Page 96 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

“You are impossible!”

He had found out three days ago what Selina was planning. It had hurt him to learn. Truly, it had felt like a knife plunging into his chest, only to find his heart not there because it had been ripped out days earlier.

To make matters all the worse, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that all of this was his fault.

If Benedict did not care for Selina, then he would not care that she had decided to leave. He might even welcome it. Their marriage had failed, as had its purpose, so what did it matter if she stayed or left? Best that she be gone so he could put the past two months behind him.

But he did not think that way. He tried to make it so. He forced those thoughts and beliefs into his conscience. But they fell flat and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

This might have been the plan from the beginning, but that does not change how wrong it feels. And how much I hate myself for seeing it through.

“Your Grace?” Mr. Harris suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Harris!” Benedict said cheerfully. “What brings you here?”

“I have come to check on you, Your Grace, to make sure that?—”

“That is enough!” Benedict’s anger spiked suddenly, and he let it flare, for there was no good reason to keep it contained. “I will say this one last time to the both of you, is that understood?!” He looked warningly at his butler and his brother. “I am perfectly fine with Selina leaving. I have made my peace with it. And I will not be badgered or cajoled or made to feel as if I am doing something wrong! Do you hear me?!”

Mr. Harris blinked. “Ah… Your Grace. I was simply going to check if you’ll be having supper in the dining room or your study.”

“Oh…” Benedict’s face dropped.

Edmund snorted. “Yes, it seems as if you truly have made peace with it, Brother.” He walked past Benedict. “Harris, I shall be having supper in the dining room.”

“Very good, My Lord.”

“Oh, and Benedict…” Edmund reached where Mr. Harris was standing and then turned back around to face his brother. “You might be wondering why I have been pestering you like this. One would think, with my history, I should be the last person who cares one way or the other about your romantic life.”

Benedict looked at him flatly. “I simply assumed you enjoy torturing me.”

“The opposite, in fact.” Edmund’s smile was soft and caring and, most of all, genuine. “When I saw you the other day, upon my arrival—when you walked out to greet me, arms held out, smiling from ear to ear, do you know what I thought to myself?”

“That you should turn around and run?”

He chuckled. “Close. I thought, who is this man and what has he done with my brother? It was shortly after when I came to realize that your wife was the reason for it, that she had managed to do what no one has since our parents died.”

“Which is?”

“Make you happy,” Edmund said simply. “And call me idealistic, but I suppose I thought that was something worth fighting for. Silly me.” He shrugged, fixed Benedict with a final pitiful look, and then walked away, with Mr. Harris in tow.

Which left Benedict alone, the puppy still on his lap, feeling about as rotten and foolish as he ever had. For three days now, he had desperately tried to convince himself that this was the right thing and that he did not care for Selina. That he was happy his marriage was over!

And while he spoke the words, the very fact that he was out here right now, playing with a puppy that reminded him only of his wife and that day by the stream, should have been enough to tell him where his heart truly lay.

Selina was leaving him. And once she did, she would not come back. And Benedict, the coward and the fool that he was, still refused to do the only thing that might save him and his marriage—admit that he was wrong, put his heart on the line, and give love a final chance.

Was it truly too late, or would he see the error of his ways before Selina left him once and for all? If only he knew.

Epilogue

The day had finally come, and nothing had changed. Not in the way Selina might have liked, anyhow.

“Your Grace.” Mr. Harris stood in the doorway. “Your carriage is ready and waiting.”

“Thank you, Harris.”

She could see it through her bedroom window. Her trunks were packed. The horses were saddled. The coachman was seated and waiting. There would be no more delaying the inevitable.

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