Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
What is that incessant bright light? And better yet, where am I?
The sun pried open Hugo’s heavy-lidded eyes. He blinked against the unfamiliar rays, the room slow to come into focus.
When was the last time he had been woken by the sun? It had been years since he rose so late. Even as a young boy, he was too restless to wait for the world to wake up, to relinquish that control.
The scent of fresh lavender and old books was distinctly hers. He took a long breath as the reality of the night before settled over him, soft as the eiderdown enveloping them.
He turned his head on the pillow, finding Elspeth sleeping peacefully beside him. He could not help but return the faint smile she held, even though her eyes were closed, unable to see it.
She had the most naturally pink, pouty lips and a delicate nose, smattered with faint freckles. He watched her—for how long, he did not know—a strange warmth unfurling in his chest as he realized just how angelic her face was.
It was a feeling he had never known. He could not name it, but he felt it.
Completeness.
No sooner did that feeling come than a cold dread set in, making him shudder. He felt a tightening in his chest, an urge to run away.
This feeling, while new, was not entirely unfamiliar. This inexplicable fullness was unnervingly like how he had once felt about…
Mary.
Yes, the last time he had felt this, it had led to a vow.
How could he forget the promise he had made to himself, to never be so vulnerable again? Was he so starved for bodily pleasures that he had been blinded?
He could not let it happen. Not now. Not with Elspeth. He had to sever this fragile thread before it became a chain that could leave them bound forever.
He thought of Mary choosing his father over him, her reckless spending that almost brought ruin upon Arrowfell and its holdings. He had spent so long undoing the damage wrought by one woman, all facilitated by his father. The man he had looked up to, undone by a woman and her wiles.
Duty. Control. I must get out of here.
He slipped out of bed carefully, then tiptoed across the floor to gather the few items of clothing he had with him. He made himself presentable, knowing he must quickly sneak down the hall to his quarters.
While the sun had just risen, if he was quick enough, none of the servants would be the wiser as to where he had spent the night. Yes, they were discreet. He paid them well to be loyal, but he did not want to test their loyalty.
He paused for a moment at Elspeth’s bed, looking down at her perfect face. If he were an uncomplicated man, a different man…
Damn it!
He shook the thought out of his head and headed for the door, his heart pounding in his ears with each step. He turned the doorknob as quietly as he could and slipped into the empty hallway. He moved quickly and silently, a ghost in his own manor.
His room was at the end of the hall, just a short sprint away. He did not dare look back as he closed the distance. He twisted the handle, slid inside, and shut the door behind him with a soft click.
I made it. She is not compromised, and the servants are none the wiser. I can come back from this lapse in judgment.
He leaned his back against the door, the cool wood a welcome comfort. He was alone, and everything was as it should be. Perhaps he could just pretend that last night did not happen at all, to be the cold and calculating duke he had always been.
The familiar, empty ache had replaced the feeling of completeness. He had made his escape, but for the first time in his life, the freedom he found felt less like a victory and more like a punishment.
I must get this witch out of my home before the temptation becomes too great and I no longer have the strength to break her spell.
He made his way to the breakfast room, a knot of resolve tightening in his stomach.
Elspeth was already there, her face bright with a smile he could not bring himself to return, much as it pulled at him. He had to remain strong, to remember his vow.
If he did not have his vow, his fortitude, then who would he be?
She smiled brightly at him, her emerald-green eyes twinkling in the sunlight that streamed through the open windows.
He blinked his eyes, trying to see some imperfection in her that he could focus on. To his chagrin, he could not find one. Even the slightest upturn of her left eye versus her right made her look ethereal, unique, and beautiful.
Why does she have to look like this?
“Good mornin’, Hugo,” she greeted, her voice light as birdsong as she rose to her feet. “It is a most beautiful day, is it nae?”
“Good morning,” he replied, his voice flat. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he took his usual seat. “I have something I need to tell you.”
