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He knew she would never be happy with half a life.
She wanted it all.
He would be damned if he was the one that kept her in chains.
‘I will never forgive myself. But you have the luxury of turning her into an object. Of turning her into a child that you must guide and care for. I have a child. I have a son, and I know the difference between being a father and being a husband. I am not her brother. I am not her father. She is my wife. And I am her life sentence.’
‘Better than being her gallows.’
‘She is not a child. I cannot look at her day in and day out and feel pleased with sentencing her to have a life where she is treated like she is weak and like she does not know her own desires.’
‘That is a very noble way of saying you cannot control your cock.’
‘Perhaps I cannot. Perhaps I want her. But you will find that she is not upset about that either. All she wanted was a Season, Kendal. For a man to look at her across the room and want her. I want her. She and I have been shaped and forged in a particular sort of fire, and I suppose the end result is that we suit each other better than we could’ve imagined. I am not ashamed of it. I refuse to be.’
‘I wash my hands of you.’
‘Then you wash your hands of her as well. For she is my wife. She is my family now. I protect mine.’
He walked away then, leaving behind the only real friend he had ever had.
And when he exited the ballroom, he saw her standing there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. And he realised... He had her now. Whatever else.
In this moment. He had her.
They got into the carriage together, and she put her hand on his thigh. More of that casual sort of touch that lit him from within. ‘I’m sorry,’ Beatrice said. ‘That was a terrible thing for him to say. It was a terrible thing for him to do. You are an honourable man, Briggs...’
‘I’m not,’ Briggs said. ‘He is right. If I had honour, I wouldn’t have touched you. But I did not have honour, what I had was a desire to see you happier than you were. And I wanted you. It was that simple.’
‘I am not sorry about it.’
‘I know,’ he said.
‘He should not have brought up your wife.’
No. But perhaps now was the time when he should speak to Beatrice about it.
But he did not. He did not. Instead when they got home they did not speak. He pulled her into his arms, and made a particularly punishing night of it.
* * *
The next day, she set out to find a physician to speak to.
And Briggs decided to have a picnic indoors with William.
‘Where are your cards, William?’ he asked, when they were midway through their meal and he realised that his son had not produced them.
‘I do not play with them any more.’
‘Why not?’
‘I know all the answers on them. They’re in my head. Where no one can see.’
Briggs felt a twist of regret inside him.
And there were so many things he wanted to say, but he did not know how to say them.
He thought of what his own father would’ve done, but he couldn’t even get that far, because his father
