Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

T hey lay on the sofa together, wrapped in one another’s arms. With the vigor and intensity of what had just happened behind them, it might have looked to anyone watching that things had finally returned to normal. And in a way, they had. The anger was behind them. What needed to be said had been said. It was a perfect chance for the two to move forward, and yet…

The silence gave Frederick a chance to consider and contemplate what had just happened and what it might mean. Not the fight, not the insults. Rather, it was the action that haunted him, and what it might mean going forward.

He had finished inside Hannah for the first time, something which he swore he would not do. For all his talk of not wanting to touch her, it was but a symptom of a larger cause. Touching meant closeness, which would lead to love, which would inevitably lead to what had just happened. A normal enough affair for a husband and wife, but in Frederick’s mind, it was cataclysmic.

He shifted uncomfortably—Hannah’s head rested on his chest—as if trying to separate himself from her without actually doing so. He loved the feel of her body against his, the sound of her breathing, the scent of her hair. He knew deep down that he was happy and that there was no need to feel what he was feeling. But still, he could not escape the feeling that he had done something wrong.

Hannah must have felt him tense up, for she shifted and sat up to look at him, her expression etched with concern.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he responded simply.

“You seem tense, is all.”

“I am not.”

“Is it the sofa? We can move to our bedroom if you would prefer? It is a little snug here.” She laughed.

“No, the sofa is fine.”

Her brow furrowed as she studied him, knowing something was wrong but not knowing whether she should push or not.

“All right…” Slowly, she settled back down on his chest. “Just making sure.”

There was something wrong. Yes, what they had hurled at each other in the heat of anger might have been exaggerated, but there was truth behind it still. An indication of Hannah’s true feelings and what she expected from this marriage. Only spoken about once, back when they had both agreed that this marriage was purely one of convenience, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Frederick wondered if he should do just that, to see how long he could go on pretending. Or if he should bring it up now and then strike it down so that there would be no confusion.

The guilt roiled inside him. But a voice in the back of his head cried for him to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the moment. But unfortunately, and ironically, his feelings for Hannah meant that he could not. She needed to know how he felt, and it really was that simple.

“Hannah,” he began awkwardly. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything. You know that.”

“We have spoken of it once before but have not touched on the topic since. And with what just happened…” He exhaled. “I think we must revisit it again.”

“All right…”

He could feel her tense up as she lay on top of him, bracing herself for what she knew would not be a pleasant conversation.

“It is about…” He took a deep, calming breath. “It is about starting a family.”

A beat as she registered his meaning. “Oh?”

“I told you weeks ago, when this marriage was first arranged, that I had no interest in starting a family. And at the time, you said that you were of the same mind. I just want to confirm that…” He clicked his tongue, for no matter how he said it, it would not come out right. “That you still feel the same way. That you have no interest in starting a family.”

As expected, she did not answer right away. In fact, he could feel her pull away slightly. Confusion, she must be feeling, for what had just happened suggested the very opposite of what he had just said. But then again, that was why he felt the need to bring it up.

“I…” She hesitated. “I am not sure.”

It sounded like a lie, said to appease him.

“So, the fact that I have no interest in starting a family with you does not upset you? You are perfectly at ease with such an arrangement?”

“I would not say that I am at ease.”

“So, you do wish to start a family?”

“Well…” She clicked her tongue. “It is not that simple.”

“It should be. It is a yes or no answer, is it not? You either do or you do not.”

She pushed herself up again and looked at him, the expression on her face betraying her inner conflict. “When we first spoke about this, I did not consider starting a family with you. And I was fine with that…” An awkward chuckle. “You may remember that when we had that conversation, you had just told me that you would never touch me.”

“I remember.”

“So…” Another awkward chuckle. “There was no reason for me to think that it would ever be a problem. But things have changed since then.”

“Some things have,” he agreed carefully, making sure to not look away from her. He needed to be strong in this, give no sense that he was hesitant. “But my opinion on this has not changed.”

“That is what you said about the touching.” She tried for a coy smile, but it fell at his somber expression.

This was not a personal slight against her, and she needed to know that.

“That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “My refusal to touch you… that was never personal?—”

“So, this is?” She leaned back as if he had struck her.

“No,” he said quickly, half-moving as if to comfort her, but stopping himself because he needed to stay strong and emotionless. “My meaning is, I opted for a marriage of convenience specifically because I did not wish to start a family. As you well know, marriages among our class are arranged almost exclusively to produce heirs, and I wanted to make sure it was known that there would be no such expectation in our marriage.”

