Page 70 of Seven Nights with the Wicked Duke
And he didn't want to break her because he liked seeing her light. He loved how she brought light to the dark corners of his mind. Loved… loved her.
He stiffened at the realization and pulled away from her.
He loved Cecilia?
How?
He shook his head and stood.
"I believe we have come to the end of our arrangement," he told her, rising to dress in his robe. "Come. I will help you dress."
Cecilia wished she had words, or at least could do something to have him change his mind about ending their arrangement but as he led back to the castle and helped her to dress, her mouth opened severally but no words could proceed.
She knew it was for her sake he was ending things but she couldn't summon any joy. Instead, she felt worse than she had when she had decided to make the list and more desperate than when she had asked him to accompany her to parties.
He, on the other hand, seemed as though he had reverted back to his polite treatment of her before he had met her in that dark hallway. His mannerisms were cool and even dressing her, he had said no word nor given her a flirtatious gaze.
When he was done, he leaned back to observe her then nodded.
"I will have my butler call you a hansom so you won't be out in the cold too long," he said with a small smile.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
He nodded, looking as though he wanted to say more but decided against it.
"Have a good night, Your Grace," she said then, forcing the words out past the lump in her throat. "Thank you for… for everything."
He looked at her then, eyes heavy with many unsaid words but he smiled then.
"Be happy, Cecilia."
She nodded even though she felt her heart snapped and moved out of his study, somehow keeping her steps even, though she felt like running.
"Don't forget your coat, my lady," the butler called after her.
She took it and nodded her gratitude, stepping into the street. She entered the hansom the butler had hailed, looking back at his house and hoping she would see him coming after her but the door remained firmly shut and the cobblestone path to the house, empty.
She sighed, leaning back into her seat.
"Let's go," she told the driver.
All through the ride down London's streets, she fought back he sob clawing its way up her throat, placing a hand over her mouth to stop the sound escaping all the while blinking back tears.
Her home loomed in the distance, dark and foreboding, reminding her that once again she would return to the prison she had fought so hard to escape from albeit unsuccessfully.
The tears began to drop when she paid her fare, continuing when she ascended the stairs taking care to be silent as she made her way to her chamber. The familiarity of the action had a sob escaping her so she hurried her steps so she didn't alert her brother.
When she finally stepped into her chambers, all she could do was throw herself in bed and mourn the love that she had never fully experienced but lost already.
"Your Grace, she has departed," Charles, his butler, informed him.
Theo stood by the window staring at the empty roads leading out of his estate. She had long since disappeared but he couldn't bring himself to move away. The urge to go after her and pullher into his arms was strong so he held tightly to the windowsill, willing the feelings away.
"All right," he answered without turning.
"Will that be all, Your Grace?" Charles asked.
It took him a long internal battle with himself to not have him ready his carriage before he finally spoke.