The smile on her face disappeared as she sat back down slowly and delicately set a napkin on her lap. She picked up her teacup and took a small sip, as graceful as a ballerina on a stage.
Grandmother’s lessons have done her so well. She is the picture of grace.
“Oh?” she murmured, bringing him back to the matter at hand. “What is it?”
“Yes. After the charity event,” he began, carefully buttering a piece of toast to have something to do with his hands, not making eye contact. “If you receive no acceptable proposals, or if the offers made are not to your liking, you may go back home, to Inverhall. I have decided it.”
Elspeth’s teacup clattered against her plate as she dropped it.
“I—I beg yer pardon?”
“I will let you have it, Elspeth.”
“I daenae understand. What did I—”
“The estate, and a generous allowance to live out the rest of your days comfortably. I trust you will find that suitable.”
The rest of your days…
The words felt like ash in his mouth. He should have been happy to give her back her freedom, especially after everything she had been through in the city. Better yet, she should have been overjoyed to hear it.
Instead, he watched as the light died in her eyes, leaving them dull and lifeless.
She should be grateful. It has to be this way. Can she not see it?
“Does this not please you, Elspeth? Is this not what you wanted from the very start?”
“That is very kind of ye. A bit unexpected, especially after last night.” She lifted her napkin to her nose and patted it gently. “I just, I daenae understand where this is comin’ from. It seems terribly sudden. Did I do somethin’ wrong? Erm, I mean last night. Was I nae to yer likin’? Did I—”
“We cannot be together, Elspeth,” he cut in. “That is it. It is not personal.”
“It feels very personal,” she countered, leaning forward in her seat. “Why are ye doin’ this just as we’re growin’ close?”
He knew this; this was the final, cruel blow. He had to, to solidify their break.
“I have made a vow—you know this now more than anyone. I will never fall in love, you see. It is just not in the cards for me. I am sorry if I made you feel there was a possibility. It is not the case. You were mistaken.”
Hugo watched as a tear pooled at the corner of her eye. She quickly dashed it away, blinking her emerald-green eyes as if there was a speck of dust in them. He pretended not to see it, reverting to his usual aloofness.
It must be this way.
“Of course. How foolish of me to think otherwise,” she said, her voice a low whisper. “Why would ye ever fall in love with an untouched widow like me? A wild Highlander with an unsavory past, no matter how hard I have tried to overcome—to show ye—to fit in with those vultures!”
With that, she rose and pushed her chair back with a sharp, grating thud. She bolted out of the room, leaving her breakfast unfinished.
Hugo did not follow her. His heart thudded against his ribs as her footsteps echoed through the empty hall outside the room.
After a few moments, he got up from his chair and slammed it against the mahogany table. He stormed down the hall to his study, where he promptly buried himself in work.
It would have been better to go fencing, to spar with a partner to exert himself and exhaust some energy, but he was afraid he would hurt someone. The papers on his desk were a safer and welcome distraction from the hollow ache in his chest.
At least this would be more productive than drowning his sorrows in drink, which he could always do later.
He worked so hard that his eyes burned until the words on the page blurred into a meaningless mess.
He had done the right thing, he told himself. He had protected himself, and he had given Elspeth a way out. He should feel relieved.
She should be grateful.
A woman like her could fare much worse. And yet she deserved the world on a silver platter. All he felt was an overwhelming, crushing emptiness.
“Your Grace.” Mrs. Whipple appeared in the doorway, a small tray in hand. “It is lunch time. I thought to bring you a simple tray with finger sandwiches, some hot tea, and—”
“Leave me,” Hugo barked, slamming his fist on the table.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mrs. Whipple said, leaving the tray on the table by the door and turning around. “As you wish…”
I must get through the charity event, this cursed test. No matter what he says, no matter how confusin’ this all is, I must do right for these lads. Me own life can wait. They need me.
After that fated morning, Elspeth had thrown herself into the preparations for the upcoming charity event.