“By refusing to touch me?”

“It seemed the safest course.”

“And now that you have touched me…” she trailed off, looking away as if ashamed.

Again, he made to reach for her but then held back.

“This marriage has grown into something that even I could not have foreseen, and I need you to know that I do not regret anything that has happened between us. I relish it, in fact.”

She scoffed softly. “That is lovely to hear.”

“What I wanted was a mother for Amelia, a role model, and you are that. The fact that the two of you had bonded the way you have is everything I could have hoped for. I could not be happier about it. However…” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “When it comes to starting a family of our own, that is an option I cannot consider.”

“And an heir?” she asked, still not looking at him. “What about your need to produce an heir?”

“I have already decided that my brother, William, will be my heir.”

“It seems you have thought of everything,” she said coldly, shifting further down the sofa and away from him.

Frederick hated that he had to have this conversation right here and now, but he felt it was the right move. With how upset Hannah was, it was best to get it out of the way and pray that she not only forgave him but was able to see his side. That she might accept it.

“You are upset…” He reached for her, and she moved out of the way.

“What do you think?”

“I did tell you from the beginning that this was how things would be, remember? I never lied to you.”

“And that is supposed to make me feel better?”

“It is simply a fact.”

“Yes, well,” she scoffed. “I will remind myself of that each time I am forced to remember that you have no desire to start a family with me. Hopefully, it will keep me warm.”

He frowned. “So, you do wish to start a family?”

“I did not—” She stopped and took a deep breath to gather herself. “The truth is that up until a week ago, I did not even consider it an option. The way that we were with one another…” She scoffed. “Why would I? But this last week, Frederick…” She turned and looked at him, sadness plain on her face. “Everything has changed. I know that this marriage has grown into something that we did not foresee, and a part of me was hoping that we would grow with it.”

“We will…” He sat up now, wanting to reach for her still. But he knew if he did that, he would be at her mercy, for he needed to keep his emotions in check if he was to get through this. “There is no reason we cannot. The fact that we are here right now…” He indicated their naked state on the sofa. “Does that not tell you how far we have come?”

“And it is as far as we will come,” she insisted. “For what else is there after this? If not a child, then what?”

“We have Amelia.”

She grimaced. “And I love her, I do. Only… well, she is your daughter, not mine.”

That hit Frederick a little harder than he had expected. He leaned back, taken by surprise, his cool fa?ade dropping instantly. While it might not have been that shocking of a comment, it was a little too real, speaking to the true nature of what this marriage really was.

“She is our daughter,” he said coldly.

“And would she not like a brother or another sister? Would that not be unfair to her?”

“Do not use Amelia as a bargaining chip. This is not about her.”

“You are the one who has made it as such,” she shot back, her anger rising again. “You are the one who has made this… this rule, with her at the center.”

“This has nothing to do with Amelia.”

“What, then?” She fixed him with a glare. “Since the day you told me of your… your ridiculous rule, what you have not done is provided me with a reason why.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, tell me, why? Why do you not wish to start a family with me? Give me a good reason.”

Frederick’s lip twitched again, his anger returning. “It is not so simple to explain.”

“It is,” she snarled. “You just don’t want to. Either that or you don’t care to. Whatever it is, the result is the same.”

“You won’t understand.”

“Better that than having nothing to understand at all. Tell me, Frederick. Make me understand.” Her expression softened, and her eyes turned pleading. “Please. After everything we have been through, I have a right to know.”

How could he possibly explain it? How could he make her see? The reason for all of this, it brought back memories that had Frederick wanting to stand up and storm out of the room, grab a chair and throw it against the wall.

A worse memory he could not imagine, a worse time in his life he could not fathom to have existed. It made him feel pathetic and weak in ways he did not enjoy, and the idea of explaining it to Hannah, of putting himself out there like that…

But he had to tell her, he had no other option. He just prayed it would be enough and that she would not judge him for it.

“You wish to know the reason?” he asked, looking down as if from shame.

“Tell me.” She took his hand and held it to her chest. “Please. If there is a reason, I must know it.”

He breathed in deeply to calm his racing heart, to stop himself from shaking and sweating. This was not a conversation he wished to have but one that had to happen.

“As you know,” he began solemnly, his voice soft with regret. “I was married once before. It was a marriage arranged by my father, a man who I would have done anything for. Raised as I was, I knew my role in the family and was happy to take it.” He scoffed bitterly. “As ridiculous as it now sounds, I was proud to do it. I even thought”—his stomach churned—“that despite not knowing the woman whom I was set to wed, we might learn to love one another with time.”

