Page 97 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

She sighed as she started toward the bedroom door. The room behind her was bare, as if she had never been there, and that was how she liked it. No sense in leaving anything behind—best to scrub any sigh of her presence from this manor entirely, as she was certain that was what her husband would want.

“And His Grace?” she asked in vain, feeling that she should—that it was right to do, even if there was no point.

“He is in his study, Your Grace. But he has been alerted that you are leaving today. Shall I speak with him? Perhaps he has lost track of time.”

Selina stepped into the hallway and cast her glance down its length, looking in the direction of her husband’s study. She had no doubt that Benedict was aware of her departure today and that if he wished it, he would come and see her off. Or better than that…

No. He has had a week to say something, yet he has avoided me like the plague. His decision is clear, and there will be no changing it.

“It is perfectly fine, Harris.” She smiled at the butler. “Do not waste your time disturbing him. I am sure that he is hard at work.”

Mr. Harris’ weathered face looked pained, and Selina was certain that he at least would miss her. As she would miss him.

“It has been a pleasure to serve you, Your Grace,” he said. “Truly, an honor.”

“As it has been to be served by you,” she responded with a genuine smile. “Now, shall we?”

She kept that smile as she walked down the hallway for what would be the final time.

Selina had wondered if Benedict might change his mind and try to stop her. And she had wondered what she would do and say if he did. A small part of her wished to remain spiteful, claiming that if he came for her, she would still deny him because of what he had put her through this past week. As if she might find some sort of pleasure in being the one to turn him down a final time.

As she walked down the steps and into the foyer, casting a glance back toward the hall, her heart racing because there was still a chance… No. She knew deep down that if Benedict came for her, she would accept him with open arms.

It had taken her a week to admit it fully, but it seemed that Selina was not over her husband in the way that she had wished. She loved him, and her heart broke because he did not love her back.

How had it come to this, she did not know.

Benedict sat in his study, alone. The curtains were drawn. The door was closed. A single candle was lit, shrouding him in darkness in a way that matched his mood perfectly.

A few more minutes. That is all I must wait for. A few more minutes and this will finally be over…

He knew what day it was. And he knew what was happening right now, just beyond where he sat. His wife was leaving him once and for all. Likely, he would never see her again. Out of sight, out of mind, and then he would finally be able to put her behind him, where she belonged.

That was what he wanted. He told himself this again and again. If he did not want it, then he would have done something. He would have gone to her. He would have laid his pride down and told her how he felt. He would have apologized, begged for her forgiveness, admitted that he was wrong and asked what he needed to do to change her mind.

But he did not want such things. More than that,shedid not want them. So, what was even the point in thinking about it?

He had no idea what time it was, but surely she would be gone soon? Perhaps she was already? That thought alone had his chest tightening and his stomach sinking, and he very nearly rose from his desk and left his study to confirm.

Feeling a need to distract himself, he turned to a mound of letters that sat on the desk. They had piled up quickly this week, but he had not been in the mood to read them. Really, he had not been in the mood for much of anything. Unable to concentrate. Unable to eat. He told himself it was anger that did it, fury at being treated this way. But deep down, he knew the truth…

Benedict opened the first letter, groaning as he read its contents. It was an invitation to a dinner party next week. He scoffed and dropped the letter to the floor.

Do not waste my time.

The next letter he opened was an invitation to a garden party, also next week. Again, he dropped that letter to the floor.

A waste of ink as much as it was a waste of valuable seconds of my life.

By the third letter, he was beginning to sense a theme. Another social invite, another lord he did not care for wishing to curry favor by having him at a party or a gathering. A lord who, just two months ago, would not have dared to invite him to such an event, for it had been known that Benedict did not waste time on trivial matters like parties and dinners and promenades.

His marriage to Selina had clearly changed the ton’s perception of him.

He could not help but chuckle at that notion. Was that not the entire point in the first place? Was that not what he wanted? For the ton to be fooled into thinking that he and Selina were happily wed so that they would not gossip about him behind his back?

Funny that before he got married, Benedict cared so much about other people’s opinions. He wanted their respect. He felt that desire to live up to his parents’ legacy. But he did notcareabout other people, and he was happy that they more often than not chose to pretend that he did not exist. It was an easier state of being.

Now that he and Selina had parted ways, he would be able to return to that same state of being—living alone, isolated from the world, falling into ignominy…

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