Page 69 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
Any other time, she would have adored the idea of turning London on its head and being the center of every scandal. But now she thought about Frederick and the rumors thatstillabounded even now. In part, because of her.
“Married life has made me respectable,” Alice said. “But perhaps we could see each other again? I miss our friendship.”
Charlotte laughed, holding onto her hat with her hand as she looked up at Alice. “I thought you would never ask.”
Alice arrived home before Frederick and retired to her room to write in her journal. When she’d first had her accident, she’d relied on her journal as a means of recording her thoughts and feelings—a way of processing them and coming to terms with her new reality.
After a while, she hadn’t written in it as much. Her days were monotonous with less to look forward to. But upon the occasion of her marriage, she had taken up the habit again. She sucked the tip of her pen as she contemplated whether to write about meeting Charlotte. A piece of her old life in with her new.
So many things had changed. According to Charlotte,shehad changed. For the better, it seemed, but the thought that her parents may no longer recognize her came as a blow. She’d lost so much; did she have to lose this, too? It felt as though by moving forward, she was leaving them behind.
Grief was strange. It came in waves, and she couldn’t always predict when it would hit.
Five years had dimmed the fire, made it so she could mostly go about her day without feeling as though she was a crumpled sheet of paper destined for the fire, but when the pain did hit, it felt just as potent as before. There was no escaping this.
The ache in her chest extended all the way through her body. She felt the breath stop, jagged, in her lungs. Every heartbeat felt like cut glass. This pain was visceral, and she could not escape it.
How could she go through her life moving on when they were trapped in her past?
What if she forgot them? How could she live with herself if she betrayed them in such a cruel way?
Tears splattered across the page as she moved her pen, letting her hurt spill across the paper. Her nib scratched; ink splattered along with her tears. All her frustrations. Her acknowledgement of her luck, and her guilt that she had survived when her parents had not. What made her life so worthwhile when they had lost theirs?
Howdareshe move forward and become someone new when they had made her who she was.
Logic told her they would have chosen this for her, but she couldn’t let go of the guilt, and it felt as though it was eating her alive.
Two pages passed, more—before she finally felt as though she had purged her feelings. She stopped, hollow and empty, and replaced the pen, wiping ink from her fingers. Her hands shook and she put her face in them. Breathed through the past of the pain and wiped her face.
For years, she had been trapped in limbo, unable to move in any capacity. Now that she had, it made sense that she was finally experiencing these feelings. And if she let them, they would eat her alive.
She would not allow it.
Not for Frederick.
Downstairs, she heard a commotion, and she dropped her hands, listening. It sounded again, and she rose, taking her stick and hobbling down the stairs.
Lady Rutland entered the house, accompanied by Frederick, his hand under her arm.
“There you are,” she smiled to Alice. “You look wonderful, my dear. I hope you don’t mind me telling you that you are positively glowing.” She pinched Frederick’s arm. “You must have been doing something right.”
But Frederick’s gaze traveled over her and he abandoned his aunt to come to her side at once. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
Alice shook her head and put her hand on his arm. “It’s nothing.”
“Alice—”
“Leave it alone, Frederick.” She hadn’t meant to snap, but she couldn’t relive her pain just for his sake, and he shouldn’t ask her to. As though he’d been slapped, he stepped back and her hand slid from his arm.
“Of course. Sorry.”
“Come with me, Alice,” Lady Rutland said, holding out her arm. “Let me look at you. Yes, it looks as though your leg is a lot better.”
“It is,” Alice nodded and managed a genuine smile. “I can now walk short distances without my stick.”
“The physician is pleased with her progress,” Frederick added too.
Lady Rutland held up her own twisted hand, partially concealed by her glove. “Perhaps I ought to try again after all.”
