Chapter 22
“Ibelieve I have tried everything possible under the sun,” Madeline muttered to herself.
What was it with Kenneth that had her talking to herself in her bedchamber? She folded her arms across her chest, feeling her throat tighten.
“Dessert. Pretending to be ill. An afternoon picnic. What else can I do? What do I have to show for my efforts? A beautiful, stained gown, and this... this ache...”
She stopped herself. There was the bitter joke of it, the part she could not say aloud even to her own reflection.
She had set out to make Kenneth feel something.
She had schemed, provoked, and tempted him at every turn, certain she could crack his cold composure and prove there was a heart beneath it.
And she had failed at that entirely. The only heart her plan had cracked open was her own.
Somewhere between the picnic and the night he held her while she wept, she had fallen in love with her husband—hopelessly, completely—and he had not fallen at all.
“Kenneth is not just behind the walls of Huntington House,” she whispered. “He has become the walls.”
Madeline had wondered how she might push him further, so that he would feel more. More emotion. More for her. When he had held her, she had been certain he was on the verge of saying something more than that he did not dislike her—that the word he was reaching for was a far warmer one.
But perhaps the fault was hers. Perhaps he was capable of love after all, only not for her. Perhaps it belonged to someone else entirely. The thought left her more wretched than she could ever admit aloud.
She looked out through her window before going downstairs, spying on Malcolm running with his children. His laughter blended with theirs under the bright morning sun. He seemed to look lighter, as if his burdens had been lifted even for a moment.
At least someone is actually happy.
Madeline forced a smile as she rushed downstairs.
She did not really feel like running with them this time, but she wanted to watch the young family enjoy their afternoon together.
When she stood there by the balustrade, watching Emily and Alexander chase after a passing rabbit, her mind must have drifted off because she was surprised by the crunch of gravel as somebody approached.
It was Malcolm.
He gave her a genuine smile, although his eyes seemed to be questioning what she was doing there. Madeline realized that her shoulders were slumped and her face must have betrayed her.
“Enjoying your morning?” he asked her inquisitively.
“Not as much as you, but I am enjoying it well enough.”
“You were watching us from the window,” he said, coming to lean against the balustrade beside her.
“And now you have come down looking as though someone has died, and you are trying to smile through your tears. This is not the face of a woman enjoying her morning.” He studied her a moment longer, and his smile faded into something more knowing. “It is him, is it not?”
“Ah, you are unbelievably perceptive today. Are my thoughts that obvious?” she asked warily, as she tried to give him a real smile.
“Well, you look as if you are carrying the weight of Huntington House on your shoulders,” he replied softly.
There was no mocking in his voice at all.
“I have been noticing the two of you getting closer, then trying to avoid each other. I can see the disappointment on your face. I did warn you, Madeline. I told you there was no point in trying with my brother. He is not capable of the grand romance some women want or need.”
“I do not need a grand romance,” Madeline insisted, even as she remembered that she used to. Now, it seemed that she just wanted some sign that Kenneth would care just a little. She did not exactly want scraps, but she was willing to be more realistic. “I just need him to feel... something for me.”
Malcolm sighed.
“Even if he has not shown you the attention you want and deserve, I believe that Kenneth truly cares for you.”
“Cares for me?” Madeline laughed breathily.
“Perhaps. He thinks of me as an owner who cares for his prized horses or a physician who cares for his patients. He told me I looked well, while I had made sure to dress my best for my sister’s ball.
That is how far his affection, if we can call it that, can go.
” Her breaths came shakily this time. She did not like showing all these feelings to Malcolm, but here they were.
“I want more from this marriage than he can ever give me. It is probably my fault for thinking a man who found a bride through an advertisement would ever see his wife as someone he cannot bear to live without. Perhaps I could make peace with that. What we have is a partnership, and nothing more.”
Malcolm looked at her gently. “And do you think you can live with that? This kind of life?”
