Page 80 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
“She overheard you telling Samuel.” Miss Parsons flicked her finger at her beloved. “I pressed him for details, but he informed me that it is between you and Lydia. I had hoped you would tell her yourself, but when you arrived here, you evidently had not.”
She’d overheard him telling Godwin he intended to leave? If that was the case, she had only overheard the very end of a verydamningconversation from a few nights ago, and nothing that came before. He wasn’t sure if he ought to feel relieved or even more concerned.
“Let me get one thing straight,” Alexander snapped at Miss Parsons, and at the cold anger in her voice, she looked up at him in surprise. “I have no intention of leaving Lydia unlessshedesires it. The preparation to leave is a contingency plan, so if shewereto decide that she can’t stand the sight of me any longer, I can leave without further delay. Do you understand?”
“I—” Miss Parsons’ brows descended over her face. “You have… something terrible to tell her?”
“That ismybusiness andmybusiness alone. But rest assured, I have no intention of leaving if Lydia does not command it.” He resisted the urge to shake her stubborn, angry friend, but only just. “So where is she? Has she returned home?”
“I—I don’t know,” Miss Parsons stammered, her composure well and truly shattered. “She told Marie and me that she wanted some time and space alone, and we offered that to her, but I don’t know where she went. Marie offered her the use of her carriage, but—”
Abandoning her, Alexander strode to the great doors leading into the rest of the house. From there, he spoke to the butler, ascertaining that his carriage had not been summoned, but that one of Lord Harrogate’s carriageshadbeen called for one of the guests. The butler was not sure which one.
That settled the matter—Alexander was now adequately certain that Lydia had returned home, no doubt hoping to retire before he got back, and with the thought that he would leave in the morning without ever bidding her farewell.
After all their time together, was that truly what she thought of him?
He endured the stab of pain and disappointment, sending for his carriage and waiting by the door, heedless of the lashing rain. The heavens mimicked his mood.
All he wanted to do was go to bed in his wife’s arms.
All he wanted was to tell her the worst parts of himself and for her to understand.
It took altogether too long for the carriage to arrive, and when it did, he already felt jittery from nerves and fear.
No, notjustthe nerves and fear.
The remnants of withdrawal had slowly begun siphoning in his blood, and his cravings had returned with a vengeance.
“Go!” he commanded tersely as he climbed into the coach, gripping his wrist to stop his hand from shaking. “Spare me no comfort; take me home as soon as possible!”
“Is Her Grace not accompanying you, sir?” the coachman asked, collars turned up against the bitter wind and driving rain. Alexander’s gut twisted.
“Not tonight,” he muttered.
“As you say, sir.”
The carriage lurched into motion, and Alexander tried to plan in his obstreperous mind what he would tell Lydia when he saw her again—about how much he cared for her, about how much hewantedto stay.
And then, perhaps, necessarily, the reason he may never be able to…
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The wind tore at Lydia’s clothing as she followed the old, familiar path through the gardens and into the wider estate beyond. The rust on the gate bit at her fingers. The darkness felt as though it might swallow her whole, and the rain spat at her face.
Still, she walked.
She didn’t precisely know where. All she knew was the night contained every emotion she had locked in her chest, and she needed to go somewhere safe to release them.
Her chest ached.
Grief held her in its grasp as she made her way through the woodland that lined the edge of the estate’s grand gardens. Once, it had been part of the parkland that ladies and gentlemen had walked around, but it had since been neglected, more attention given to the formal gardens beside the house.
The path was barely visible in the darkness, and she stumbled more than once. The trees’ skeletal branches did little to protect her from the storm, but she didn’t care.
She kept walking and walking. Until finally she got where she was looking for.
The moment Alexander reached Halston Manor, he strode inside the doors without waiting for the coachman to hand him down. “Where’s the duchess?” he demanded of the nearest footman. “Has she arrived?”
