“Caroline? Good God, what's happened? Are you alright?”
She blinked rapidly, the familiar voice and concerned face swimming into focus through the haze of her misery. “Edward,” she croaked, swiping impatiently at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “I'm sorry, I didn't see you.”
He took a step closer, his brow furrowed with worry. “You're clearly upset. What's wrong? Has something happened with Sebastian?”
At the mention of her husband's name, Caroline felt a fresh wave of pain and uncertainty wash over her. Beatrice's cruel predictions about the inevitability of Sebastian's infidelity and emotional distance rang in her ears, insidious whispers of doubt that she couldn't quite shake.
“No, no, it's not Sebastian,” she said quickly, averting her gaze. “I just... I went to see Beatrice, hoping to reconcile, but she... she hasn't forgiven me. I fear she never will.”
Edward's expression softened, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. “I'm sorry, Caroline. That must be incredibly difficult, to be at odds with your sister like this.”
She nodded miserably, fresh tears threatening to spill. “It is. I never meant to hurt her, Edward. I was only trying to do what was best, to protect our family from scandal. But she refuses to see that.”
He reached out, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “She's hurting, Caroline. It's understandable that she lashes out, even if it's not entirely fair to you.”
Caroline looked up at him, surprised by the sudden warmth and understanding in his tone. Perhaps she had misjudged him, had been too quick to dismiss his affections as mere infatuation and prideful presumption.
“I just don't know what to do,” she confessed softly. “I feel so lost, so torn between my duty to my husband and my love for my sister.”
Edward's fingers tightened on her shoulder, his gaze intense and searching. “And what of your duty to yourself, Caroline? Your own heart and happiness?”
She frowned, taken aback by the question. “I... I am happy, Edward. Truly. Sebastian is a good man, a kind and generous husband. I could not ask for more.”
His lips thinned, a flicker of frustration passing over his face. “But do you love him, Caroline? Does he love you? Because from where I stand, it seems that you've trapped yourself in a marriage of convenience, sacrificing your own chance at real, passionate love for the sake of appearances.”
Caroline stiffened, pulling back from his touch as if scalded. “You overstep, Edward,” she said coldly, pursing her lips. “My feelings for Sebastian are none of your concern.”
“But they are!” he insisted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. “Caroline, surely you must know how I feel about you, how I've always felt. I love you, deeply and truly. I would move heaven and earth to make you happy, to give you the life you deserve. Can you honestly say the same of Sebastian? Can you tell me that he would put your happiness above all else, that he would cherish you as I would?”
Caroline shook her head, anger and confusion warring in her breast. “Stop it, Edward. Please. I can't hear this, I won't. I am a married woman, and whatever feelings you may have for me, it is not right for you to speak of them. Not now, not ever.”
He looked as if she had struck him, pain and frustration etched into every line of his face.
“It would seem that your sister was right after all,” he said quietly, an undercurrent of bitterness in his voice. “You are a fool, Caroline. A fool to think that Sebastian Fairchild could ever love you the way I do. He married you out of duty, not affection, and mark my words, it won't be long before he seeks his pleasures elsewhere, leaving you alone and heartbroken.”
Caroline recoiled as if slapped, her eyes widening with shock. She wanted to scream at him, to rage and deny and demand he take back his hateful words. But the fight drained out of her, leaving only a bone-deep weariness and sorrow in its wake.
“Goodbye, Edward,” she whispered, her voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion. “I am going home. My place is with my husband, and that is where I intend to stay.”
She turned away, not waiting for his response. With leaden steps and a heavy heart, she began the long walk back to Casterbridge Manor, back to the man she called husband, praying that the love she felt blossoming in her heart was not the foolish fancy everyone seemed to believe it to be.
***
Sebastian relaxed into the plush armchair, savoring the rich aroma of the fine brandy as he swirled it contemplatively in its glass. Across from him, Nathaniel lounged with a languid grace, a roguish grin playing about his lips.
“I must say, Bas, married life seems to agree with you,” he teased, arching a knowing brow. “You've got that particular glow about you, the kind that only comes from regular, enthusiastic bed sport.”
Despite the wave of irritation that flared up within him for a split second, Sebastian managed to laugh and he shook his head. “Could you not? That is my wife, not merely some paramour warming my bed for a day or two.”
Nathaniel held up his hands in mock surrender, his eyes dancing with mirth. “I meant no offense, truly. I'm merely happy to see you so content, so...settled. It suits you, my friend.”
Sebastian felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, a warmth that had nothing to do with the brandy spreading through his chest. “Caroline is... remarkable,” he admitted softly, his gaze going distant as he thought of his lovely, spirited bride. “She has exceeded my every expectation as a wife.
“Oh?” Nathaniel lifted a brow, a smirk appearing around is lips. “Is your bright not the innocent maiden you’d expected her to be?”
“She is,” Sebastian said carefully, hesitant to say too much. “But she is quite… willing to learn.”
Nathaniel let out a laugh at this, though his eyes turned serious when he looked at his friend. “You sound happy,” he asserted then. “And I'm glad of it. You deserve to be happy, Bas. And it's high time you put your rakish ways behind you and started building a true partnership with a woman worthy of you.”
