Chapter 25 #2
“If he loves you, he will forgive you,” Jenny coaxed, placing an uncertain hand on Alice’s shoulder. “And he does love you. No man who doesn’t love his wife would behave in such a way.”
“But what if he doesn’t love me?” Alice’s lip trembled. “What if he treated me well all out of guilt and duty, and now he feels no more obligation to do so because he thinks I betrayed him?”
Jenny shook her head resolutely. “If you were able to hurt him, that means he cares. Only an indifferent man would care nothing for something like this.”
“And if this hurt is enough to make him no longer wish to be my husband? In truth, not just in name.”
“I doubt that is the case, Your Grace,” Jenny smiled weakly. “But if it is, remember, you have the rest of your life together to win him back around. Just as he did. And you can start by repairing the damage.”
Alice drew in a long, shaky breath. It would be difficult for her to repair the damage to their relationship if he refused to be seen with her again, which she suspected was likely. But she would try.
But first, she needed to know just how terrible the damage was.
“Send the letter,” she told Jenny. “Then we can see about making a change.”
Frederick found it impossible to concentrate on his work. This desk had been where he’d taken Alice. He’d tasted her in the armchair by the fire as she’d watched him with heavy lids. They’d laughed here, and she’d even begun helping him with his numbers.
At the thought, another lancing wave of hurt rocked him, and he dropped his pen, pinching his nose.
This situation was untenable.
He could hardly stop her from acting as she chose—and he would never do that—but it didn’t mean he should be around to let her hurt him like that again.
This was the last time he would trust her to be on his side. Evidently, the damage he’d caused her ran too deep. But this was his father’s legacy she was damaging, not just him. Some things could not be forgiven.
She understood that better than he had, clearly.
And he, fool that he was, had not seen her deception. He had believed her silken lies. Had hoped, because it was all he had ever wanted, that she could love him in return, in time. He had not thought she loved him yet, but he had thought…
Dimly, he wondered if a person could perish from this.
Because he loved her. In trying to win her over, he had offered her his heart on a platter.
And she had crushed it.
Unable to bear sitting—unable to bear his own house—any longer, he rose and strode out to the hallway.
Alice was descending the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, her stick under her arm.
When she saw him, she caught her breath.
Her eyes looked swollen, as though she had been crying, and she swallowed convulsively.
He fought back the urge to reach for her.
If she had been miserable, then that was only because she had behaved in a way that made her so.
He could not afford to offer her sentimentality. If he did, he would lose himself to her all over again, handing her the means by which to hurt him. Even if watching her distress made the pain in his chest still more acute.
“Frederick.” She reached out her hands to him, but he stepped back.
The hurt that crossed her face at the gesture nearly cut him in two.
“You have to believe me when I say I would never do this to you. I know how much this means to you, and I was just—” She blinked her eyes, which were now glossy with tears.
“I was just learning what it meant to be happy again with you.”
“Your friend accused me of blackmail,” he said tightly.
“She clearly knew every aspect of how our marriage came about. How would she have known that without you telling her?” He stepped closer, taking her elbow when it looked as though she would wobble and fall.
“You want me to believe you, but all the evidence points to a deliberate desecration of my character. You could not have ruined me more utterly if you had tried, my darling.”
Her face creased, and she gasped a sob. “Frederick, please—”
“Do not try to win me over with your hurt.” He released her gently. “You are my wife, and I will still see to all your needs, but I cannot give you any more of myself.”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
He wished he didn’t have to. If he could, he would stay with her for the remainder of his days. But how much of him would be left once she had finished with him?
He owed his father more than that.
At every juncture, he felt torn in two. His obligation to her. The dreadful way she had hurt him. His obligation to his father, and the devastation that his father had never seen who he had become.
“I must go,” he muttered, and nodded to one of the footmen. “Please see to all Her Grace’s needs.”
“Where are you going?” She clutched at his arm, trying to tug him back into her. As though she could seduce him so easily. He was made of sterner stuff; the thing that had drawn him so much to her was not merely her body but the mind that accompanied it. Her strength.
And yet, he wanted to sink back into her.
This love was poison. He could sleep for ten years and still not be free of it.
He shook himself away. “I have a reputation to manage and uphold. My political future hangs by a thread, Alice. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.
” He glanced over his shoulder to where she stood, pale-faced and distraught in the middle of his hallway.
“Do as you must, wife. I will not stand in your way.”
When he left, he rather thought he left his heart behind him where she stood.