Page 77 of His Runaway Duchess

“Am I in trouble, Your Grace?” Joan ventured, glancing briefly up.

“What? No, no, of course not, Joan. You were being loyal to your mistress, although I wish you could have mentioned it to me.”

“She specifically told me not to, Your Grace.”

“Of course. Of course. Well, why don’t you sit here with Alex? If Daphne isn’t coming down to supper, I might as well take my meal with him.”

Joan paused. “Will Lady Clarissa eat alone, then?”

Edward felt a wave of guilt so intense that it made him swallow. How could he have forgotten about her? Did he really take her for granted so often?

“We shall invite Lady Clarissa to eat with us in here,” he said. “Excuse me, Joan.”

He pushed past the hapless maid and strode away down the corridor.

It was dark and notably cold after the warmth of Alex’s little parlor. He had been a little shocked to discover that his son not only knew how to play chess but was also good at it. Worryingly good.

“I hope you aren’t letting me win, Papa,” Alex had said, narrowing his eyes at him.

Edward had grimaced. “Don’t worry, son. I’m not.”

She’s sulking, that’s all.She’s gone to clear her head. She’ll be back when she decides to forgive me.

She will forgive me, won’t she?

He burst into his study and saw the letter at once. It sat in the middle of the table, weighed down with the jade-handled letter opener. Snatching it up, he tore it open and began to read.

Edward,

I’m writing this letter in a hurry. You’ll know by now that I have packed up my things and taken the carriage. I won’t tell you where I am going, although I’m sure you can guess easily enough. I intend to live life as a spinster, as you always wished, and it seemed expedient to take myself away.

You see, I won’t be able to stay with you and keep my opinions to myself. I feel that you are doing many things wrong in raising your son and living your life, and while I don’t intend to criticize, I can see how you might think of it that way. I promised no more advice, so I shan’t give any, only that I hope you’ll listen to Lady Clarissa, and Peter and Mrs. Trench, and that you’ll try and pay attention to what Alex wants.

I hope he recovers well, and if you remember, do write me a few brief notes about his recovery.

My only regret is leaving without saying goodbye to Alex. I know it was cowardly, but I couldn’t face him. He would be better off without me, I think, as will you. Besides, you were in there with him, playing chess, and I thought you might have tried to prevent me from leaving. Tell him, if you will, that I care about him and I’m sorry for everything. It’s all a mess,and I kept thinking that I could tidy it all up if only I tried hard enough.

I like to fix things, you see. I did it with my sister, taking her place at the altar, and we all know how that turned out. I don’t think I can fix you, Edward, because you do not wish to be fixed. And besides, it’s none of my business.

Anyway, I’m rambling. This was only meant to be a short note, can you believe it? I’m sure you’ll consider yourself well rid of me. Perhaps our paths will cross again, or perhaps they won’t. Either way, Edward, I think this is goodbye. There’s a virtue in knowing when to give up, after all.

Daphne.

Edward read the whole letter again as if there might have been some sentences he’d overlooked, as if he’d somehow misinterpreted the whole thing.

He hadn’t.

He sat down with a thump, crumpling the letter in his hand.

She’s gone. She’s left me. Gone to her mother’s or her sister’s house. I won’t be welcome there, for sure. She hasn’t forgiven me. I went too far.

How am I going to tell Alex?

A throat was cleared in the doorway, and he flinched, glancing over to see a pale Joan watching him.

“Lady Clarissa is asking for you, Your Grace,” she whispered. “Supper is getting cold. When is the Duchess coming home?”

Edward closed his eyes. “She isn’t.”

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