The Perfect Arrangement (The Not So Saintly Sisters #4) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,44

gown and Becky had styled her hair into an unusually artful coiffure. Staring into the mirror, she inhaled a deep breath but then jumped when a knock sounded from the adjoining door.

He rarely sought her out in her chamber during the day and she felt oddly self-conscious.

“Come in!” The door swung open and he stepped inside. Dressed formally in a black woolen jacket, an evergreen waistcoat and a pristine linen shirt, he nearly stole her breath. His cravat had been tied pleasingly, his shoes were buffed and shined, and the trousers he wore could not have fit him any more perfectly. He seemed to have become even more handsome with each passing day. Her heart squeezed as he pushed his spectacles up and tentatively crossed the room.

“Turn around.” He requested.

When she did as he asked, she saw her own reflection. He stared at something in his hands, and then lifted his gaze to meet hers.

When he touched her shoulders, and then dropped a cool chain around her neck, a shiver rolled through her.

“Are you cold?” His voice sounded above her ear. But she could only shake her head in answer.

A diamond pendant rested at the top of the vee of her cleavage, sparkling with promise.

“It’s beyond beautiful. But not necessary.”

He met her eyes in the mirror. “You are beautiful, and I wanted to.”

It was an apology, she knew. But she didn’t want an apology. She wanted…

“I’m sorry,” He gave her a week smile before removing his spectacles and then running one hand down his face. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

He appeared nearly as miserable as she felt.

All of this was far more complicated than it ought to have been. She knew he wasn’t intentionally making things difficult, but she couldn’t help but be frustrated.

During the night hours, in the darkness, his touch was as familiar as her own. In the light of day, they tiptoed around one another, fearful that their words might be hurtful in some way––fearful of being hurt in return.

His gaze slid from her eyes to her bosom and then back up. He shook his head and blinked. “After you conceive, I think it might be best if you took Bernadette to Winter’s Edge.”

He’d hurt her before by suggesting they seek an annulment, and now he had done it again. Only this time it was worse. Much worse. This was something they ought to have discussed with one another. She’d married him, ironically enough, so that she would not live her life bending to her husband’s will.

“We can discuss it, if you wish.” She hardened her voice. “But I will make such a decision on my own.

They could not go on like this, but parting from one another was not the answer Lillian had hoped for. She turned to face him directly but then dropped her gaze and stared at his polished shoes.

“Bernadette is waiting downstairs by now. She will be happy to see her brother, the one who cares so much for her that he married a stranger.”

Her words came out sounding cold, but she was angry with him. She was discouraged and saddened that he could not allow her to… love him.

Damn him.

Everything was backward now. None of this was what they’d planned.

But it could have been better. Oh, so much better.

“You are not a stranger.” His eyes implored her. “I think you will be happier there. Every day since our wedding, I see more sadness in your eyes. I see your disappointment. I never intended to make you unhappy. ”

She twisted her mouth into a painful smile. “Not every bride manages to be sent away by their groom so quickly. I had hoped…”

“Lillian.” He lifted his hands, almost as though he wanted to embrace her from behind but then stopped himself. “I cannot. I—I simply want to protect you from the pain of…”

“Your death? Of losing you?” She was unable to prevent the frustration from spewing out.

She couldn’t help but resent his belief but knew arguing was not the answer.

She’d believed what she’d told him initially. He was the only person who could convince himself otherwise.

He had lost members of his family at very impressionable times of his life, and the tragedies had left an emotional scar in the form of this horrific obsession. He might very well require fifty years or more before he could believe otherwise.

“It is not necessary for you to die for me to me to lose you, Christian. I began to lose you the day we met.” Lose