Page 50 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
It had been days—long days—since he had last indulged in laudanum, and as his head throbbed once again, he wondered if this was worth it. Did the pain justify the freedom?
There were other vices he could indulge in…
On that note, he cast about for something to ease the ache, but her room contained no brandy.Nothing. He drew in a shaking breath, attempting to suppress the urge, but it felt as though razors were slicing up his insides.
A man could die from this, he was certain.
A headache slammed behind his eyes, and he blinked several times to clear them.
Lydia’s face came back into view, her anger dissolved into something that looked alarmingly like concern. After all this, and all the ways he had contrived to hurt her, and she still looked at him like that?
He did not deserve it.
But perhaps he couldwantto deserve it. To deserveher…
“Are you well, Alexander?” she asked, taking a step towards him. He was still utterly unclothed, and in this light, he could see how his addiction had wasted his body. She must have noticed, and it made his cheeks burn in shame. “Is there something I can do to help?”
“I w-wish you could,” he muttered, stepping back clumsily. “I’m sorry, Lydia. Truly, I am. You—you were incredible.” He reached out to brush her cheek, and to his surprise, she let him, her eyes wide as he made his uncertain way across her bedchamber to his own, before shutting the door firmly behind him.
There, he slid down the door to the floor, attempting to steady his stomach before he vomited everywhere.
Brandy—thatwas what he needed.
That would soothe the beast inside him just enough that he could see through the evening, although he couldn’t indulge too far. For Lydia’s sake, if not for Godwin’s.
Crawling desperately across the room to the bottle he kept in his room for these occasions, he lay back on the carpet and stared at the ceiling as he dwelled miserably on the situation he now found himself in, afraid of siring a child with his wife because he had been so thoroughly broken by the events of his past.
Now, Lydia had to pay the price of that.
Maybe it was better for them both if he left her alone.
Only, now, he wasn’t sure he could.
Once he recovered himself and dressed, he knocked on their adjoining door. He wasn’t entirely sure what the purpose would be—to apologize, perhaps even to explain himself a little.
But no matter how many times he knocked, she never answered.
Lydia pasted a false, bright smile on her face as she and Alexander climbed into the carriage that would take them to Mr. Godwin’s house. The night was dark, and it had finally stopped raining. Only a few patches of snow were left, and they were easily navigated past.
If Alexander wanted to send her away, he could now do so perfectly easily. And, given his sudden terror at the prospect of making her with child, hewantedher to leave. After all, it would not do to cast off a pregnant wife.
Casting off a non-pregnant wife, she assumed, was a prospect very much on the table. No matter how much she hated the idea.
Yet there had to be more at play than merely that; for a moment, it had looked as though he would collapse! Not from their intimacy or from fear—at least, so she supposed. He had apologized to her while looking abominably pale, practically swaying on his feet as he made his way to his bedchamber.
He never had told her what battles he was fighting.
“You never answered the door to me,” he murmured, the darkness concealing his expression. They could have chosen to light a lantern, but she preferred this obscurity.
“I did not,” she answered.
“Why?”
Because she had been crying on her bed, pressing her hands against her eyes, clamping her lips tight shut so she would make no sound. She hadn’t even rung for Rosie until she was certain she had found her composure, and she would absolutely not entertain Alexander seeing her in that way.
She didn’t know quite what it was about the experience that made her feel quite so…vulnerable. Going in, she had been determined that it was a means to an end, a way of proving to him that he would not want to do without her. And a way of discovering what pleasure could be like with another person.
What she had discovered had been so, so much more…
