He’d never claimed to love her, though he’d courted her over the course of a week. He’d vowed to take care of her and her family, and it had been enough. But oh, she had hoped for more. She’d wanted him to love her, wanted to bring back the heady excitement from their adolescence.

It hadn’t happened. Even after the brief ceremony was done, she’d noticed his distractedness. After another week, he’d returned to London, claiming he would find Daniel and bring him home.

Stephen closed the door behind her. “Sit down.”

But the only place to sit was upon his bed. She wasn’t about to let that happen. “I’ll stand.”

“I owe you an apology,” he began. “I accused you of lying. But you were right about our marriage.”

She didn’t answer, her heart still uneasy at the thought of what he would do. Maybe the reason why he’d wanted to speak to her alone was to discuss ending their union.

“Did you remember anything about it?” she asked.

“No.” He neared her, resting a hand upon the wall. Emily forced herself not to move away, to let him say what he wanted. “But I don’t know if we should remain together. It isn’t fair to you.”

She lowered her gaze, feeling so terribly alone. She wouldn’t beg. No matter what happened.

“Say something, Emily.”

“What do you want me to say? That I never should have married you? That I was foolish to follow my heart instead of understanding that this was nothing but an arrangement?” A tear broke free, and she pushed it away, furious with herself.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

She wanted to strike out at something, to release the hot anger at herself. “I know it.”

He reached out to touch her shoulder. The gentle brush of his hand brought shivers to her flesh. It was meant to bring comfort, nothing else. She could smell his shaving soap, and a part of her wanted him to draw nearer. Another part chided her for her weakness. He doesn’t want you.

But she found herself saying, “We should begin again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we don’t even know each other. You’re already wanting to end a marriage that never started.”

Her words silenced him. He didn’t respond, seemingly turning over her suggestion in his mind. The opportunity was here, laid bare.

She took a step forward. Then another, until she stood so close, they were almost in an embrace. He reached out and took her hands in his. “Come with me tonight, then. My family was invited to the Yarrington musicale.”

The very thought of entering society as a countess made her knees tremble. She couldn’t. The marquess and society would cut her to shreds.

“I—I can’t go.” She fumbled for an excuse. He would never understand her fears. “It isn’t proper for me to attend a public gathering. I’m still in half-mourning.”

“You’re hiding.”