His Temporary Duchess (Dukes Ever After #5)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

E leanor paced the drawing room, then left for the gardens, which were in full bloom. Summer truly was a wonderful time of year, she reflected, and how cruel the world was that she would not be able to appreciate it properly. A weight pressed on her heart.

She was under no illusions about what Lady Lydia had wanted when she had visited, asking for Sebastian. The boldness of the lady! And her audacity in suggesting, so very delicately, that it was better to know as little as possible of one’s husband’s activities.

Eleanor had not been born a fool. She knew as the sunlight beamed down on her face that men often strayed from their wives in marriage. And perhaps she was an idealistic fool for supposing that Sebastian did not. Had not. Would not.

She had deluded herself into thinking that he would be loyal to her because he’d married her. And once they had finally consummated the marriage, she had never had reason to doubt his loyalty.

Now, however, she doubted everything.

No. No, she doubted that he had ever moved past Lady Lydia’s betrayal. And now, with the lady in question pursuing him so thoroughly, she couldn’t be certain that he would deny her.

At the ball, they had danced together.

She paced in the gardens until the tip of her nose felt uncomfortably hot, then came inside to the news that yes, the Duke had returned, and no, he had not come looking for her.

Well then.

Well.

The tightness in Eleanor’s chest grew. It was not as though she had been hiding from sight, or failed to inform any of the servants where she had gone. The implication was obvious: he had not cared enough to seek her out.

Her breath shuddered out of her lungs, but she refused to cry. Instead, she went to one of the back parlors where she had done some sewing, and sat, staring sightlessly at the wall for long moments before she came back into herself.

Enough of this , she told herself sternly. If you have a problem with your husband, all you must do is speak to him .

Easier said than done.

The setting sun bathed the world as she made her way to his study. She knocked and called his name. Then, when she received no answer, she let herself in.

The room was empty. The disappointment stabbing her gut felt as though it had rendered her through. Sebastian had gone, and he had not so much as sent a message for her.

Perhaps he had gone to see Lady Lydia.

She pressed a hand against her stomach, willing herself to keep her composure. Surely he would not be away all evening—they were due to dine together in just an hour or so. Her thoughts calmed. If he had left, she would merely wait for him. No doubt she was overthinking, anyway. She had the tendency to do so when she was upset.

To pass the time, she moved about the study, which had retained the cleanness she had given it all those weeks ago. Her fingers moved over dustless, clean surfaces. The hearth had been swept out, and if he had been drinking in here, she saw no evidence of it.

The man who inhabited these rooms now was happier than the one who had inhabited them before.

As she passed his desk, remembering the time she had seen his letters and learned how deeply he cared, she came across something she hadn’t seen before. A slip of paper sticking out from behind the escritoire. Curious, she tugged it free.

The page was in Sebastian’s handwriting. Half-finished, by the look of it, and she would have put it back, had she not caught sight of her name.

It was… a list.

Remove the mouse and deny her further pets

Limit her freedom

Force her into subservience

Small cruelties

Refuse to eat with her

Make her believe she repulses me

Dismiss her ability to alter the house to her liking

Ignore her

The list went on and on. Some things she noticed almost immediately—the way he had refused to allow her to change anything about the house. Other things she suspected he had not gotten around to doing. Certainly, he had not convinced her that he was repulsed by her.

Although he had denied her for a long time.

All of it—everything he had done had been under the pretense of having her separate from him. Even now, no doubt, he was hoping that she would finally have it within herself to leave so he would not have to chase her out.

Ever since their marriage, she had been trying to win him over, and he had been doing his best to chase her away.

Her breath left her lungs and she sat abruptly. It was one thing to suspect him of harboring feelings for a lady other than her, but this ?

It was too much to bear.

How could she live with this knowledge? She had always known he had not loved her, and had not married her out of any desire to—but she had not known how desperately he had wanted to be free of her. Free of his marriage. He had wanted nothing more than to be rid of her.

Hurt split her heart wide; she felt almost as though she ought to have heard the cracking for herself, the way an ancient tree was timbered. Down, down, down. The pain of it was a scream inside her chest, and if she was anywhere else, she would have given in to the urge to cry. It hurt to breathe.

How could he do this to her when she had done nothing but love him?

She dropped her head in her hands. Five minutes, that was all she would allow herself. Five minutes in which to grieve the life she had thought she would share with Sebastian. Five minutes to grieve the husband she’d thought she had.

Then, when it was over, when she could finally draw in a full breath, she would give him what he wanted. She loved him enough for that, at least. He might never have loved her back, but she cared for him enough to leave. Once she had disappeared from his life, she would find a way of picking up the pieces.

A life without Sebastian in it. The empty years stretched pointlessly ahead of her, and she drew in a jagged breath. A tear escaped, and she forced it back.

Later. She would cry later.

Five minutes passed all too quickly, but when she raised her head, her resolve was set. She found his ink pot and pen under the mass of other correspondence, and found a sheet of paper. Quickly—she must be quick, before he returned. Better she not see him now, and then he would never know precisely how deeply he had ruined her.

Dear Sebastian , she wrote. It has come to my attention that you are not happy in this marriage and would rather leave it. Learning this grieves me beyond all belief. When I vowed I would stay by your side, I meant it. I thought we could grow to love each other and build a life together. However, I was mistaken. That is not your desire. Thus, by the time you read this, I shall be gone. Annulment I believe is out of the question, but we can live separate lives. That way, you may allow your feelings for certain others to take precedence in a way I’m sure you would not contemplate while I still lived under your roof . She contemplated underlining this section for emphasis, then decided not to. Although her heart did hold anger and bitterness, the emotions she felt the most were love and grief.

I want nothing more than your happiness, and I understand now that I cannot be the reason behind this. You will never see me again.

With all my love,

Eleanor

She folded the letter and kissed it before leaving it on the table and hurrying from the room, calling for Abigail and instructing her to pack a small trunk. She would allow herself fifteen minutes to leave and no longer. When she was gone, Sebastian would find her note and understand that she was letting him go. Perhaps, at first, he might be angry. He did not like his will tested. But soon, he would see it was for the best.

“Come along, Scrunch,” she murmured, her nose stinging and the inevitable tears encroaching. Olivia would understand—her friend would shelter her and comfort her broken heart. One thing was for sure: she could never go back to Margaret. “Say your goodbyes, because we will never come here again.”