Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
Alexander
T he fire crackled softly in the hearth, its amber glow casting shifting shadows along the dark wood-paneled walls of the drawing room. Alexander sat in his chair, a heavy crystal tumbler in hand, rolling the amber liquid within it but scarcely drinking. The brandy, usually a comfort at the end of a long day, tasted bitter on his tongue.
The afternoon had been long, and there was no end in sight yet. His mind was restless, his thoughts spiraling inwards to places he did not wish to go. The flickering fire did little to drive away the unease settling deep in his chest. The afternoon with his friends had been unpleasant and he was eager to put it behind him. He had to do something. He had to break with them, did he not? They would never be kind of Lydia.
And Matilda? She’d thought him so miserable in his marriage that he’d engage in tomfoolery with her. No…They were not a good influence on him. He’d always known it but now he had to do something about it.
And where was Lydia? She had been gone for a long time. Had she seen him at the park, he wondered?
Then, through the hush of the night, he heard the unmistakable sound of carriage wheels on the gravel drive. His brow furrowed. He was on his feet before he could think, setting his glass aside. Eammon should be with her.
A knot of concern tightened in his stomach as he strode to the front door, just as it opened with force. Lydia swept inside, her face flushed from the cold, her eyes bright with emotion.
“Lydia—what is wrong?” he asked at once, stepping forward. “Where is Eammon?”
She turned to him sharply, her breath coming quick and shallow. “I sent the groom to bring him to Miss Murphy,” she said. “I did not want him to witness this.”
“Witness what? Why are you so upset?” he asked. There was something in the way she spoke—in the clipped, measured way she formed each word—that sent a fresh ripple of apprehension through him. He had seen her in anger before, in frustration, even in exasperation. But this was different.
He was about to ask what had happened when she drew herself up and fixed him with a piercing look.
“Tell me the truth, Alexander,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “Did you tell your friends that I was desperate to marry you? Did you have an affair with Matilda, one you sought to renew? Did you … are you ashamed of me?”
The words hit him like a physical blow.
He froze, feeling the breath leave him in an instant.
His throat worked as he swallowed, his mind racing to find the right response. But there was no easy answer. The truth sat heavy on his tongue, unspoken yet undeniable.
“Lydia—”
“Did you?” she demanded, stepping closer. The firelight flickered against her skin, casting golden shadows along the curve of her cheek, but there was no warmth in her gaze.
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “I… No…. I did not….I mean….” He did not know which of her questions to answer first. Each was a spark poised over a barrel of gunpowder. “Matilda and I were once involved in a fleeting affair but…”
“So she spoke the truth. And what about everything else? Did you marry me because you thought I was desperate enough to do whatever you wanted? That you could continue your ways of debauchery while I was chained to the stove? Did you tell them that was your plan for me?”
“I do not always say things I mean when I am with them,” he said, feeling hot and miserable. Matilda. Why? Why did she do this to him?
A short, humorless laugh escaped her lips. “So you did tell them. You let them believe I was some silly, grasping girl who begged you to marry her.”
“No!” His voice was sharp, defensive. He took a step forward, reaching for her, but she flinched back. The sight of it nearly undid him.
“I did not know you then, Lydia. I didn’t mean it…”
“Then why did you not introduce me to them today? You rushed them away as though I were a leper, did you not?”
He could not lie for he had done exactly that though not for the reasons she thought.
“It is not as it appears, Lydia. I…”
She shook her head, her expression filled with something that twisted painfully in his chest—hurt, betrayal.
Alexander felt a hollow sort of regret settle over him, thick and suffocating. He had never thought this moment would come, had never believed that words spoken long ago, half in foolishness, would come back to haunt him like this.
Lydia’s voice was quieter when she spoke again, but the weight of it was crushing.
“And what about Matilda?”
His breath hitched. The very name sent a fresh wave of dread through him.
“You already admitted to an affair. Did you try to tempt her to your bed again? Ah, let me guess. ‘It is not as easy as that, there is an explanation,’” she mimicked and scoffed before pacing the room, her half boots clacking on the floor.
The fire crackled loudly in the silence that followed.
Alexander’s jaw tightened. He turned away for a moment, staring into the dancing flames as if they might provide an escape from the truth pressing down upon him.
“It is as I said. There was something between us, once,” he admitted at last, the words slow and careful. “But it was never what you think. I did not take advantage of her, Lydia. Or you.”
The breath she let out was shaky. He turned back just in time to see her press a hand to her forehead, her shoulders rising and falling with each labored inhale.
“But you did. It was your intention to take advantage of me and my miserable reputation. You looked at me and thought “ah there she is, the cursed bride. She will do. She will be amiable. She will do as I please while I hop from bed to bed,” she hissed.
The silence stretched between them, unbearably heavy. He wanted to defend himself but he didn’t have the words. How could he explain to her that he had said some of these unkind words? That he had been this foolish? How could he tell her he meant some of the things but no longer did? That he loved and cherished her now but did not then, not when he said some things that were purely selfish and simply false.
Alexander exhaled, his gaze softening. “Matilda should not have said these things to you. She is angry at me for choosing you. I’ve been a fool. I have…”
“I do not wish to hear more, Alexander. Only this. Did you tell them that you were marrying me because I am desperate? That I should be your shield to continue your philandering ways?”
“I said that but ….But Lydia… it is all different now. You are the only woman I have ever truly wanted. You must believe that.”
Her fingers trembled beneath his touch.
She looked away, her breath coming unsteadily. “If you meant all of this, then why did you rush away today?”
Guilt twisted in his gut. He tightened his grip on her hand, his voice rough with desperation. “I did not want you to meet them because they do not understand us. They…”
“Perhaps if you had acted like a husband from the start, they would understand. I think the truth is that you are ashamed of me still. The cursed bride, good only for raising your ward.”
“No…”
She exhaled shakily. “I need time,” she whispered. “I am leaving. I will be at my father’s home for the time being.”
He did not know what to say or do and so he only nodded – and watched her go as the words he’d meant to say, the words he needed to say, swirled around his head, as useless as a bucket of sand before a wildfire.