Mark My Word

Florence's hands trembled as she looked at the trunks and boxes laying on her bedroom floor. This was happening, she was leaving her home and traveling to her future husband's estate.

The last few days had been unbearable. The dowager countess made every decision a battle. Thankfully, the marquise was such a gentle and understanding woman. She was so patient and noble that Florence's respect for her grew even more.

Florence was to travel to Luberik with the Flocks, her mother and brother would join them after they finalized a few things in Geiranger. Since the seamstress for her wedding dress was in the capital, it would be more convenient for her to meet her in Luberik. She was a famous dressmaker that only the rich and famous could afford. Marquise Flock had sent her a letter a few days ago and she had accepted to make Florence's wedding dress.

"My lady," Rilla called from the threshold. "Everything is ready."

"Alright, then."

Florence looked around her room one last time before taking fast steps out. She joined everyone at the foyer. Servants were bustling around, carrying trunks and luggage to the carriages.

"We will see you in a few days," Richard told Florence. "Have a safe journey." She wrapped her arms around her brother and they squeezed each other. "Be good, now," he whispered in her ear.

There was a ball in Florence's throat. She did not think she would get this emotional when leaving, but her tears threatened to spill at any moment. She nodded to her brother, afraid that her voice would betray her. Then bowed to her mother, who she knew did not appreciate hugs–especially from her.

"Come, my dear." Sofia gently pulled her toward one of the carriages. "Why don't you sit inside, you must be tired from all the packing."

Florence complied. Even though she was not tired from packing at all. Rilla and the other maids did all of it. But she appreciated the privacy that the carriage provided. She did not like others witnessing her emotional state.

A few minutes later, the carriage door opened. Florence had expected the marquise, but she was surprised when Henry climbed in. He immediately sighed when he saw her. He was quite annoyed with his mother and her attempts to push the two together.

He sat across from her with his jaw clenched.

When the carriage started moving, Florence looked out of the window. She stared at the house one last time. Seeing Richard and her mother standing to wave them goodbye brought the tightness back to her throat.

She thought it was silly–she was going to see them again in a few days–but the thought did not make the feelings she had go away.

The silence in the carriage was excruciating, but neither Florence nor Henry made an attempt to break it. They were both lost in their thoughts. The sound of the hooves and wheels, and the occasional whip, were almost soothing.

Henry was excited to leave Geiranger. He hated the place, it was too far away from the capital, from his Gisela. He missed her. He hated it even more now, thanks to the incident with Florence and his current predicament. Even if everyone around him was celebrating his wedding, he still had hope that he could stop this charade.

His eyes traveled to Florence. Never in his life did he want to strangle a woman as much as he did her.

"You know," he finally broke the silence. "If you annul the engagement you would still get what you want."

Florence looked at him, confused. She had no idea what he meant.

"After the rumors you have so bravely caused, I can assure you that no one would want to marry you." Henry's voice was cold.

"How dare you–"

"Is it not what you want?" he continued. "Evade marriage?"

'Is he serious?' Florence's face was red with rage.

"If you break our engagement, you won't have to marry anyone and you won't have to ruin my life."

Florence's guilt tugged on her heart, but only for a second. Henry's words were hurtful and they made it easier to push the guilt away. She took a deep breath before staring back at Henry's hazel eyes.

"Do you not think that we have come a long way to break our engagement, Lork Flock?"

"It is never too late." He shrugged.

"In this situation, I would say it is," Florence responded. "The invitations have already been sent."

"I would say even at the altar, it would not be too late."

Florence gasped.

"What? Is that shocking to you?" He chuckled.

"How could you stop a wedding when you are already standing before the Gods?"

Henry let out a throaty laugh. "Your hypocrisy does not cease to amaze me, Lady Kalwen."

"Excuse me?"

"You would not stop a wedding at the altar–standing before the Gods, but you would stand before them and spew lies as your wedding vows?"

"I would not." Henry's brows shot up. "I will vow to be the best wife I can be to you, Lord Flock, and I intend to keep my word."

Henry stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. Then his laugh echoed through the carriage. Not a humorous one, but a laugh of disbelief and despair.

'This woman.'

"I will never consider you as my wife," Henry spat venomously.

Florence blinked at him a few times.

"I will never love you," he added. "Mark my words, I–"

His words died when the carriage shook violently and suddenly started to pick up speed.

"What the hell is going on, Reid?" Henry asked.

"One of the horses is going wild, my lord," the coachman answered, his voice restrained from his effort.

Florence yelped as her body was thrown from one side of the seat to the other.

"Hold on to something," Henry told her while trying to keep himself from being tossed around as well.

He looked out of the window and pressed his lips together. The carriage was reaching a dangerous speed. He looked at Florence whose face was as pale as a sheet.

For a split second, his eyes met her blue pools. They were scared, pleading for something. An unexplainable anger took a hold of him and he cursed under his breath.

"Hold on, my lord," the coachman screamed, making Florence's terrified eyes bulge.

"Oh Gods," she called before squeezing her eyes shut, ready for a crash.