“If you would be so kind as to direct me to my sleeping quarters, I will get ready for bed,” she said. The stubborn tilt of her chin challenged Marcus to refute her words, and refute them he did.
“You will not,” he said, looking aghast that she would dare suggest such a thing. Releasing his death grip on the chair he began to pace the floor back and forth in front of the fireplace. The flames licked out to highlight the blackness of his hair and the rugged perfection of his profile and it was all Catherine could do not to gaze at him in wordless longing. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to turn away, yanking off her ruined bonnet and crumpling it in her hand as she did so. If only Marcus had grown unfit and fat with age, but alas he still looked every inch the virile man she had first been attracted to. It had been his handsomeness that had caught her attention in the first place, back when she was a na?ve girl of seventeen and he a romantic young man of twenty two. He had never looked more beautiful than when she was curled on his lap gazing up at his face, studying the contours of his high cheekbones and the surprisingly soft curve of his lips as he read her Shakespeare or recited poetry.
Now he was more brooding than beautiful and the years had made his face harsher than she ever imagined it could be. His lips no longer smiled and the soft glow that used to enter his eyes whenever he saw her had long ago been extinguished.
Why could he not see that she simply could not bear it? Could not bear the contempt and dislike that hardened his features every time he looked at her, when before they had softened with love and happiness. A divorce between them would be a blessing, not a curse, and a new sense of determination swept through her as she thought of the long lonely nights she had spent by herself since he left.
She deserved to find love again. She was still young, still beautiful. She wanted children. A family. She longed to yearn for someone as she had once yearned for Marcus and he for her. Desperately. Endlessly. Passionately. She had so much passion inside of her just waiting to get out. No, she would not leave. She could not, not until what she had come here to see accomplished was done and over with. Squaring her shoulders, she spun on her heel to face him.
“I am not leaving, Marcus. Not until you sign the papers and give me what I want.” She lifted her chin and stared him down with all the bearing of a queen despite her wet, mud splattered clothes and tangled hair.
“Well, you are not staying here!” Marcus turned from the fire to fix her with an icy glare, every muscle in his body tensed and ready for a fight.
Catherine glared right back. Her husband’s intimidation tactics had stopped working on her long ago. He had raised his voice to her countless times before in anger but he had never resorted to physical violence, and she was confidant he never would. Her jaw hardened as she clenched her teeth. He would not be able to send her scampering out of the room this time. This time she would have her way, her husband be damned.
“You would send your wife back out in this weather?” she asked, gesturing towards the front windows where the rain continued to pound and lash against the glass. “That would be in poor taste, Marcus, even for you. But if I was no longer your wife…” She gave the idea time to sink and settle before pressing on. “Well then certainly you would have every right to turn me out.” Holding her breath, she waited for his answer. Catherine did not want to suffer the elements, but if it meant being free of her husband once and for all she would suffer nearly everything.
Marcus rubbed his faintly stubbled chin and stared back into the flames, his expression shuttered. “Is this truly what you want, Catherine?”
“Yes! Oh, yes it is, Marcus. We are not good together,” she cried, wringing her hands. “Can you not see that? We are not happy anymore. We have not been happy in a long time.”
A bitter smile twisted his mouth. “Is that what a marriage is supposed to be? Happy? I believe ours is quite conventional by the Ton’s standards, do you not agree?”
“NO!” she burst out, surprising them both with the sheer intensity of her voice. Marcus’ eyes widened and he actually took a step back. “No,” she repeated more quietly, taking a deep breath to compose herself. It wouldn’t do to lose her temper now. Her heart beat like the wings of a tiny songbird, fluttery and quick, as if her entire body could sense that which she so desired was nearly in her grasp. Throwing pride to the wind, she clasped her hands in front of her in a pleading gesture and gazed at him beseechingly. “If you ever loved me at all you will do this for me Marcus. Please. Please. It is for the best.”