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“Now, please…” She picked up the quill and pretended to focus. “I do not mean to be rude, but this letter will not write itself.”

“Selina—”

“Good day, Edmund,” she spoke without looking at him.

She thought Edmund might speak again, but she was glad when he chose not to. His eyes lingered on the back of her head—she could feel the pity in them—before she heard him turn around and walk out of the room.

Alone once more, the quill still in hand, the tip hovered over the piece of parchment, but she found herself unwilling to put ink to paper.

Has it really come to this? Although why I am surprised, I do not know.

This had always been the plan.

It was last night as Selina lay crying in bed that she remembered the conversation she and Benedict had two months ago, when he had suggested that when the time was right, they might part ways amicably. They would be married in name only, and she would be free to live where she chose without having to stomach sleeping under the same roof as him.

For a time there, it had looked as if that plan might not come to fruition. She had truly believed that there was no need for it. She had even begun to wonder if their marriage, which had come about under such strange circumstances, might transform into one of happiness and joy and… and love.

She knew now that Benedict had never wanted any of that. And if he did, it would be up to him to tell her so. She had done all that she could, and she wouldn’t beg.

Pride was what brought her here. A lack of communication which was, ironically, the cornerstone of their marriage.

A single tear fell from Selina’s eye and landed on the page. She wiped it away, dipped her quill in the inkpot, and then began writing. It would take a few days for this letter to reach her cousin and a few days to receive a response. Long days, she suspected. More than enough time to fix everything, but…

No. There would be no fixing it. That, she now knew, was a certainty.

“Yes, I am more than aware of the circumstances, Edmund. As I was yesterday when you asked me. And the day before, when you first brought it to my attention.”

“And you are certain that you understand?” Edmund implored his brother. “Because from what I can tell, you have not fully grasped the situation.”

“I have,” Benedict responded simply. “And as you can see, I have made my decision.”

“To do nothing?”

“I am not doing nothing.” Benedict frowned. “I am playing with Charlie, after which I plan on getting some work done.”

Indeed, the puppy that Benedict had once helped save ran about his feet as it tried to bite a ball of twine that was far too big for its mouth.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Edmund cried. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

Benedict scoffed. “Did you consider that my sarcastic response might be attributed to how little I think of this conversation? And how quickly I wish for it to end?”

Edmund pursed his lips in frustration. Arms crossed. Glare hardened. It was a look that Benedict recognized well, for it was one that he used often. Whenever Edmund refused to listen to him or was doing something that he did not agree with, Benedict would fix him with that look before commanding him to obey.

Benedict felt a little like Edmund right now. Rather than working as he ought to, he was outside, in the stables, playing with a puppy because he could not concentrate and thought this a better option than sitting in his study and staring at his desk.

He was also shirking his responsibilities and running away from his problems rather than facing them, acting as if they did not exist because it was easier to do.

And Edmund, for reasons that he could not fathom, was doing a wonderful impression of Benedict. Perfect, right down to the self-righteous temperament, as if he was morally superior and for that reason alone his word should be heeded.

Bravo.

“So, that is it then?” Edmund asked. “She is going to leave, and you are perfectly fine with it?”

Benedict bent down and scooped Charlie onto his lap. “And as I have explained time and time again, this was always part of the plan. I do not understand why you are having such a hard time understanding it.”

“Because I do not believe you, is why! I do not believe for a second that you are glad to see her leave.”

Benedict made sure to focus on petting Charlie because he did not want to see the pain that was surely present in his eyes. “I am,” he lied. “As I am sure she is.”