the Villainess they took for granted

Marian returned to the Valmont residence shortly after Adrian left.

The carriage ride was quiet.

For several minutes, she simply sat against the cushions, watching the capital pass beyond the window.

She had cried before leaving.

More than she would have liked.

Now, with Adrian no longer in front of her, the sharpness of the hurt had begun to recede.

Marian let out a slow breath.

Perhaps she had been too emotional.

The medicine itself was hardly a betrayal.

They weren’t married.

Adrian was the Emperor.

A pregnancy now would complicate matters in ways neither of them could afford.

If she conceived before they were formally married, there would be questions about the child’s legitimacy and, inevitably, its place in the succession. The child’s paternity would have to be beyond question, and Adrian could hardly present the mother of his heir to the court as merely a woman he had taken to his bed.

If he truly intended to make her his Empress, as he had once intended to make her his wife, then there were formalities that had to come first.

Marriage.

Recognition.

The court.

The coronation.

Only afterward could an heir be conceived without leaving room for whispers.

Marian understood all of that.

She had understood it even before Adrian placed the medicine in her hand.

In fact, if she looked at the matter purely practically, she should have been relieved.

If Adrian truly intended to make her his wife, then of course he would want the child who might one day inherit the Empire to be conceived after their marriage, when her position as his Empress was formally established and no one could question the child’s legitimacy.

That should have comforted her.

Perhaps, in another circumstance, it would have.

So why had she cried?

Marian looked down at her hands.

Because she hadn’t been thinking about the child.

She had been thinking about herself.

About the moment Adrian had placed the medicine in her hand.

About the irrational hope that had existed for those few seconds before she swallowed it.

She had wanted him to stop her.

And when he hadn’t, some foolish part of her had wondered whether he truly wanted her at all.

Marian closed her eyes.

That was ridiculous.

She knew it was.

Adrian had wanted her enough to spend the night with her.

Enough to keep her beside him until morning.

Enough to watch her take the medicine himself.

And yet, somehow, she had still wanted something more.

She had wanted him to look at her and say, Don’t.

Even though, if he had, she wasn’t entirely certain she would have refused the medicine anyway.

The realization almost made her laugh through the remnants of her tears.

She had been crying over a contradiction she had created entirely in her own mind.

And perhaps that was the most embarrassing part of all.

Marian let out another slow breath.

If Adrian truly intended to make her his wife, then perhaps she had misunderstood the morning entirely.

Perhaps the medicine had not been a rejection at all.

Perhaps it had simply been Adrian reminding her that, whatever might happen between them, he would not allow emotion to outrun the reality of their circumstances.

That was reasonable.

More than reasonable, perhaps.

It was exactly what she would have expected of the Emperor.

So why had she been so ready to let one painful moment make her question everything?

Marian frowned slightly.

Because she had been frightened.

Frightened that she was beginning to want too much from him.

Frightened that she might give him everything she had left and discover that he still wouldn’t choose her.

The thought made her chest tighten again.

But this time, she didn’t let herself cry.

She had already decided to try.

And if she was going to try, then she needed to stop treating every difficult moment as proof that Adrian didn’t want her.

He had wanted her.

He had kept her beside him.

He had spent the morning with her.

He had watched over her.

Perhaps that was all she needed to understand for now.

She didn’t need an answer to everything today.

She only needed to decide whether she was willing to take the next step.

Marian looked down at her hands.

She was.

At least for now.

And then another thought came.

For now.

The words lingered.

Because she could still stop.

That was the part she could not forget.

She had chosen Adrian.

She had spent the night with him.

She had agreed to prove herself.

But none of that meant she had surrendered the right to change her mind.

If, after trying, she discovered that she could no longer bear what he asked of her, she could walk away.

She was still Marian Valmont.

She still had a future beyond Adrian.

She still had choices.

The thought steadied her.

There were men who would still seek her hand.

Men who knew about Adrian.

Men who knew about Cassian.

Perhaps some would judge her.

Others would not care.

She was the daughter of Duke Valmont. Her marriage still carried political weight. Her future had not disappeared simply because she had spent the night in Adrian’s chambers.

Julian Wiltshire came to mind.

Marian went still.

Julian was respectable.

Kind.

A sensible choice.

Someone who would probably never make her spend her mornings wondering whether she had passed some invisible test.

She could choose someone like him.

She could have a peaceful marriage.

A predictable one.

Perhaps that would be better.

The thought should have comforted her.

Instead, it left her strangely unsettled.

Because she wasn’t ready to choose someone else.

Not yet.

Perhaps that was what she needed to understand.

She wasn’t staying with Adrian because she had nowhere else to go.

She was staying because, despite the hurt, she still wanted to see where this could lead.

That distinction mattered.

Marian straightened slightly.

She had told Adrian she would prove herself.

She would.

She wouldn’t run after one difficult morning.

She wouldn’t abandon her decision simply because the first test had hurt.

She would try again.

Not because Adrian had commanded her to.

Not because she had no other choice.

Because she wanted to know whether he could eventually believe her.

And if, somewhere along the way, she discovered that she could no longer bear it—

she could still walk away.

For now, she would take it one test at a time.

--

P

By afternoon, the first whispers had already begun circulating through the capital.

Marian learned of them almost accidentally.

A note had been left among the afternoon correspondence.

She picked it up without much thought.

The message was from one of her acquaintances.

She read the first few lines.

Then stopped.

I hope you survived last night’s festivities.

Half the ballroom seems to have noticed that you and His Majesty disappeared after the intermission.

Marian stared at the page.

Of course.

She and Adrian had left together.

Neither of them had returned.

There was no explanation she could give that would prevent people from drawing their own conclusions.

Her cheeks warmed.

The entire capital would be talking.

They would wonder what had happened.

They would speculate about why the Emperor had taken his former fiancée away from the ballroom and why neither had appeared again for the rest of the evening.

And worse—

they would assume.

Marian folded the letter slowly.

Perhaps some would already believe that Adrian intended to restore their engagement.

Perhaps others would assume the matter had gone even further.

She wasn’t sure which possibility embarrassed her more.

But beneath the embarrassment was something else.

A strange awareness that whatever happened between her and Adrian was no longer entirely private.

The court had begun watching.

Marian looked down at the folded letter.

She couldn’t let the rumors decide anything for her.

Whatever happened next would have to come from Adrian.

And from her.

Not from what the capital believed.

She placed the letter aside.

Then she looked toward the window.

One test.

She had survived the first.

She would face the next when it came.

--

Tbc