Page 76 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
Along with her faculties, resolve returned to her. She could understand Frederick’s hurt, especially if he believed her to have behaved this way maliciously.
But she hadn’t.
The only thing she could do was appeal to his better side, the side that she believed must care about her.
All was not lost—she would not let it be.
She reached for her bellpull and rang for Jenny, and while she waited, found her way to her writing desk and dashed a quick note to Lady Rutland. If anyone would know how the land lay, it would be her.
“Send this to Lady Rutland,” she said the instant Jenny came through the door. “Ask her to come visit me. Or if she cannot, then I will visit her. Quickly now.”
“Your Grace.” Jenny twisted the letter in her fingers. “Are you… all right? The Duke has been in a rare taking all day.”
“He thinks I betrayed him,” Alice replied. “Understandable under the circumstances, but I would never—”
Her face crumpled beside herself, and she struggled to articulate her fear that she had contrived to ruin this wonderful, fragile thing between them. They had overcome so much, and it seemed almost ludicrous that this small thing could have so damaged their marriage.
Yet at the same time—he had been so gentle with her, so supportive even when she struggled, and he had confided in her how much restoring his reputation meant. For him to have opened up in such a way to her, and to have her turn against him so cruelly—that was a blow not easily overcome.
All she had to do was make him understand that shehadn’tturned against him.
Ifshe could do that.
Under Jenny’s concerned gaze, though, she could no longer hold back her terror, and she sank onto the bed. Her fingers shook as she pressed them into her eyes.
“I haven’t just forgiven him,” she confessed, the words torn from her like rotten teeth. Even admitting this felt like a hurdle she almost couldn’t clear. “I think I might—I think I might care for him, too. Deeply...”
She’d known ever since she’d thought about what his pain did to her.
That feeling of sharing someone’s anguish—that came from love. You could sympathize, empathize even, with someone you didn’t love, but you didn’t feel their pain as though it was a dagger to your own heart.
Now she suffered both his hurt and her own pain. And the only way of solving both would be to persuade him that she hadn’t acted maliciously.
“I don’t know if he’ll forgive me,” she whispered hoarsely, digging her fingers into her eyes. She would not cry, but she felt her chest caving in. “I don’t know how it happened, but he became the person I could tell everything to—even my feelings about my parents. He listened and he gave me advice, and he was gentle even when it reflected badly on him. How could I have ruined things so badly?”
“If he loves you, he will forgive you,” Jenny coaxed, placing an uncertain hand on Alice’s shoulder. “And he does love you. No man who doesn’t love his wife would behave in such a way.”
“But what if he doesn’t love me?” Alice’s lip trembled. “What if he treated me well all out of guilt and duty, and now he feels no more obligation to do so because he thinks I betrayed him?”
Jenny shook her head resolutely. “If you were able to hurt him, that means he cares. Only an indifferent man would care nothing for something like this.”
“And if this hurt is enough to make him no longer wish to be my husband? In truth, not just in name.”
“I doubt that is the case, Your Grace,” Jenny smiled weakly. “But if it is, remember, you have the rest of your life together to win him back around. Just as he did. And you can start by repairing the damage.”
Alice drew in a long, shaky breath. It would be difficult for her to repair the damage to their relationship if he refused to be seen with her again, which she suspected was likely. But she would try.
But first, she needed to know just how terrible the damage was.
“Send the letter,” she told Jenny. “Then we can see about making a change.”
Frederick found it impossible to concentrate on his work. This desk had been where he’d taken Alice. He’d tasted her in the armchair by the fire as she’d watched him with heavy lids. They’d laughed here, and she’d even begun helping him with his numbers.
At the thought, another lancing wave of hurt rocked him, and he dropped his pen, pinching his nose.
This situation was untenable.
He could hardly stop her from acting as she chose—and he would never do that—but it didn’t mean he should be around to let her hurt him like that again.
