Page 72 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
“Do you think she would choose you when all was said and done? If our roles were reversed?”
Godwin took a long drink as he thought, and Alexander hated every second that passed between his question and answer. “I think it all comes down to intent,” Godwin answered soberly. “You didn’tintendto hurt her father. If it had been a malicious attempt designed to end his life, that would be different.”
“The end result is the same.”
“And if it had been another gentleman walking in the middle of the road instead, would you have blamed him? The horses were spooked, and the carriage tipped. These things have happened countless times before, and they will happen again. Of course, it is tragic, and a damn shame you happened to be walking there that night, but—” Godwin stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Was that the night—”
“Yes,” Alexander replied, too quickly. Another nail in his coffin; he had been walking out there, drunk and aimless, because it had been the anniversary of Helena’s death, and he had been tragically certain he would never be happy again.
How ironically terrible that such an event could have led to such tragedy—and such happiness.
“Well…” Godwin murmured, scratching his chin. “I don’t suggest you tell herthatpart.”
“I must. How else can I start a marriage in good faith if it is based on a lie?”
“Not a lie, old chap. Merely a… hole in the truth.”
“I won’t do it. If I tell her some of it, I must tell her everything. And that meanseverything.”
“Are you certain?” Godwin idly swirled his glass of wine, looking at it as though it held all the answers to his questions. “Quite sure this is the track you want to take?”
“I have decided,” Alexander stated bluntly. The worst of the cravings and aches and mind-fog had eased; he felt clearer-headed than he had in years. Being around Lydia, being away from all the worst influences of the past six years, had been good for him. “I’ll wait until after Lady Harrogate’s ball.”
“One final night together,” Godwin said wryly.
“Precisely. Then, if nothing else, we will have memories of that happiness.” Alexander gave a wry smile. “Though I should probably pack my bags in preparation.”
“You won’t be staying?”
Alexander shook his head. “No, not if—”
Footsteps sounded outside the room, and he broke off, crossing to the door and peering outside. The corridor was empty. He closed the door behind him and returned to his chair.
“Must have been a servant.”
Lydia stumbled back from the door, her mind reeling, her hands shaking. Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest. Alexander was going to wait until after the ball and then leave her? After everything, he still intended to leave?
She took a deep breath. Then another. Pressing one hand to her stomach, she started back for the stairs. His words burrowed deep in her mind until she couldn’t help but hear him, again and again.
I’ll wait until after Lady Harrogate’s ball.
I should probably pack my bags.
You won’t be staying?
No.
No, of course he wouldn’t. All the dreaming she had done had been her own, based on what she’dhopedhe thought and felt. Nothing he had said directly to her had confirmed that he would, and now she had the direct proof that he would not.
You won’t be staying?
No…
How could she endure this? All this time, she had believed he wanted to stay—that he had been making a home for himself here. But that had been a lie. He had been appeasing her for the sake of—what?
She reached her bedchamber and sank on the bed. But even there gave her no peace; he had been spending his nights with her, in this very bed. Her entire life was tainted with memories of him now.
A ragged sob escaped her, and she leaned over, pressing her face into her pillow.
