows hissed so venomously from a lady's lips. He would not have been surprised if Caroline had had her fingers crossed the entire time. And her mood had not improved with distance from the church, and the fateful wedding they had just endured.

She sat on the opposite side of the carriage, tucked into the corner, her arms folded across her chest as she stared sourly at the window. Rain spattered the pane, the world outside as dismal as her mood.

"The wedding breakfast will be a simple affair," Max said, clearing his throat. "A brief meal, then games in the drawing room perhaps, then I suspect everyone will leave. I hope they will, anyway."

Caroline sniffed. "No one is leaving me alone with you. I will ask my mother to reside with us for as long as I see fit."

"If you happen to have a spare Dowager House on my estate, feel free," he replied, shuddering faintly. He could not imagine having his mother-in-law under his feet all the time. A furious wife was worrisome enough.

"My mother will stay with us," Caroline spat, eyes ablaze with fury at his sarcastic remark. "It is the very least you can do."

He raised an eyebrow. "Marrying you was the most I could do." He expelled a strained breath, struggling to be kinder. "I suppose we could find a cottage for your mother on the periphery of the estate, or lodgings in the nearby town, if that would make you feel better."

"Make me feel better?" she spluttered. "Do you truly think anything can make me feel better? I awoke this morning as a nervous, but not unhappy woman. Now, I am the wife of a man I cannot stand, who cannot stand me either! It is a wonder you are not pulling your hair out!"

Max frowned at her, confused as to why she had such harsh opinions of him. As far as he was aware, he had always been polite to her. She, on the other hand, had not always been polite to him. On the night of her debut, she had been vigorously apologetic for knocking into him and making him spill claret all over his shirt. But during the ‘accidental' events that had occurred in the months afterward, she had not once apologized, making it seem as if the mishaps were his fault.

Still, he liked to think he had been civil, even then.

"I do not know you well enough to have any opinion of you. You should not make assumptions," he said, and soon realized it was the worst thing that could have tumbled from his mouth.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would start to set out rules for what I can and cannot do," she seethed. "Am I not permitted to be angry, to be sad, to be completely and utterly heartbroken for just a minute? All I have ever wanted is to marry for love. I have dreamed of it since I was a girl, and you have just taken that, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the fireplace, deeming my wants and decisions unimportant."

Max grimaced. "Lady Caroline, I?—"

"I had so very nearly escaped one miserable match of convenience," she roared on, her cheeks turning a deep shade of livid red, "and then you forced me into another. So, forgive me if I am not in a temper to be ladylike and civil. Forgive me if I am not throwing myself at your feet in gratitude. I doubt you would be too pleased if you had just had years of dreaming destroyed in an instant."

"With respect, Lady Caroline," he cut in firmly, "I am none too pleased with the situation, but instead of ranting and raving, I am doing my best to be courteous. I never wished to be married at all. But duty is duty. The moment called for me to bear the burden of responsibility, and I have done that. I am not asking for gratitude, I am not even asking for you to be happy, but I will insist on respect."

In truth, it was taking all of the willpower and discipline he possessed not to be utterly and vocally furious. Inside, he was positively boiling with rage at his brother's impulsive and careless evasion, with the fact that he had been forced to step in as always, with the sight of Caroline's scowling face and the sound of her complete ingratitude. But if he could behave with decorum, so could she.

"And where was your respect when you all but called me wanton at the Grayling Ball," she shot back.

Shock reverberated through him, shivering up his spine as he remembered that night—how she had burst into his bedchamber, looking for Dickie, and had seen him in a state of undress that no one had ever seen him in before. He had not slept a wink after she had left through the adjoining door to Anna's chamber, mortified that someone had seen him like that. Someone so pretty. Worried that, somehow, the events would reach gossiping tongues, and he would be forced to marry her to make the scandal go away.

It had been a rare relief when morning had come, and no one had spoken of it, the secret of the nighttime visit remaining a secret. So, it irked him all the more that, in the end, he had been forced to marry her anyway. Once again because of his brother.

"I was perfectly respectful," he told her. "If you think a chiding means a lack of respect, then I must wonder at the way you were raised. Perhaps, you were not scolded enough. If you had been, we might not be in this situation."

Caroline glowered at him. "I would not be surprised if you schemed this entire thing," she muttered icily. "I would not be surprised if you learned that Dickie had no intention of coming to the church, and you saw an opportunity to gain a wife without any of the work. After all, you would struggle to find a willing wife with a ‘superior' attitude like yours."

"If I had schemed this, I would not have chosen someone so prone to accidents that I am likely to be singed, with an entirely ruined wardrobe, and perhaps a broken limb or two by the time we reach our year anniversary," Max growled, his patience on the verge of snapping.

But she did not seem to notice, ranting on, "And I bet you laughed and laughed, thinking of the lesson you could teach me and the revenge you could take by making me your wife. All for a few ruined garments and a mistaken bedchamber." She turned her face away, snorting as she added, "How you managed to keep up the pretense of being the righteous hero, swooping in at the last moment to save the ruined damsel is rather impressive. Quite the feat, indeed, pretending it was duty when you were likely congratulating yourself through it?—"

He was on her side of the carriage in an instant, his hand sliding underneath her chin, turning her face back so she had no choice but to look him in the eyes. She had severed his last thread of patience, well and truly, and as he gazed down at her, fury flaring in his eyes, he had half a mind to go directly to the archbishop and demand an annulment without delay.

He could weather many things but accusing him of being deceitful instead of dutiful had pushed him too far. It was an insult to his very nature.

"Say that again," he rasped. "Look into my eyes and say that again."

He had not noticed the detailed color of her eyes before, honey-golden on the outside, darkening to a bluish-green around the black of her pupil. Flecks of brown peppered the honeyed hazel, with one freckle at the bottom of her right iris. Her lashes were long and dark, fluttering as they met his fierce gaze. And her skin was soft against his fingertips, barely possessing a single flaw.

Those unusual eyes widened, and her head moved slowly from side to side. "I… will not."

"Then, perhaps, we should not say anything. If I wished to be lashed with a forked tongue, I would search my grounds for an adder." Control came back to him as quickly as it had abandoned him, and as he drew his hand away from her face, his fingertips tingling with the sensation of her smooth skin, he rocked back onto his own side of the carriage.

If they could not say anything nice to one another, maybe it would be for the best if they said nothing at all. For the rest of their marriage, if necessary.