She inspected the table linens that had recently arrived, unboxing them with the staff, who took them downstairs for pressing.
She received the flower deliveries and carefully placed each bloom in ornate vases.
She dictated menus to Mrs. Whipple so that Monsieur Henri could review the final orders.
Unfortunately, her Scottish French was too unrefined for his Parisian ears.
“So that covers all of the courses,” Mrs. Whipple said with a final flick of her quill. “That will be nine in all, ten including dessert, and a quartet for entertainment between dessert and digestifs in the ballroom. Have the boys finished rehearsing their number?”
“Aye, they sound most lovely.”
“Then I think that’s it, My Lady.”
“I think it does cover it all,” Elspeth agreed, running through her own mental list. “I cannae believe we are almost there. So much work for one evenin’!”
“But what an evening it will be, Lady Inverhall,” Mrs. Whipple said with a warm smile. “You have done as well as any duchess I have ever seen. You have a knack for this, whether you can see it or not.”
“Thank ye.” Elspeth felt a flush rise to her cheeks.
“Any duchess I have ever seen…”
“Let us hope that the boys can behave during their part. That is what I am concerned about most!”
“I can only pray that they do,” Elspeth said, looking up at the sky. “Now, I think there must be another million things I must get to!”
Her every movement was precise yet detached. It was almost as if she were a machine going through the motions while her soul was floating elsewhere.
She knew in her heart that it was a way to numb the pain.
She needed to give her hands something to do…
while her heart shattered into a million pieces.
She could not allow herself to think of why Hugo had rejected her.
She would not let herself wonder why she was not happier at the prospect of returning to Inverhall at the end of it all.
I must stay focused on the here and now.
“Good afternoon, Lady Elspeth,” the Dowager Duchess greeted as she approached her.
“I am sorry, I dinnae hear ye come in, Yer Grace. What do ye think so far?”
“You are doing well enough with these final arrangements, but I cannot help but notice there is something absent from your perennially sunny disposition. I cannot put my finger on it. Are you well?”
“Well enough,” Elspeth replied with a fake smile.
“Please do not tell me you are coming down with an ailment this close to the festivities.”
“It is nothin’, Yer Grace,” Elspeth mumbled, looking down at her hands as she wrung them.
“Hmm.” The Dowager Duchess drew closer to her. “If there is something wrong, some trouble, it is better to spill it out now.”
“No trouble,” Elspeth insisted, her shoulders slumping as she looked down at her feet. “I am just nervous about the upcomin’ event. That must be it.”
“I do not believe you, Elspeth. And you must keep your shoulders back and your head held high,” the Dowager Duchess said with a click of her tongue. “I know you have much to focus your energy on. I will not distract you from your work.”
Elspeth watched her turn on her heel and walk with purpose down the hall.
Oh no.
“You are a fool,” the Dowager Duchess chided, entering Hugo’s study without a knock.
Hugo sighed, not looking up. “What is it now, Grandmother?”
“You are throwing away your happiness,” she said, her voice soft. “And what is worse, you are throwing away hers. I know what you went through. Perhaps not the whole of it, but I know enough.”
“Grandmother, I cannot—”
“Do not interrupt me, Hugo. You will let me speak!”
“Yes, Grandmother,” he said, still not looking up.
“While I was unconvinced of this young lady’s merit before, you could do far worse. I must say—confidentially, of course—I almost like her.”
“That is high praise, coming from you.”
“I mean it.”
“Grandmother, enough,” Hugo whispered.
“I know the pain your past has caused you, but do not let a ghost dictate your life. For once, choose happiness instead of duty. You deserve that much, Hugo. I would very much like to see that before I grow too old to see it for myself.”
Hugo finally looked up, his expression a wall of stone. “I cannot do that, Grandmother. Duty is my only purpose.” He gestured to the pile of papers on his desk. “It is all I have ever had.”
“And what a sad truth that is,” the Dowager Duchess said, before walking out.