The End of a Marriage (Colette and Matheo) novel Chapter 228

The words hung heavy in the air. He’d finally said it out loud, and he

braced himself for Maggie’s reaction. He expected shock, outrage,

maybe even colorful cursing for daring to think of Isla that way–a

girl ten years younger, barely out of her teenage years. But Maggie

didn’t respond the way he expected.

Instead, she sighed, her expression softening, though it carried a

tinge of pity. “And she said no?”

Graham barked out a hollow laugh, the pain evident in the sound.

“Multiple times.” He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as

if searching for answers there. His vision blurred, whether from the

whiskey or the ache in his chest, he wasn’t sure.

Maggie watched him for a moment, her face unreadable. Finally, she

broke the silence. “Master Graham, you don’t know how worried

we’ve all been since your father passed away,” she began, her voice

quieter now, more measured. “Me, Edwin, the others–we’ve all been

thinking about Isla, about what would become of her. She’s

practically got no family to speak of. And with Mr. Lancaster gone…”

Her voice wavered for a moment before she steadied herself. “With

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Chapter 228

her being deaf, we all knew she’d have a harder time than most. She

was even talking about going to college, trying to figure out how to

make it on her own. But we’ve been dreading the day she’d have to

leave this house. Because she would, eventually.”

Graham sat up straighter, the haze of alcohol no longer enough to

dull the intensity of the conversation.

“If you marry her,” Maggie continued, her words deliberate and

weighted, “it would be the safest, most secure thing for her. She’d

have a family, a home. And you’d have someone to care for, someone

to care for you in return.

Graham sat back in his chair, momentarily stunned by Maggie’s

unexpected emotional outpouring. Just moments ago, she had been

an indignant whirlwind, demanding answers about his intentions

toward Isla. And now? Now she was practically encouraging him to go

for it. For a moment, he forgot all about the whiskey in front of him.

He blinked, processing her words, before finally breaking the silence.

“Maggie, if there’s ever a marriage between Isla and me,” he began,

his voice steady, though the words felt strangely intimate, even in the

privacy of his study, “it won’t be just about offering her protection or

security. Yes, that would be part of it–maybe even a big part–but it

won’t be the only reason.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk, his gaze fixed on

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Maggie as if willing her to understand. “It wouldn’t be a sham, like

you might think. It would be real. The forever kind of real. Isla

wouldn’t just be my wife in name–she’d be mine, heart, body, and

soul.”

The weight of his declaration hung in the room, unspoken thoughts

flickering through his mind. He pictured a life with Isla: quiet

mornings, shared smiles, perhaps even children–dark–haired and

green–eyed like her, shy and thoughtful. The thought startled him,

and he shook his head, scolding himself silently. Children? Why was

he even thinking about that? And why was he having this

conversation with his housekeeper of all people?

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed his empty glass and tossed it

aside, the clatter of it hitting the wooden surface a sharp punctuation

to his thoughts. The whiskey was doing a number on him tonight.

Maggie, unflinching as ever, gave him a wry smile, her dimples

softening the sternness of her earlier demeanor. “I never meant to

imply it wouldn’t be a real marriage, sir,” she said, her voice tinged

with amusement. “You’re a great catch, after all.”

Her words struck him as oddly funny, and he found himself chuckling,

a low, dry sound. Maggie’s sudden shift in tone had an almost

disarming effect on him.

“It would be like one of Isla’s dreams come true,” she continued, her

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