“I honestly do not know,” she admitted, her chest tightening at the thought of living years of this loneliness. Years of uncertainty about what she meant to her husband. Still, she was more fortunate than other women. Others had been married off to men who were old, or cruel, or both.
But she could not think clearly here. Kenneth was on the other side of every wall, and there was no room in the house where the memory of him did not find her—the picnic, the dining room, every single place he had touched her.
The thought had been forming for days, and now it seemed like the only option.
“I think I should go to my family for a little while,” she said. “Only for a few days. Just long enough to breathe, and to sort out what I feel before it swallows me whole. I do not seem able to do that under this roof.”
Malcolm nodded in silent understanding. Madeline looked him up and down, smiling as she remembered what he and his children were doing when she saw them from upstairs earlier.
“I am incredibly happy to see you doing better, Malcolm. The children are even more glowing at being able to play with their papa.”
He was startled. Something shifted in his eyes as he swallowed hard. “Kenneth told me about your father, Madeline. I mean, I had already been acquainted with him, but I did not realize... I had no idea how much his behavior had hurt you and your family.”
“He did?” she asked, not quite knowing what to feel about that.
“Yes,” Malcolm confirmed, nodding. “We talked in his study. He did not mince words about what happened to Harleigh and how his drinking and gambling had been affecting the whole family. I... It shifted something in me. I do not want to do the same thing to my children. I have to change before it is too late.”
“I am so glad that something good came out of this,” she whispered, revealing a small, watery smile. “Truly, Malcolm.”
Their talk did nothing to lessen her need to be away for a while; if anything, it sharpened it. Still, when the moment came, leaving was not as simple as she had imagined.
She packed a small trunk herself and drew her traveling cloak about her shoulders.
At the door of her chamber, she paused, looking back at the room that had never quite become hers.
She told herself she ought to send word to Kenneth, or go to his study and tell him to his face. She owed him that much as his wife.
But she could not bear it. She did not think she could stand in front of him, look into that unreadable face, and explain that she was leaving because she loved him and could not make him love her back. So she simply left and did not let herself look back until the house was behind her.
If Madeline had any qualms about leaving, they were gone when she arrived at the Marlow estate. The front doors did not merely open for her. They burst outward in glee. Before she could even emerge from the carriage, she could already hear a cacophony of shrieks.
She had missed her family, and seeing her loud and chaotic sisters washed away some of her worries. Portia and Selina ran to her, bouncing with the force of their hugs. They flew down the stone steps, disregarding any rule of decorum.
“Maddy!” Portia cried, flinging her arms around Madeline’s neck as soon as her feet touched the ground.
“We thought we had to wait for His Grace to let you attend another ball to see you!” Selina added, wedging herself into her sisters’ embrace.
With the violent greetings came the comforting scent of lemon biscuits and lavender. She almost sobbed at how much she had missed those and what they represented: a loving home.
“Bring her inside before you all catch a chill!” Lady Marlow called from the house.
It truly felt like a homecoming. Madeline noticed the change as soon as she crossed the threshold into what felt like a different world.
While Huntington House seemed like a showcase of wealth and class, her family home felt more alive.
Its warmth came not only from the fire crackling in the hearth but also from the sweet aromas and lively conversations among loved ones.
Madeline’s heart ached as she entered the drawing room and felt the subtle signs of her family’s genteel poverty.
She wished she could do more for her family, but it felt like a problem that would always be there, since her grandparents were already too old and charitable to a fault.
And her father? She scoffed softly at the thought and shook her head.
Soon, they were all seated in the drawing room, enjoying a casual snack of rolls and butter.
A tray was placed on the low table surrounded by soft, velvet chairs.
Madeline could not help but think that this arrangement would not work in Huntington’s house’s formal setting.
She tried to imagine lounging with Kenneth in the drawing room, eating cake. Her head hurt.
“Maddy, please pass the butter before Selina takes more for her third roll,” Portia said from across the table, her voice interrupting Madeline’s thoughts. “She should not be eating too much so close to dinner if she wishes to fit into her future wedding dress.”