Chapter 30
30
“Where’s the duchess?” Constantine barked, shoving his hole-ridden hat into Simons’s hands. His workman’s clothes were disheveled, clumps of wet mud still clinging to his boots.
He had practically flown to All Saints on Icarus only to discover the christening had finished without him.
Of course it had. He’d arrived two hours late.
Simons gave him a quick once-over, never having seen the Duke of Pryde in such a sorry state. Normally, that would have set Constantine’s teeth on edge, the need to appear perfect, but today he couldn’t care less.
“Your Grace, the duchess is upstairs. She’s?—”
But Constantine was already taking the stairs two at a time, his mind racing with all the things he needed to say. He pushed open the door to her bedchamber and froze, breath knocked out of his lungs.
Standing by the bed, Modesty was folding gowns and placing them into an open trunk. Her maid was busy on the other side of the bed, doing the same. Augustus lay in his cot nearby, cooing.
“Modesty, what are you doing?”
She turned to face him, and the look in her eyes made his blood run cold. There was hurt there, yes, but also a steely resolve he’d never seen before. She looked him over, frowning. “Why are you dressed like that? Do you know what, Constantine, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know. I’m leaving.”
Leaving. Well, why wouldn’t she leave him after all this?
The maid curtsied to him and threw a careful look at Modesty. “I’ll go and prepare the boxes for your bonnets, Your Grace.” She retreated.
Where would Modesty go? To Egypt? With George…? Goddamn it! Had he managed to reach her first? Had he told her everything?
George was going to give her the world when Constantine had locked her into a marriage she’d never wanted, into a position she despised. And even after he’d promised to be by her side, he’d abandoned her.
He had to alert her about George’s true nature, but he would also need to tell her the whole truth… Could he finally do that?
Pride coursed through his veins, gripping his throat like a fist. His heart beat hard with love and fear, every slam against his ribs resonating in pain.
He crossed the few steps between them, took her by the elbow, and turned her to him gently. “Darling, please, don’t go. Let me explain.”
“Explain about your father’s will? I already know.”
Constantine felt his body grow cold. “How did you— Did he get to you?”
She took a folded letter from the side table and handed it to him. “If you mean His Royal Highness, then yes. He was kind enough to enlighten me and then asked me to give you this. Even he came for the christening, while my husband couldn’t be bothered to attend.”
Not George but the Regent… His other adversary. He unfolded the letter with icy fingers and his heart sank.
Words sprang at him as he quickly scanned the elegant handwriting.
Your presence is required…
hearing in the House of Lords…
three days…
grave concerns…
right to the title of Duke of Pryde questioned…
Dread wound around his heart.
Shame and pride warred within him. “He had no right to tell you what was not his to tell.”
“No right?” Modesty’s voice rose. “I would argue he had every right to tell me the truth. The price of your secrets—of your pride—is finally catching up with you.”
Constantine’s jaw ached.
Drop to your knees, you fool. Tell her everything. Beg for her forgiveness.
His throat spasmed. Without reproach. He had to be without reproach.
“I was going to solve everything before I had to burden you with the truth. I wanted to protect you from this.”
Modesty shook her head, her eyes teary. “You were protecting yourself, Constantine. Your title. Your precious reputation. That is all you have cared about all along.”
She snatched her elbow out of his hand and turned back to her packing, picking up a gown then throwing it on the bed and folding it in sharp movements. “If you truly cared for me and Augustus, you’d have told me.”
He loved her. But she was right, he should have told her long ago. Constantine’s hands shook, itching to stop her. A dark abyss was spreading under his feet—the abyss he’d created with his own decisions and actions.
She threw the next gown into the trunk. “Do you know how foolish I felt, standing there alone? How embarrassed? I actually believed you cared for me, for Augustus. You promised me you’d be there.”
Constantine couldn’t stand it; this helplessness was killing him. She was slipping out of his grip, and he couldn’t do anything.
She shook her head. “I even considered postponing so that you could be the godfather. Until the whole ton showed up!”
He frowned. “The whole ton?”
“Yes!”
“Not just the Regent?”
“No! Why did you invite them?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then who? Octavius said he might have spilled the news to the Regent, but others mentioned receiving invitations.”
