“Well?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“That is fair.”
She folded her arms.
“Why are you doing this?”
He studied her face before replying.
“It seemed like the right thing to do.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“How can marrying someone who does not want it be the right thing?”
His eyes lowered briefly.
“I asked that you agree. Your aunt answered for you.”
“You could have refused.”
He looked at her carefully.
“And would that have helped you?”
The question caught her off guard.
If he had refused, Beatice would simply have found another way to get rid of her. Another man. Another arrangement. Another transaction.
Seeing that she understood, he said quietly, “Sometimes refusing a problem does not solve it. Sometimes it only changes its shape.”
She frowned. “You speak as if this marriage is a strategy.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“Life often is.”
Before she could answer, Beatice called him away. As he turned to go, he said softly, “I will not harm you.”
It was not trust Catherine felt then.
But it was the beginning of curiosity.
On the wedding day, the small village church was packed.
People came dressed in bright clothes, some out of curiosity, some for entertainment. Catherine stood in a back room in a simple white dress her aunt had bought in town. When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself.
Then it was time.
As she walked down the aisle, the whispers swelled.
“She is too beautiful for him.”
“What a shame.”
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