Page 79 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
Finally, Charlotte dropped her gaze. She pressed a hand to her face. “It’s an old recipe,” she muttered. “When ingested, it makes one appear drunk. Too much of it and… But I never put that much in! I never wanted to hurt you, Alice. I swear!”
Betrayal flashed through Alice. She had known, of course, but hearing it hurt worse than she could have imagined.
“But why?”
The corner of Charlotte’s mouth quivered as though she finally truly understood the magnitude of what she had done—and what she had destroyed. “I had originally intended it for him. I thought we might plot together. Make a fool out of him together, just as you did when you first married him. But then you talked about happiness and forgiveness, and it made me soangrythat you could forgive him after everything. And now everyone knows the truth. You deserve that. Yourparentsdeserve that.”
“No.” Alice shook her head slowly, feeling as though she had been delivered a blow to the side of her head. She clung to this last thought with everything she had. “They don’t know the truth. Because if they did, they would know that not only have I forgiven my husband, but I love him.”
Shock slackened Charlotte’s face. “No,” she whispered. “How could you?”
But Alice was already storming back out of the house, forgetting to use her stick in her fury. It was only when she made it back to Fortuna that she realized how much mobility she had gained. Another reason to thank Frederick. She had too many to count in her present life.
“Alice, wait!” Charlotte appeared behind her, too small in the doorway to her townhouse. “You can’t leave like this. At least listen to what I have to say!”
“You did not listen to me,” Alice groused. “Now you can understand how that feels.”
Without another look back, she rode away.
Frederick had yet to find sleep when the adjoining door to Alice’s room creaked open. He half sat up in bed as she limped through, wearing a nightgown that swallowed her slim frame hole. Seduction was not her goal, then. She held a candle in her hand, and by its wavering light, he found determination in her face and resolve in her eyes.
He clamped his jaw tight together. He already knew how this conversation would go. She would make excuses and claim she didn’t do it, despite the evidence to the contrary, and he would be expected to keep the peace with her. Restore their good relationship. Come back to her bed.
Trust her again.
He didn’t know how he could. Hurt ate away at him every time he gave himself space to think. Guilt and shame for having believed that she could ever have forgiven him.
“What are you doing here at this time of night?” he demanded and tried to ignore the way she flinched. But cruelty was not in his nature, so he softened his voice. “I’ve had a long day, Alice.”
“I had no other chance to speak to you.” She perched at the end of the bed. “I didn’t speak against you, Frederick. And I didn’t get drunk. Charlotte confessed to putting something in my drink, and—”
He made an inarticulate sound. “A likely story. Perhaps I would be more inclined to believe you if you hadn’t already behaved in that way once.”
“Weeks ago! Things have changed since then—”
He pinched his nose. “Not enough, evidently. I don’t want to have this conversation with you, Alice. Right now, I don’t think I can be around you. You made me feel like a fool and look like a fool in the face of all of London.” He cleared his throat before it went thick with the weight of his regret. “In time, perhaps, I’ll forget I felt this way, but…”
Her face was so pale.
She rose, and he noticed again that she hadn’t even brought her stick with her. He almost said something, but seeing her before him made him ache the way he had never known. A broken heart was not merely a feeling—his entire body revolted against the sensation. A physical pain he could not endure.
“I understand,” she whispered, so remote, it almost snapped him in two all over again. “I apologize for disturbing your rest, Your Grace.”
“Alice, I—”
The door closed behind her, and he closed his eyes, feeling like a wretch even though she had concocted the most ridiculous excuse to excuse her drinking. If she had just confessed to it, he could have moved past it faster, but her continued denials made him feel more like the fool she had made him out to be.
He punched his pillow, turning over for another night of indifferent sleep and a life he no longer enjoyed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Are you sure you want to do this, Your Grace?” Jenny asked as she hauled Alice’s bag down to the carriage.
Alice turned, her stick resting lightly on the cobbles beside her. Although she didn’t need it for short distances now, she found it reassuring to have that support. If she had Frederick by her side—
But she didn’t. And he had made it clear that she never would.
“I am certain,” she said to her maid, and climbed stiffly into the carriage. “My aunt and uncle won’t be overjoyed, but that won’t matter. Better there than one of Frederick’s estates. If he wants space from me, then he will have it.”