Constantine’s mind spun. Written invitations… The blackmail payment deadline moved to the same day as christening without warning. She must have realized what a rotten man she married by now.
“George…” he murmured, realization hitting him like a fist. “It was all George Lockhart.”
She stopped folding and stared at him as if waiting for him to sprout horns. “What about George?”
“It was him, Modesty. He blackmailed me. He made sure I had to miss the christening. He invited the ton!”
She exhaled sharply, blinking. “This is ridiculous. George would never! Don’t put the blame on him when nothing should have stopped you from being there for Augustus—from standing by my side like your friends did. I thought I had glimpsed a caring man under all those layers of stone. Clearly I was mistaken.”
His friends had been there for her, while he’d abandoned her…
It was like the snap of a whip against his pride. He swallowed it. He shouldn’t get defensive now. For once, he needed to tell her the truth. Lay himself bare.
Tell her what she and Augustus meant to him.
He opened his mouth to do so. But his pride had erected walls so high even he couldn’t get past them. “I do care for you,” he finally managed. “Both of you. More than anything.”
Weak. Care for them? That didn’t begin to describe what he felt.
They were his world.
He lifted a hand towards her, longing to pull her close, to stroke her hair, but she stepped out of his reach.
“If that were true, you would have trusted me with your secrets. But you didn’t see me, did you? Not really. You saw a convenient solution to your problem. A simple vicar’s daughter, willing to sacrifice everything for a child in need.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Couldn’t it?” Modesty’s voice cracked. “I’ve spent most of my life trying to be whatever my father needed me to be. Then whatever you needed me to be. I married a man I barely knew because I thought it was the right thing to do for Augustus. I stopped going to the women’s almshouse because you deemed it beneath a duchess. I was not allowed to do any more excavations. And for what?”
Constantine’s face crumpled. “Pray, allow me the chance to make amends. We can resolve this. I’ll do anything.”
For a moment, Modesty hesitated. But then she looked over at Augustus, and something in her green eyes solidified.
“No.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “I can’t keep sacrificing pieces of myself, hoping that someday it will be enough. That someday I’ll be worthy of your trust.”
She met Constantine’s eyes, and there was hardness in her gaze that he’d never seen before. “I’m more than just a convenient solution to your problems. I’m more than just a vessel for everyone else’s needs and expectations. It’s time I remembered that and put my own dreams first.”
Egypt…she meant Egypt!
His stomach dropped to the floor.
“Don’t go to Egypt with him, Modesty,” he rasped. “George Lockhart was the man blackmailing me this entire time. I’m dressed like this because I’ve just chased him in Whitechapel.”
She looked at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Are you listening to yourself? You’re trying to slander one of my closest friends? George would never blackmail anyone! He’s one of the kindest people I know!”
Constantine’s back was damp with sweat. “I know he may appear that way, but he has everyone fooled. And he said he was going to save you from me. You must be careful. Do not?—”
Red eyebrows drew together; green eyes darkened with fury. “Enough!” She lifted Augustus from his bassinet.
“Don’t go,” he managed, his voice cracking.
Modesty paused, Augustus cradled against her chest. For a heartbeat, Constantine imagined she might change her mind, find it in her heart to give him a chance.
But she’d given him so many already.
She squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze. “I pray that you will one day come to choose love over pride.”
He felt like she’d knocked all air from his lungs, and all he could do was gape.
“I’m going to stay with Papa for a while. Be well, Constantine.”
He watched, frozen in place, as she swept past him, her scent ofwildflowers lingering in the air. He heard her footsteps on the stairs, the murmur of voices below, the front door closing with a final, devastating thud.
And then, silence.
Constantine sank onto the bed without feeling his legs. He’d had a treasure he never knew he needed—a woman he loved, a child he’d grown to cherish—and in trying to protect the position he never should have had, he’d lost everything.
The grand bedchamber, with its opulent furnishings, felt hollow. Empty. Just like the space in his heart where Modesty and Augustus had been.
Constantine buried his face in his hands. The piercing pain in his chest sliced through his throat and shot up into his eyes. For the first time since that day in the stables as a boy, tears fell, and he didn’t stop them. He didn’t weep for his title or his reputation, but for the family he’d pushed away. For the love he’d been too afraid to fully embrace.
The price of pride was far higher than he’d ever imagined.