"And you did not care. You looked at the entire aristocracy and decided they were not worth your tears." "They aren't," Norah said fiercely. "I know."
Henry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I am 28 years old. I possess three estates and a title that dates back to the Conqueror. Until three days ago, I had never made a single genuine choice in my life."
"You freed me." Norah's throat tightened. She took a step back, crossing her arms defensively. "I did nothing but refuse to drown."
"Do not make me a symbol of your rebellion, Your Grace. I am a woman who needs employment and a hot meal, not a pedestal." Henry laughed. It was a real laugh, rough and startled, breaking the tension in the room.
"God, you are pragmatic." He stood up. He walked toward her, stopping exactly two paces away. The unspoken rule of her old life.
But this time, it was a boundary of respect, not servitude. "I am not making you a symbol," Henry said. "I am making you an offer." Norah narrowed her eyes.
"I will not be your mistress. I don't care how many estates you own. I would rather walk to London and scrub floors." "I am entirely aware of that," Henry said.
A faint smile touched his lips. "And you would be a terrible mistress. You would correct my posture and complain about the cost of the wine." "I absolutely would."
The humor faded, leaving something intense and terrifyingly vulnerable in its wake. "I am going to Scotland, to my estate in the Highlands. It is cold. It is isolated, and society does not care to travel that far north."
"I am leaving this circus behind." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment. He held it out to her. "This is a special license," Henry said.
"Procured yesterday from a very expensive, very discreet bishop." Norah looked at the paper, then up at his face. Her breath hitched. "You are mad."
"We established that on the dirt road three days ago." "I am a companion," she whispered, the reality of the world finally crashing against the walls of the tiny inn room. "I have no dowry. I have no bloodline."
"The ton will tear you to pieces." "Let them try," Henry said, his voice hardening into steel. "Let them talk in their drawing rooms. We won't be there to hear it."