How to Marry a Marble Marquis(54)
“The itinerary is nearly all daytime events,” she told him, seating herself on his knee. “There’s dinner and dancing every night, of course, but after that . . . Well, we’re either supposed to retire to our beds like good little septons or else we’re meant to be wanton, I suppose. It doesn’t seem fair. Some of the couples played croquet together today. It’s a beautiful lake for rowing; that’s what I was supposed to do this afternoon. I went riding this morning with Lord Gorthund. He’s a fine rider, and he seems very . . . well, he seems very orc-like. I heard more about horses than I ever cared to. He’s pleasant enough, I suppose. If I had to marry him, I could make myself be happy, eventually, but he was not impressed with my riding skills, so I’m sure that’s no longer an option. But then, after riding, my head ached, and I was so tired, so I went to sit under a tree to rest. I fell asleep, and I missed rowing. We had to be up so bloody early this morning for breakfast, and the sun hurts my eyes. I’m supposed to be back in the room getting ready for dinner right now because it’s already that late, and I’m only just wandering back from my tree. How am I supposed to live in the daytime world, Silas? Things are so much prettier at night.”
She wasn’t sure when she had begun to cry, but it all seems so futile and hopeless. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. You ruined me, Silas. How am I supposed to go back to a life in the sun? How am I supposed to make myself be happy?”
She shuddered when his fingertips brushed the loose tendrils of her hair away from her face. “It’s alright, little moth. The moon is lovelier than the sun, and you deserve only lovely things.” He had been hard and unyielding when she arrived on the rooftop, but now he was warm and alive beneath her, his lips hot against hers. Despite her anger and hurt, she did not pull away. She loved him, and denying it was pointless.
“Would you like to join me this evening after dinner, Miss Eastwick, to row on the lake?”
The sob that broke from her was embarrassingly noisy. His arms were steady around her, his scent warm and familiar, and at the horizon, the sun had disappeared.
“I would like that very much, Lord Stride.”
Silas
When he was an adolescent, he and his brother had had a great row over whether or not he could go sailing for the night. The sea had been rough, and all evening long, great white caps had slammed into the base of the cliffs, inky black and angry. It was a dangerous sea, not one that anyone had any business traversing, not that night. But his brother was going out, and he couldn’t understand why he could not go as well.
“It’s too dangerous for you, you can’t even swim. Besides, you don’t need to know how to traverse water like this. I do.” Cadmus had always been the rational one. He favored their father, both in looks and temperament, while Silas and Maris looked like their mother. Silas had inherited her capriciousness as well, their father had been known to mutter.
“You can’t tell me what to do. If I say I want to go out on the boat with you, I’m going to. There’s no reason I can’t do anything that you’re able to —“
“Stop acting like a child, for once in your life!” His brother’s voice was hard like steel, sharp and thunderous. “You’re going to be the Marquis, Silas. You need to start acting like it. I get to go, because my life isn’t worth anything. Yours is. You don’t get to have it both ways, Silas. You don’t get to have everything you want. So either grow up and start acting like a man and get the respect you deserve, or keep acting like a child forever.”
It was a completely different situation, but he had the feeling his brother wouldn’t see it that way. He was still acting like a child. Was still trying to have it both ways. He thought he could have everything he wanted, and in the process he had lost her, the only thing that mattered.
He had no idea what the building had been used for originally. Rounded walls on one side, buttresses on the other, and arched windows of winking clear glass. It did not appear to be a chapel, nor was it a military installation. Regardless, it was far enough from the main house to serve his purposes.
His heart was heavy when he’d ascended the roof at dawn. The sight of her dancing with the other monstrous men in attendance had been a lance to his heart, not as stony as he had originally thought it to be, but nothing could have prepared him for her words, for her bitter hurt and anger, and the part — her tears, and knowledge that he was the reason. She was going horseback riding that day, from the sound of it. Horseback riding and rowing and croquet and whatever other frivolous nonsense they did in the sunshine. Most importantly, Silas thought despondently, she would be doing it without him.
He thought about that night, how he knew what he felt, and instead of facing it like the lord he was supposed to be, he had run from it like the child he was, hurting her in the process. He no longer wanted to fake his own death and run off to play pirates with his brother. He wanted someone to actually push him from the roof. Let Maris have the title; she would do a better job with it anyhow. Let his marble body shatter and splinter, for he would never be good for anything ever again if he could not be good for her.
No. That was more than he deserved. That was still running away, still acting like a child, still leaving everyone else in his life to make accommodations for him, to pick up the pieces, and fix what he had broken. He needed to accept whatever decision she would make. He needed to go home and face his future, retire his rakish ways, and give his poor sister some peace, once and for all.