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Only she alone had the right to do that.

And besides, she never really wanted to depend on a man for the rest of her life. She had fully intended to live merrily on her own as a spinster, should the ton cast her out.

She smiled as she looked at Alice. “You are right, dear Alice. Perhaps it is time I returned to Mama and Papa after all of this.”

She had family who loved her and friends she could count on to defend her and comfort her in her time of need.

She was going to be fine—not perfectly, perhaps, but broken heartsdidheal.

She just needed to give herself a bit more time.

Ethan wasnotfine—not by a long shot.

And he had no such intention of picking himself back up from the floor along with the two bottles of brandy that he had managed to consume all by himself in his study between several half-eaten meals.

Whenever he woke up from his alcohol-induced slumber, he only longed for the bliss of a dreamless oblivion. At least in the void, he would not have to suffer for hurting Phoebe so much.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the day’s growth scraping against his palm. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see the hurt look in those beautiful green eyes of hers. See the tears shining amidst the flecks of gold.

I am a monster.Like my sire, I destroy everything I touch.

It was a good thing that Phoebe was strong enough to get away from him before he hurt her further. Before she became just like his mother, unable to walk away from the man she loved but who hurt her terribly.

“You always were better than me,” he mumbled achingly. “Even with your heart so soft and full of kindness.”

He had known all along that Miss Delaney carried another man’s child in her womb. Had suspected it before he even tried to marry her.

What he could not accept was the Viscount trying to worm his way into Phoebe’s life, into her heart. Even when she showed him that she did not care for the man at all, that he made her all sorts of uncomfortable, he had been soafraidthat Dexford, with all his slick promises, would win her heart.

Phoebe was a romantic, after all. She wanted love or nothing at all.

From the beginning of their marriage, Ethan had told her quite coldly that he could not give her that. What he offered, in its stead, was the shallow pleasure of copulation—a cheaper alternative to what she truly desired.

Still, she had given him a chance to become the husband worthy of her heart, and he had failed.

Devastatingly so.

“God, Phoebe, I am so sorry,” he groaned. “Sorrier than you could ever imagine…”

In his mind, a low voice taunted him. “Are you really?”

“Yes,” he muttered hoarsely, nodding. “Much more than even words can say…”

“Good. Maybe then you can pick yourself up from the floor and actually start doing something about it.”

Ethan frowned and then blearily blinked his eyes open.

Crouched before him was none other than Daniel, who was wearing a slight smirk as he looked straight into his eyes.

“You are going to want to listen to what I have to say, Sinclair,” he said simply.

Ethan smiled bitterly. “There is very little I want to hear right now, Daniel.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Daniel drawled sarcastically. “Do you want to know something about the Viscount Dexford? Something that could ruin him entirely, or quite possibly an explanation for everything happening between you and your Duchess?”

Thatfinally got Ethan’s attention. Daniel never joked about ruination or any information he possessed.

“You have something?”