Page 61 of His Godsent Duchess
Christina shook her head, her breath hitching as she struggled to form words. "He's… gone," she whispered, her voice broken, barely audible. "The Duke... he's left me."
Addison's arm tightened around her. "Gone? Left you? Surely you don't mean…?"
Christina let out a hollow, bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolved into another sob. "Yes, for good. He told me himself. We are to live separately for the rest of our lives." Her voice cracked, and she covered her face again, the humiliation, the devastation too much to bear.
Addison's face softened with sympathy, her hand gently rubbing Christina's arm in a soothing gesture. "Oh, Your Grace… no… surely not. He cannot mean it."
"He does," Christina replied, her voice trembling with despair. "He—he doesn't want me. This marriage was never for me. It was always for the children. It was always duty. He never cared…"
Addison shook her head, her voice filled with gentle insistence. "You cannot abandon hope, Your Grace. The Duke—he may be distant, but I have seen the way he looks at you. There is more there than you realize."
Christina let out a ragged breath, her tears spilling onto her hands. "I don't think there's anything left to hope for. How can I? He doesn't love me. He never will."
Addison squeezed her shoulder, her expression pained. "You don't know that, not for certain. Men are proud creatures. Sometimes they say things to protect themselves..."
But Christina shook her head, her sobs only growing louder. "He made the opposite perfectly clear, Addison."
Addison's words of comfort were lost in the sound of Christina's anguish, and as the tears continued to flow, Christina felt as though all the light had drained from her world, leaving her in a darkness from which she could not escape.
"Are you out of your mind?" Ashing's voice cut through the steady clatter of the carriage wheels, sharp and incredulous. He leaned forward, his brow furrowed in disbelief as the carriage left Kilton Castle behind.
Victor stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched. "Yes," he admitted, his tone low but resolute. "I'm out of my mind. And Christina drove me to this point."
Ashing exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through his hair in frustration. "Christinadrove you to this? The woman who makes you human? You cannot allow her to become your weakness, Victor. You're a damn fool if you think pushing her away will save you."
Victor's grip tightened on the leather-bound book in his lap, his knuckles white against its cover. "I cannot afford weaknesses, Ashing," he said, his voice hardening. "She will be my undoing if I allow it."
"Undoing?" Ashing scoffed, his frustration palpable. "And what do you plan to do now? Live like a lonely, pathetic fool in London? You'll bury yourself in that cold city, surrounded by empty rooms and your miserable thoughts."
"I have businesses to attend to," Victor replied flatly, though he felt the hollowness of the words as soon as they left his mouth. It was an excuse, and they both knew it.
Ashing let out a derisive laugh. "Nonsense. We both know you'll find no solace in business, Victor. You are making a grave mistake." His voice grew more insistent, his eyes locked on Victor as though willing him to see reason. "Christina brings out the best in you, and you're too stubborn to admit it. She makes you... tolerable, for God's sake! How dare you let go of that?"
Victor's chest tightened, and he could feel Ashing's words striking far too close to home. He opened the book in his hands, staring down at the printed words, though they blurred before his eyes. He wasn't really reading, of course; he only hoped Ashing would get the message and leave him in peace.
But his friend wasn't finished.
"Look at you," Ashing pressed, his voice full of exasperation. "Hiding behind a book as if that will make it easier. You're running away from the one person who can pull you out of this miserable shell you've built around yourself. You know I'm right, and that's what terrifies you."
Victor didn't respond. His eyes remained on the page, the words swimming in front of him. He certainly had regrets, but perhaps the rest of his life was supposed to be spent this way.
Yes, this is safer.
Twenty-Seven
"The sun is bright outside, Mother. It's a perfect day for a walk," Kitty said cheerfully as she stepped into the drawing room, her eyes hopeful.
Annie followed behind her, nodding with enthusiasm. "And after four days of rain, it's time! We've been trapped indoors for far too long."
Christina glanced up from the book she had been pretending to read—The Voyages of the Intrepid Explorers—and set it down on her lap. The title felt mocking, given how far she felt from any adventure or excitement. For four days, since Victor had left, she had felt numb, hollow. It was as though the rain outside had mirrored the grief within her, a relentless reminder of the storm that had descended upon her heart.
She looked up at the girls standing before her. Their faces were so bright, so full of life, and their concern for her was plain. They had noticed her silence, her absence even in the same room.
Christina glanced out of the window and saw that, for the first time in days, the garden was bathed in the sun's golden glow. The vibrant greenery beckoned, but it was the girls' hopeful faces that finally stirred her.
"You're right," she said softly, forcing a small smile. "It is a good day for a long walk. Why don't you fetch the others, along with your spencers and bonnets? We'll all go together."
The girls beamed, immediately rushing out of the room to gather the rest of the children. Christina sat still for a moment longer, taking a deep breath as she prepared herself. She had to push through her own despair, for their sake. She had married Victor to care for these children, and now, more than ever, they were hers to protect and nurture.He may be gone, but they remain, she thought decidedly.
