Fucking and fighting. That's all they ever seemed to do anymore. The fucking was a form of fighting in itself, but it was the only time he could stand being around her. The screams of anger and resentment were replaced with moans, breaths, and little gasps of a quick fix before the fighting picked back up. He couldn't stand to look her in the eyes, so the only appropriate position was from behind.
In the past, he could at least find some joy in watching him work from her backside, with each stroke into her causing a vibration of skin from her rear as they slapped together. She had an incredible body, that was one of her redeeming qualities for what felt like a lifetime of torture. This wasn't the case for him anymore, and all he could do was stare blankly at the wall, eyes void of any excitement (or any emotional at all) until he finished. Well, until they finished. Sure, he hated her, but he wasn't a monster.
At least she couldn't get pregnant. Her condition was a blessing if he had ever seen one, and it left him free to relieve himself and not worry about the mess, pulling out, or worse: a child. He couldn't bare the thought of raising a child with the woman. No, he wouldn't have it.
Better make this one quick. He had a Noble's ball to attend.
This was really the only way it could work. For both of them to attend the party and not rip each other's throats out in the company of others, they would need to be at least some what relaxed. Her mind was in the same place, so it wasn't hard for him to convince her.
Just a little more.
Body quickly tensing, he let go of his current frustrations in the form of his most primal instinct, separated himself from her, and walked away without saying a word. What did she expect? He had to get dressed for tonight's event.
"Better get dressed soon, Cecilia, and something nice," he finally said from the other room. "These hosh posh assholes will expect nothing less."
He couldn hear her huff and puff from the next room before the sound of her footsteps scampered off into her own room. "Fuck you," was the only thing she said through tired breathing.
Living with a wife he despises, sleeping in separate rooms, fucking in the living space that they otherwise never occupied. What a life.
Bringing up the rear in coaches was none other than the one occupied by Emmett and Cecilia Ansley, and as they stepped out of the coach their icy expressions shifted to ones of excitement and good spirits. They were both great actors. Their act continued as they made their way up the steps, as they were greeted by the butler and again by Lord Victor, and all the way up to the point to where they were in the main audience chambers.
Then, without saying a word to one another, they split apart and made their way into separate sections of the gathering. Oh, another gathering. Emmett really hated gatherings. He wasn't sure why, he just wasn't fond of people in general. Maybe it was because she loved them. Her excitement to arrive on his arm was acted, sure, but her excitement to be there was genuine. She would be on the hunt for a man that night, someone to take her away. 'Please find one,' he actively rooted for her inside of his head.
Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure she was as far across the room as humanly possible before letting out a breath of relief.
He needed a drink.