“I am telling you, Charles. I would not put it past her.” Weston said, his voice eagerly firm. He was in the busiest part of town with his friend, and they gently walked among the locals, looking for places to secure their horses. To Weston, this place was less suffocating than back home. For now, here, as he trudged down these dirt paths, he didn't have to endure excruciating dinners. He didn't have to deal with some snide remark from his mother or some cheery comment from his sister.
He didn't have to look at his wife.
He felt the hot afternoon air on his face and relished as much of it as he possibly could. Charles was only a few yards behind him, also casually looking around for a place where they could tie their horses.
“Pardon me, I may get this wrong.” Charles said, feeling the gears of his head turn. “She sneaked out of the hall duringthe spring masquerade ball and went to sit in the gardens all by herself.Youheard her crying.Youwalked to where she was.Yousat with her, and somehow, you think she was happy to be caught up in a scandal with you? Again, I apologise if I made some misconception.”
Weston rolled his eyes at his friend's profound sarcasm. “Not the scandal. The wedding. I cannot help but feel like this whole thing was a plan for her to entrap a gentleman in her snare. This marriage is an unwanted sense of duty. None of us should be enjoying it. I think she is.”
“Because she asked to speak with you before leaving the manor for town?” Charles asked, a puzzled expression growing on his face.
“It is not so much as the fact that she asked but rather the tone in which she asked. She was giddy. Excited. I could swear I saw her even smile once.”
“God forbid a woman married to you isn't miserable for the rest of her life.” Charles sneered.
Weston turned to look at him, his lips pursed. “This is not a joke, Charles.”
“It is. And you are making it.” Charles replied. They were now on the other end of the busy street. While people still passed them by occasionally, they weren't as numerous as when they were in the midst of it.
“Your wife, in case you have forgotten that, by the way, is obviously only trying to make the best of a bad situation. Doyou think, if presented with options, she would pick this? You know Lady Beatrice wasn't exactly welcoming to her. This was a marriage of duty, and she wasn't the one your mother was eyeing for you in the first place.”
“Charles—”
“She is lost and alone, Weston.”
“I understand that—”
“Clearly, you do not. Three days. She has been in Estfield for three days, and you would rather shoot darts than talk to her. You would rather do anything, really. She is your wife. You are supposed to be the one person she could talk to.”
“I do not know what we are going to talk about.”
“You wanted to talk plenty at the ball that fateful night, didn't you?”
Weston shook his head. Charles was always honest with him. Sometimes, he was too honest that it hurt some part of him. He had brought up the fateful ball that would be the catalyst of Juliet and him getting married, two times now. While he was not exactly wrong in his analysis, he was a bit too blunt for him.”
Perhaps it was what he needed. With the facts laid bare before him, he couldn't believe he thought for a moment that Lady Juliet was secretly reveling in the fact that she got to tie down a gentleman like him. He sighed. Maybe he was trying to find a way out of this marriage by blaming the poor girl. The one also caught up in the same situation as he was.
“She is alone, Weston.” He heard Charles continue. “She has no one to talk to at Estfield. I know she has her handmaid, but there is only so much companionship she could provide because, you know why?”
Weston nodded negatively.
“She is not her husband.” Charles said, his voice solidly firm.
Weston continued to think over his friend's words. Perhaps he had been a bit too hard on his wife. Charles was right. He was going to have to talk to her sooner or later. It was better for him to do it now while she still had a bit of spirit in her. He remembered the slight conversation they had on their way from the chapel. He remembered the specific words he said to her after they had talked about their interests.
“We are already finding something in common, wouldn't you say?”
He might have judged his wife a bit too harshly.
“You are right.” He muttered out loud for Charles to hear.
“Of course I am. I am smarter than you.”
“Pray, speak no further on the matter.” Weston replied.
As they walked down a now empty path with either side filled with dry, windy fields, he couldn't help but wonder if he was betraying Eliza once more.
He would talk to Lady Juliet, but that would be the height of it. He had known love, and he had lost it. He was not ready to have his heart broken again. Walls of insincerity had been built around his heart. No one could make him fall in love again.
