Page 76 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

Frederick could not explain what came over him in that moment. Thoughts, memories of the last week flooded him, the realization that as happy as he had been, he would never feel that happiness again. Her hands on his face, her breath filling his nostrils, her body shaking mere inches away, and all he could think was that he needed to kiss her a final time, to know how that felt because he would never get to again.

And he did.

He leaned in and brought her face to his own. His lips touched hers softly. She sucked in as if breathing him in for the last time, body stiff, still shaking but calming slightly as their tongues lapped and their hands held one another. They kissed passionately and deeply. They kissed as if it was their first time, not their last. They kissed as if the world was about to end, and they were the only two in it.

And when Frederick pulled away, he knew that it would be the last time that he ever tasted Miss Dunn on his lips, and that, perhaps, hurt the most.

“I want you gone,” he said, his voice a whisper, speaking past her because he could not bear to look at her.

“Your Grace…” she sobbed gently, body heaving.

“When I leave here, I will collect my grandmother and daughter for supper,” he continued, forcing the words, each one like acid on his tongue. “Once we are in the dining room, you are to pack your things and leave.”

“Please…”

“Take one of my carriages. Direct the driver to wherever you need to go, I do not care. But you are to leave here tonight. And do not dare come back.”

He could see her trying to talk. Between the sobs. Between the moans of pain and agony. He could literally sense the words forming on her lips only to fade into nothingness before leaving them. Unable to look at him, head bowed, she wept and shuddered and withdrew in on herself—a sight that broke Frederick like nothing else.

In the end, all she could do was nod her understanding, for words and reason had left her.

And Frederick, knowing he had to leave now, for he was not strong enough to stay, turned and strode toward the door. He made sure to stand tall, to look in control and powerful as he unlocked the door, threw it open, and stormed out. But incontrol, powerful… these were as far from how he felt as was possible.

He had no doubt that Miss Dunn was hurting. Even if she had been lying, he sensed that her pain was real, that perhaps the lie had become lost in her reality, and there were feelings there that she did not expect. But it did not matter as Frederick was surely hurting even more than she was.

And for that, he would never forgive her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Caroline’s entire body hurt such that she thought she was going to die. That she wanted to die! The way she ached. The way it felt as if her chest was about to cave in, as if her lungs were about to collapse, as if her heart might burst. Surely, even death could not be as bad as this?

She wept openly. She let the tears pour down her face, not caring how it might look, for she was alone, so why not let them come? Alone in this world so suddenly, not so much as a soul to turn to. Alone where she sat, the walls of the carriage slowly closing in around her so that she felt suffocated, so that she could barely breathe.

The world was not ending, but it felt as if it might. And what was more, she welcomed it.

It was only five minutes ago that she left the Dukedom of Thornton for what she knew would be for the last time. Once His Grace had stormed from the room, she had somehow managed to stumble back to her room and collect her things—not that shetook much, only the little money she had and a cloak to keep her warm. It was more than she felt that she deserved.

From there, she had made her way outside without being spotted. Walked to the stables and asked for a carriage to take her. When asked where she wished to go exactly, she had frozen, for she had realized suddenly that she had nowhere to go. No friends. No family. Nothing in this world whatsoever.

“An inn,” she had managed to say through her ever-present sobbing. “The closest inn to the estate.”

The stable hand had looked at her curiously. “Perhaps I should ask His Grace if?—”

“No!” she had cried, forcing herself to act more composed. “He is aware of my leaving. A carriage, thank you. And be quick about it.”

Two minutes later, and she was tucked into the back of a carriage, feeling it rattle as it raced from the estate to places unknown. Alone in said carriage for the first time, Caroline was given time to think… to understand the true hopelessness of her plight and how epically she had failed.

It was always going to come to this, and as she sat in the back of that carriage crying for what was lost, Caroline realized that this was all her fault. Oh, she might have liked to have blamed His Grace somehow, perhaps Lady Tattershell too for telling him who she was, but those accusations felt hollow and underserved.This was on her and her alone, and her only regret was that she hadn’t told His Grace herself.

She thought of that kiss and what it meant, still feeling him on her lips, the love that she knew he bore for her but was unable to give because he no longer trusted her. And rightly so.

She thought of Esther and Isabella, what they would think when His Grace told them the truth. Esther would be shocked. Isabella might not believe it at first. But eventually she would, and she would come to understand that she had been lied to, thinking that their friendship was not real, for how could a real friend lie like that?

She thought of all the times that she could have and should have told His Grace the truth. Even just now, when he gave her a chance to explain why she had done what she had done, and she had baulked for fear had held her back. She was a coward, she knew, running as always because it seemed easy. While deep down she could wonder if perhaps things would be different had she told him earlier who she was, she also knew that was never really an option. This here was the end that she should have always expected.

As to why she could not tell him the truth? Why she was so afraid? Who she was and what she was doing? That was a story perhaps even sadder than this one.

Caroline hadn’t been left at the altar by a man who had fallen in love with a maid. And her father hadn’t decided to ship her off to a nunnery to save the family name embarrassment. Thatconcocted tale, told the first night she met Esther, was almost pleasant compared to the truth.

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