Chapter 29
Susan stood frozen outside the cracked door of the sitting room, feeling as though her heart might shatter into a million pieces.
She couldn’t believe what she had heard.
Things were complicated between her and Norman.
That was no secret. But after that kiss, she had thought she understood things more clearly.
It had certainly explained his reasoning for getting so upset about what had happened at Montgomery.
He hadn’t been worried about scandal, she thought—he had been jealous.
It was a glow she had carried around deep in her chest from the moment she’d recognized the truth of it.
But now that glow faded from her, to be replaced by a cold, hard stone.
That I don’t love her is irrelevant to what I must do, he had said.
It was perfectly clear. There was no room for interpretation in those four words.
I don’t love her.
Her mind cried out against the knowledge. It hurt terribly.
He kissed me! How can he act as if there was nothing in that?
But then, there was no reason to think that the kiss had meant the same thing to him as it had to her.
Not that I even know what it meant to me—but I know it meant something.
I know it made me look at him differently.
Consider my feelings for him in a new light.
I assumed that he shared that experience. Now I don’t know.
Maybe for Norman, the kiss had simply been an impulsive thing.
She knew that he found her pretty enough.
Maybe he had simply wanted to kiss someone, and had realized his wife was the best choice for such a thing.
Maybe he had done it to stop her talking.
There could be any number of reasons. She had only assumed that his kiss had come from some sort of feeling.
Even if it was true that he had been jealous after her actions at the Montgomery ball, that didn’t mean his kiss indicated any sort of affection for her. It might just mean that he wanted to remind her who she belonged to.
It worked, if so. He had taken up full-time residence in her thoughts since then.
And now he was in his sitting room telling his aunt that he didn’t love her.
“I don’t see how you can claim to be truly happy with someone you don’t love, Norman,” Lady Keethroad was saying.
Susan longed to be angry with Lady Keethroad for once more coming over and trying to convince Norman that their marriage was a bad one.
But now, for the first time, she felt a chasm opening up within her at the thought of Lady Keethroad’s comments.
This wasn’t just rudeness. Lady Keethroad was genuinely concerned about Norman’s happiness.
Because she knows that he is married to someone he doesn’t love, and she wants better for him. Of course she does. She is his aunt; there’s no reason she would be willing to see him settle for less than perfect happiness… settle for me.
She’d heard enough. It would hurt too much to stand here listening any longer. She backed away from the door on tiptoes, then turned and fled to her room.
What a fool she had been! Ignoring him all this time…
A part of her had imagined, dreamed, that he was wondering why she was doing that.
That he was missing her, hoping she would break her silence.
Longing for her, even. And now she was forced to accept that it had never been that way for him.
He might not have even noticed that she was keeping her distance, but if he had noticed it, he wouldn’t have been sad. He might even have been relieved.
She felt sick.
There was a knock at the door. One of the maids entered the room. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said. “I saw you return home, and I know that you like to take tea at this hour of the afternoon, so I took the liberty of bringing up a cart.”
“Thank you…” Susan frowned. “I don’t know you. You don’t usually tend to me.”
“My name is Catherine, Your Grace.”
Susan nodded. “Thank you, Catherine.”
She sat down at the window and waited to be served. When the cup of tea was in her hands, she took a slow sip, relishing its warmth and waiting for it to ease the pain of what had just happened.
But no ease came.
Instead, the dreadful words played over and over in her mind.
I don’t love her. I don’t love her.
Something crystallized within Susan, hard and painful.
This was what her mother had felt when she’d realized that marriage to Susan’s father was never going to be what she’d hoped for.
And Leah. She had believed herself to be in love with her husband. She had thought he loved her in return. My situation isn’t that bad, Susan forcibly reminded herself. At least Norman has never harmed me physically. I’m not frightened of him. I’m just…
Heartbroken.
That was the word she didn’t want to admit to, not even in her own mind. That was the thing she had worked all her life to avoid, the reason she had made the decision not to marry in the first place. She had been afraid of getting her heart broken. She had known just how likely it was.
She had believed it couldn’t happen to her in this marriage of convenience.
What a terrible twist of fate.
I can’t stay here any longer. I can’t live my life if I’m afraid of running into him around every corner. If I have to see him every day, look into his eyes, and recall how I wanted there to be love between us and was disappointed, it will destroy me.
“Catherine,” she said, “I need your help.”
