Page 82 of A Duchess Bound
“Surprise,” he said dryly. “I have gotten you into bed, and you have been satisfied. We have both had our needs met, so it is best for us to move on.”
She took a bold step toward him, and he saw that her eyes were suspiciously bright. Gerard inhaled sharply. Was she going to cry? He inwardly floundered, for he had never been adept at handling crying women. Knowing that he would be the cause of her tears was even worse.
“Well, then,” she said.
Without another word, she stormed away from him. Dorothy retrieved her discarded garments as she went. Gerard stood still, as if his feet had frozen to the floor. He imagined how she must look, wandering the corridors of his townhouse, entirely nude and grasping her clothes from the floor. Slowly, Gerard sank onto the bed and stared at the wall.
He had done it. He had sent her away and put an end to things.
Usually, there was a vague sense of regret when he ended these affairs. The one exception had been Lady Everleigh; they had both felt the mutual loss of attraction and decided to pursue other lovers. Their parting had been amicable, friendly even. But he had never experienced anything like this parting with Dorothy, with its cold, creeping wretchedness.
He stared at the wall for a long time. At last, he stood and dressed. A newfound numbness had overcome him. Had Dorothy felt some kind of numbness after she left? Had she dressed just as he had, with her thoughts miles away? Or had she cried?
A knot twisted in his chest at the thought of her sobbing, tears staining her chemise and gown. Gerard clenched his jaw. He was a monstrous man. He could have continued it. He could have found a gentler way of expressing that they ought to part.
He left his bedchamber and walked to his study, where he always went when he desired solitude. The room was not empty, though. Halls stood by the desk. Seeing Gerard, he raised his head. “I knew you would come here, Your Grace. I thought you would want to know that I saw the lady safely into a carriage.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Halls bowed deeply. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Gerard bit the inside of his cheek. Halls had seen countless ladies home after their dalliances. Dorothy would be just another lovely face that he helped on her way. Somehow, Dorothy’s leaving filled Gerard with a shame he had never felt before.
“Did she seem…well?” Gerard asked awkwardly.
Halls raised an eyebrow. “Truthfully, she seemed a little distraught, as though she was trying to maintain her dignity. But I believe that she was fine, overall. Certainly, she looked resolute.”
Gerard sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel dreadful.”
“Shall I pour you a brandy, Your Grace?”
Gerard looked morosely at Halls. For once, Gerard wished that he had someone on his staff with whom he shared a friendly relationship.
“What do you truly think about my behavior?” Gerard asked.
“It is not my place to think anything about your behavior, Your Grace.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Halls said nothing. Instead, he merely turned to the cabinet where Gerard kept his brandy and poured him a glass.
“Pour yourself one, too,” Gerard said through clenched teeth.
Gerard sank into the chair behind his desk. Just a little while ago, Dorothy had stood across from him. He winced. If he had known that forcing her away would hurt so badly, would he have still approached her? Would he have encouraged her advances or been so delighted when she came to his estate without warning?
Halls placed a glass of brandy before Gerard, who took a large swallow of the drink. The warmth of the brandy loosened the knot in his chest, but it was not sufficient to vanquish Dorothy’s image from his mind. “Give me the decanter,” Gerard said roughly.
Halls placed it before him. Gerard finished his glass and pulled another, conscious of Halls standing nearby, his own glass held loosely in his hand. “You have never cared what I have thought about your behavior before,” Halls said. “What makes this time different, Your Grace?”
Gerard grimaced. “I do not know if I wish to answer that.”
“I see.”
Gerard sighed and gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. I need to talk to someone, and I am not going to bother Pontoun at such a late hour.”
Halls hummed, his bones creaking as he dropped into the chair. Despite his insistence that he wished to talk, Gerard said nothing for several moments. Instead, he drank his brandy and tried not to think about how Dorothy had once downed an entire glass of brandy in front of him. His throat was tight. “I liked her,” Gerard said.
Halls furrowed his brow, clearly confused.