Hannah did not speak, even though he could see the obvious question on her lips. Did you? she wished to ask. Learn to love one another?

“Typically, my wife did not wish to marry me either. But while I had made my peace with it, willing to do what it took to make the marriage work, she was the opposite in every regard. She hated me…” The words tumbled off his tongue like poison. “Reviled me. Wished me dead.”

“I am sure that is not true…”

He chuckled bitterly. “I have always been a cold man. Not by choice, but it is simply my way. And while I tried not to be that with her, she treated me as if I were a stranger in my own home. It made it impossible to forge any sort of bond until, eventually, the two of us stopped talking. We would stand in the same room and simply pretend the other did not exist…”

His stomach churned as memories from a time he wished to forget flashed in his mind.

“But Amelia…?”

“My wife knew her duty, and we lay together until she fell pregnant. Funny that I thought once Amelia was born, things might change, that she might see that there was a chance at happiness with me. But she died in childbirth, and we were never given that chance.”

“Oh, Frederick…” Hannah shifted closed to him and kissed his hand. “I am so sorry.”

That wasn’t the end of the story. There was one more chapter, the one that still haunted Frederick to this day—the true reason for his pledge to never love again, to never touch the woman he married, to keep his distance because it felt safest.

“As my wife lay dying,” he continued, his voice dropping, darkness seeming to envelop the room, “she did say one thing to me. Barely conscious, barely alive, she made sure to say one last thing so that there would be no mistaking how she felt.”

Hannah hesitated. “What… what did she say.”

“That she hated me,” Frederick sighed. “She told me that she hated me and that she always had. Our daughter had been born for less than a minute, and rather than asking to see her, she made sure to tell me that.” His lip curled. “From the moment we met to the moment she was taken from this world, she despised me to my core, and for that reason…” he trailed off as the pain began to roll over him.

Hannah did not speak at first. Still holding his hand. Still looking at him. She pondered the story he had just told, caught between wanting to comfort him further and press him for more details.

And even before she spoke, he knew what was coming, and he hated it.

“That it awful,” Hannah said. “Truly, I cannot even imagine…” She sniffed and kissed his hand again. “But, Frederick, I do understand why you might not want anything from this marriage —I do. But surely, now you can see that our situation is not the same.” A soft chuckle. “I do not hate you. I certainly do not despise you. And if we were to have a child together, I know that it would only bring us closer together. You must see that.”

He did. On the face of it, everything she said made sense. But for six years now, Frederick had lived with the burden of trapping a woman in a loveless marriage, forcing her to conceive a child, and then watching as she died. For six years, he had felt guilt for what had happened, swearing that if he was to marry again, he would not burden his new wife with the same expectation. That his marriage would be one of convenience, giving her the freedom to have the life that his previous wife never had.

“I know,” he spoke into his chest, looking down because he could not bring himself to look at Hannah.

“Then why…?”

“As I said, it is not so easy to explain.”

“But you have explained it,” Hannah pressed. “And while I understand your initial reservations, I am not your ex-wife. I want this, and…” She hesitated. “I think you want it, too.”

He shook his head. “And I told you, I cannot.”

“But why ?”

He had no answer to that. None that made sense. Guilt that he could not explain. A feeling that if he was to have a child with Hannah, it would be the beginning of the end for them. A promise he had made that he refused to break. Perhaps from stubbornness? Perhaps from superstition? Or perhaps because he was just scared.

“I have told you why…” Slowly, he pulled away from her and rose from the sofa.

“Frederick—” She went to take his hand.

“Please!” He pulled it away, still turned away from her. “This is not about you, Hannah. I told you from the beginning what I wanted, and…” His body was shaking. “And my hope was—is… I hope that you can respect my wish.”

He then forced himself to take a final look at her, seeing the pain on her face, wincing because it hurt him as much as it did her.

He knew it made no sense. He knew that he should have sat and spoken with her, made her see, or at least given himself a chance to see her side. But Frederick had always been stubborn, and with the memories of his past marriage crashing over him like waves, he felt as if he was about to fall into a bottomless pit from which he would never return.

He grabbed a blanket, covered himself, and stumbled out of the room. When he reached the door, he gave Hannah a final pleading, regretful look. If he walked out the door right now, he knew that to come back would be near impossible, that she might never forgive him, that he would only be doing to this marriage what he had done to the last…

But he walked out anyway.

This marriage was only ever meant to be for convenience, and now, it seemed, that is what it had become once more.