Chapter Twenty-One – The Nature of a Marriage
After three days of evading his wife, Tristan had to get out of the house.
Although she kept her distance and did not make any blunt advances herself, the way she looked at him, the slow curl of her lips when their eyes met as well as the scent that clung to her skin and wafted toward him whenever she was near drove him nearly mad.
While his heart−and his body, for that matter−clearly encouraged him to believe her, his mind could not be swayed so easily. Although her words made sense, Tristan could not rid himself of the image of his uncle’s disappointed frown. Again and again, he heard the man’s words echo in his mind, reminding him that she merely sought to secure her own position in life, her only interest to conceive an heir.
Had he already fathered a child on their wedding night?
Cursing under his breath, Tristan walked down the pavement, his eyes barely taking note of his surroundings as his mind berated him for his weakness. He should never have given in. He should have kept his distance as his uncle had advised. He should have insisted she retire to Hampton Hall.
And yet, he had not.
But why?
Well, she was stubborn and rather insistent and…quite outspoken. There was no denying that. And yet, Tristan knew deep down that that had not been the reason at all.
Despite everything that had happened, despite his doubts, he did not truly wish for her to go.
Remembering the feel of her body pressed against his, her soft lips moving under his as he held her in his arms, Tristan groaned, his feet slowing as though of their own accord, urging him to turn around and head back home…to her.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, forcing the memory from his mind. If he wanted to remain steadfast, then he needed to be reminded of who she truly was, and there was no better man to accomplish the task than his uncle.
Slightly cringing at what lay ahead of him, Tristan directed his steps toward his uncle’s townhouse, forcing himself to climb the front stoop and ask to be received. Upon leaving this house, he knew he would feel like the lowest of all creatures. After all, it was what his uncle did best. Still, he had to hear the truth for Beth’s professed innocence and truthfulness could only be a charade, could it not?
Looking up from his desk, his uncle bade him to sit as he returned his attention to the paper before him, his hand quickly moving over the page, the soft scrape of quill tip on paper the only sound in the room.
Tristan drew in a fortifying breath and then took the offered seat, watching his uncle’s earnest face as he concentrated on whatever business currently required his attention. As far as Tristan could remember, his uncle had always been the one to handle the family fortune. More often than he could count, the man lamented about his brother’s inability to handle money, loudly voicing his concern that Tristan was no better and, if left to his own devices, would squander away their means within a few short years.
Although understanding his uncle’s concern given their family history, Tristan had always felt unjustly punished for something he himself had never done. Over time the line between him and his father had slowly begun to blur until his father’s misdeeds and shortcomings were almost considered his own.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” his uncle observed, and Tristan blinked, noting that his uncle had set aside quill and paper and was now looking at him across the table, his hands folded before him. “Is something the matter? Is everything going according to plan?”
“Well, …” Tristan began, trying to choose his words carefully. Although he knew what he needed to hear, he dreaded the lecture which he was certain would come.
At his hesitation, his uncle’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do now? Did you send her to Hampton Hall?”
Tristan drew in a deep breath. “I did suggest to her that−”
“Suggest?” his uncle bit out, his eyes going wide as he began to shake his head in disbelief. “You suggested? Dear Boy, can you do NOTHING right? She is your wife. You do not suggest. You tell her what to do and demand she comply with your every wish. Do you not understand what marriage is?”
Tristan sighed. Although he had never wanted a marriage like his uncle’s, he very well knew that most men considered their wives an extension of themselves and thus expected them to obey their every word. “She said she came to London for a reason and does not wish to leave until−”
“Of course, she did!” Groaning, his uncle pushed himself to his feet, his hands resting on the table top as he leant forward, a snarl on his face. “Her objective was to find a well-bred husband, preferably a foolish one, and to conceive an heir to solidify her position.” His uncle’s eyes narrowed as he regarded him. “You were not foolish enough to share her bed, were you?”
Tristan swallowed, then met his uncle’s eyes. “I do not believe that is any of your business.”
Cursing under his breath, his uncle picked up the cup of tea on the side of his desk and hurled it at the wall where it shattered into pieces, the brown liquid staining the wallpaper.
Startled, Tristan stared at his uncle, unable to fathom why the man would be this upset.
“You’re worse than your father!” his uncle snarled, his face contorted into a grotesque mask. “You cannot even control your own wife! At least, your father knew how to handle his wife although it was the only thing he knew how to do.”
As always, Tristan’s insides constricted as turmoil rolled through his body in waves of pain and guilt and shame. His muscles tensed as something deep down urged him to defend himself, and yet, Tristan could not. Years of learning to endure his uncle’s accusations had made it impossible for him to do anything but bow his head.
“This has to stop now!” his uncle demanded, his narrowed eyes fixed on Tristan. “You will return home and see to it that she is moved to Hampton Hall immediately. Do you understand?”
Lifting his head, Tristan got to his feet, feeling a touch of satisfaction as his uncle had to crane his neck in to hold his gaze. “Why does it matter so much to you whether my wife conceives an heir now or a year from now? Have you not always emphasised the need to continue the line to keep the title and estate within the family?”
His uncle turned dark red. “If you had chosen a suitable bride, I would not have had any objections,” he snarled before sinking back into his armchair. “However, you chose to marry a maid.” A hint of disgust on his face, his uncle shook his head. “Any heir she can provide will be a disgrace to this family.”
As a frown drew down his brows, Tristan stepped closer. “Are you saying I should not father an heir at all?”
“Of course not!” his uncle snapped. “However, I suggest you allow some time to pass so that the circumstances of your marriage as well as your wife’s background are not so prominently on everyone’s mind when your son is born. I assure you he will suffer for it even worse than you. Do you truly want that for him?”
As his heart twisted in his chest, Tristan knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that his uncle was right. After all that he had suffered from his father’s misconducts, his standing in society, Tristan knew that he did not want that for his own child. He did not want his son to be eyed with derision, to be whispered about behind his back and to feel ashamed for whom he was. How could he not have thought of that? Tristan wondered as he left his uncle’s house. How could he not have considered the child after his own miserable experience?
Dreading every step he took, Tristan reluctantly allowed his feet to carry him homeward. He knew what he had to do, and yet, he doubted that he could. For his wife had a unique way of distracting him, and he feared that he was no match for her stubbornness. After all, despite everything he had realised that afternoon, he still did not want her to leave.
And yet, he ought to insist she leave because who knew what would happen in the future. If his own mind slowly succumbed to the madness that had driven his father to murdering his own wife, maybe it would truly be for the best if she was far away from him.
Safe.
If only he could make her understand!