“Of course, Your Grace. How may I help you?”
“I need to pack some of my things,” Susan explained. “I need my clothes folded and arranged in my trunk. And I’ll need to speak to a footman about arranging a carriage for me.”
“Are you going on a trip, then, Your Grace?” Catherine moved toward the wardrobe.
“Yes,” Susan said. “I’m going to visit my sister, Marina. She has graciously invited me to stay with her for a few days.”
A few days that are likely to turn into a much longer stay—but there’s no point in telling the staff that. Given that I’m not sure I mean to return at all, it’s better that they don’t know of my plans. Then they can’t incur Norman’s anger for neglecting to tell him what I was doing.
“Is there anything in particular you want to pack?” Catherine asked Susan as she opened the wardrobe. “You have such lovely things. How many days do you mean to be away? And will you be attending any special events during that time? Perhaps we ought to pack your finer things.”
“No, that isn’t necessary,” Susan said.
She knew that was a risk. There was no predicting how the next few days were going to go. It was entirely possible that, once she left, she would never set foot in Heathmare again. Anything that was left behind might be lost.
That doesn’t matter. Things can be replaced. If I remain here, with this man who doesn’t love me and who has somehow convinced me to love him, I’ll lose something more important than gowns. I will lose my sanity.
“I won’t need any of my fine gowns,” she said. “Simple clothes will be fine. I don’t expect any occasions.”
“Your sister won’t be having a party while you’re with her?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Susan said. “My sister is recently married, and will prefer a bit of peace and quiet. I’m not even sure I should be disturbing her solitude with her new husband, truth be told—but she’s invited me, and I do long to see her.”
“Well, of course you do,” Catherine said with a smile as she folded one of Susan’s dresses and tucked it into the trunk.
“I’m just the same way with my sister. It’s been six months since I saw her, and I count the days until I’m able to do so once more.
You’re very fortunate to have this time with your sister, Your Grace. ”
“I know I am,” Susan agreed fervently. She was lucky indeed.
Only this morning, Marina had made a comment about Susan coming to stay and assured her that she wouldn’t be any sort of burden if she did.
Susan had believed Marina then, and that meant she could believe now that her sister would welcome her with open arms.
And it would allow her to get away from Norman. At long last, the chaotic marriage would come to an end, and Susan would be able to let go of all her fears about what would happen when the marriage inevitably turned sour.
It’s already sour. The rot set in quickly. At least I’m going to be able to go, and at least I didn’t waste years of my life with this man—or worse yet, have a baby with him. If I was the mother of his child, I wouldn’t be able to leave.
She would try to be grateful to him for breaking her heart quickly. That was one good thing in all of this. Her apprehension about marriage had always involved a slow decay over many years. At least she was going to be spared that.
Susan moved about the room, gathering her things. Her hairbrush from the vanity, a book from the nightstand. Every time she picked something up, she went to her trunk and tucked it in alongside the clothing Catherine was folding and placing inside.
“I think I will leave first thing in the morning,” she decided. “Before I go, I will pass one more night here, and I will do my best to remember the good times.”
“But, Your Grace,” Catherine protested, “you’ll be back before too long. You speak as though you were never going to see this place again.”
Susan cursed herself. “Of course,” she said quickly. “You’re quite right, Catherine—I will be back very soon. I only meant that… I will miss Heathmare so much while I’m gone that I want to make sure to commit it to memory.”
That part was completely true.
She would miss this place terribly.
The very walls seemed to carry echoes of her arguments with Norman, of the times they had conspired together, of the laughter and the chess games and the night she had spent in his bed.
The kiss in the foyer, when passion had finally gotten the better of them.
She would remember these things. She would carry them with her.
But she couldn’t allow them to dominate her. She had to let go of the romantic hopes that had built up around her, each one like a wave crashing over her and filling her with excitement and delight. Now that the tide was receding, leaving her high and dry.
It was never real. I imagined it. There was never anything between us, so nothing has been lost.
She knew that it was true. But even so, it hurt her to admit it to herself, because she was forced to admit now that she had badly wanted his feelings to be real.
In the end, everyone had fallen for the lies.
Even Susan herself.
She sat on the bed and watched as Catherine packed away her things. Tomorrow, she would leave for Marina’s home, and this nightmare would begin to fade. The farther she got from it, the less it would hurt.
But for now, she was forced to remain here, in the middle of the storm.