Chapter 27
James
“Your Grace, would you like me to stoke the fire for you?” a servant’s voice called.
James looked over his shoulder. A young footman stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the sconces in the hall.
“No,” he replied. “I am quite comfortable as I am. You may retire.”
“As you wish, Your Grace. Is there anything else you require?”
“Solitude, if you please,” he said, but there was no anger in his voice. His tone was even, without inflection.
“Of course.”
It was only after the footman had disappeared that James realized who he was. He was the boy Frances had interceded for while he was being chastised by Franklin.
Memories of that day flashed through his mind, and he took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to be chastising Franklin again. Nor advocate for any of the servants. Her time at his home was at an end. Finished.
The previous day, her lady’s maid had supervised the packing of her belongings, which had been transferred to his godmother’s home.
She had made her way there after all, likely seeking the familiarity of the place.
Although how familiar it was to her, he didn’t know.
She hadn’t lived there for very long, after all.
What would her life be like now?
She would have her money. That was clear. He entirely believed her when she said that she was not going to spend a penny of it, that she was going to send it back, so he had decided to give the money to Aunt Eugenia instead.
She would keep it safe for Frances until her anger had ebbed. When she could think clearly again, she would be grateful for the money. James knew it.
He was going to provide for her as a gentleman ought. He was determined to do right by her.
Or as right as he could after he had upset her so very much. He hadn’t meant to make her love him, and he hadn’t meant to love her either. It had happened as naturally as breathing.
But that was utter foolishness. He had to forget all about that. And he would. Or at least he kept telling himself that.
He poured himself another whiskey. The third? Fourth? He had lost count. The decanter was nearly empty anyway.
Another knock sounded at the door, and he turned.
Not now.
“I told you I do not need anything. You may retire.”
“Your Grace.” Franklin stepped into the room without waiting for permission. “Someone is at the door. A visitor at this unseemly hour.”
“Who would call at this time of night?” It was almost ten o’clock.
“It is your godmother.”
James groaned. Of course, she was here. He had expected her sooner, to be frank.
“I suppose there is no way you can ask her to return at a more decent hour?”
“When have I ever been known to abandon a pursuit that I was committed to?” her voice came immediately, and she strode into the room.
She was wearing a gown fit for a ball and an elaborate turban. “And it is not late at all.”
“It is very late,” he insisted.
“At your age, you ought to be out and about at this time of day,” she remarked. “At least you are still awake, so I daresay it’s not too late to have a conversation. Franklin, I feel as though I have stepped into an ice house. Are you trying to freeze your master?”
“No, My Lady,” Franklin replied.
“Well, in that case, will you stoke the fire? It looks like a crypt in here.”
“Of course, My Lady.” Franklin immediately set out to stoke the fire, after which he lit several candles.
“That is much better. I never thought I would see you in such a wretched state, James. It is pitiful. Pitiful, indeed. Not as pitiful as your wife, however.”
At that, James looked up.
“How is she?” he asked.
Secretly, he didn’t want to know, because he could imagine.
“Dreadful. She is quite undone. She will not leave her room. She will not eat. She will not speak to anybody. She tolerated Marianne’s presence yesterday for about an hour, but she did not say anything.”
“I see,” he sighed. “It pains me to hear that she is not faring well.”
“That’s it? Because I believe you are the author of her misery.”
“Of course I am. That is why I didn’t want to marry in the first place. I am unfit for civilized company.”
“Pish! Piffle! You must stop wallowing in self-pity. It is most unbecoming. Now, tell me what happened, for she will not tell me.”
He shrugged. “She wished to leave.”
Before he knew what was happening, the palm of her hand connected with the back of his head, as though he were a naughty schoolboy.
“Ow!”
“Do not lie to me, James Ellery. That girl did not wish to leave. You sent her away. You sent her away because you were beginning to fall in love with her, no?”
He looked away. “I care for her. I do. But you know that I am not made for marriage.”
“You keep saying that, but you know it’s not true. You have so much to offer. I really wish I understood why you are so averse to marriage, because I know it’s not just because of your brother and that wretched duel.”
He took a deep breath. “There is nothing to tell. It has nothing to do with Marcus or that foolish woman or that wretched duel. It has everything to do with me. I am not fit to be anybody’s husband, and that is the end of it. Now, please, I must have my rest.”
“James—”
“I have made my decision. It is done.”
Aunt Eugenia was silent for a moment, studying him with those sharp eyes that saw far too much.
“You are afraid,” she said finally.
“I am not.”
“You are terrified. I can see it in your eyes. You think that if you love her, you will lose her. Just as you lost your brother.”
He said nothing.
What could he say? She was right.
“But James, my dear boy, you have already lost her. You sent her away. So you are experiencing the very loss you sought to avoid. Quite a self-inflicted wound.”
“Better this way,” he said. “Better now than later when—”
She shook her head. “You are your father’s son, after all. Not in temperament, thank God, but in stubbornness.”
The words hit him harder than the earlier slap.
“I am nothing like my father.”
“No? He died alone and miserable. And here you are, doing the same thing.”
James flinched. “That is not fair.”
“Life is not fair, James. But love—love is a gift. And you are throwing it away out of fear.”
“Then that is the consequence of my action, and I must live with it,” he said with a shrug.
Aunt Eugenia nodded. “Very well. If you insist, I will not force you. But I know that there is something you’re not telling me. This is not your typical behavior, and I will not watch you throw away the best thing that has ever happened to you without a proper explanation.”
He walked her to the door.
“I know you won’t,” he replied. “But for the time being, there is something else I want to ask you. Frances will not accept any money from me.”
“Foolish, prideful girl.” Aunt Eugenia shook her head.
“No, I do not think that she is prideful in the least.”
She looked up at him and scoffed. “I suppose not. Heartbroken is more like it. The girl adores you. You must know that.”
“I do,” he replied. “That is part of the problem. In any case, I want you to keep the money for her so that she cannot return it.”
“Very well,” she relented. “I will.”
She already had one foot through the front door when he called out, “May I ask you for one more thing?”
“One more, one less. What’s the difference?” she said with a shrug. “What is it?”
“Look after her for me, will you?”
She turned and looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Pity? Disappointment? Both?
“I will look after her, James. But you should be the one doing so. You are her husband.”
“In name only. And not for much longer.”
“By your own choice. What of Somerset Trust?”
He shrugged. “Another decision I have to live with. I will see if they can give me an extension. If not, then I shall have to find a way.”
At that, she gave a curt nod and stepped out into the night.
James stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching as her carriage pulled away. Then he closed the door and leaned against it.
The house was silent. Cold. Empty.
Just as he had wanted it.
He made his way to the study and poured himself another glass of whiskey. His hand was shaking.
He had done the right thing. He had protected Frances. Protected himself. This was better. Safer.
So why did it feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest?