"Everything about this marriage is clinical, Edward. At least I'm honest about it."
He set down his fork with deliberate care. "Very well. For one week, I shall play the part of the devoted husband. I shall touch you appropriately. I shall gaze at you with something approximating warmth. I shall lie to your parents with the same conviction I've been lying to everyone else for three years." He stood abruptly. "Is there anything else you require from your performing monkey?"
Margaret's composure cracked, just slightly. "I require you to act as though I'm not the worst thing that ever happened to you."
"But you are," he said softly, and there was something almost sad in his voice. "You're a constant reminder of everything I've lost. My freedom. My pride. My ability to make my own choices." He moved toward the door, then paused. "Though I suppose I'm the same for you, aren't I? A reminder that your father's money can buy anything except genuine respect."