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“Because I said so.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Look,” he began, rising from his seat to steadily approach Michael, “Did you ever stop to consider that you misunderstood the situation? What on earth would make a young, beautiful woman recently wed to a wealthy Duke jump out of a window on her wedding night?”

Michael could feel every tendon within him straighten with tension. Hearing the words aloud were practically cruel, something he never thought would have touched his ears. All those few years ago, the night of their rushed wedding, when Michael had returned to the estate, he looked up towards the windows to see a wispy figure peering over the edge. Her feet practically dangled over the threshold, the rushing evening breeze whipping her hair to and fro. A single misstep, a slight change in the wind, a moment of fright could have sent her crashing out the window, and straight towards her demise.

Suddenly, Michael felt as though he was brought back to that very moment. A plaguing sensation of unavoidable sickness rested in his stomach, the need to hurl or merely heave almost forcing itself through his throat. Memories strung together through circumstance pulled him into an unavoidable reverie, one that he almost fell into and feared he might never return from. Gathering his senses, Michael clenched his fists, bringing himself back to where he stood in the private boxing ring. Across from him, Rhys stood incredibly still, watching him with a patient stare.

“I cannot tell you what could have made her wish to jump,” Michael said in a quiet voice. “But I can tell you this: I know what it was that I saw, and I do not regret putting space between us. Perhaps it was that mere distance that saved her from total destruction.”

“You can’t be that naive.”

Michael glared. “In no way am I naive, Rhys. I did what I believed to beright. And now, to this very day, at this very second, I still do just that.”

“So, what, you’ll leave her alone once more? Let the rumors slowly sink back in while you take refuge in your private estate?”

“All I know,” Michael seethed, “Is that the moment I can, I will put the distance between us once more. There is no piece of me that can give Cordelia a happy marriage. The more time I spent at Solshire, the easier it is for her to believe that is her exact future.”

“Perhaps it can be her future,” Rhys said. “Perhaps it can even be yours, if you will it to be so.”

“I -” Michael paused, feeling as though a pair of crossroads stood before him.

On one side was Cordelia. She could be at his side for as long as he wished, attending balls and giving the Ton exactly what it was they wished to see. On the other hand, Michael saw himself leaving within the month. He would return to his private estate, leaving Cordelia to do whatever else she pleased on the estate he once considered to be his home. He never saw himself returning after that. They would be solitary creatures, all because of his own accord. Michael’s hands clenched into fists.

“I cannot give Cordelia the life she wants,” Michael finally finished, speaking through clenched teeth. “So I will give her the life she needs instead.”

“How can you be so sure of what it is she needs?”

Michael began to gather his belongings. “She is my wife, after all.”

Rhys laughed, much to his surprise. “Michael.”

“What?”

“Put the bag down and look at me.”

Michael sighed, placing his bag back down and facing his old friend. Rhys approached him with a pointed stare, reaching out to clasp a hand down on Michael’s shoulder. He seemed to try and hold him there, as if Rhys knew that the words he spoke next might drive Michael quickly away if he wasn’t careful.

“What?” Michael snapped, growing suspicious and even more ready to leave.

Rhys sighed. “Cordelia is not your mother.”

Michael barely needed a second to react, reaching up to snap Rhys’s firm grasp off his shoulder. “Do not dare to mention her,” he growled.

“Michael,” Rhys said again, “Your wife is not the same as -”

He launched around, snatching onto his friend’s collar and holding him close to his face. Though they were about the same height, Michael managed to hold more strength than him, keeping Rhys locked in place directly in front of him. Not an ounce of fear passed by the Duke’s face, not that Michael expected it to.

“Donotspeak of her,” Michael hissed.

Rhys pressed his lips together and did not speak.

Releasing his hold on him, Michael slipped by, snatching onto the rest of his belongings and beginning to stalk towards the exit. Behind him, he heard the sound of Rhys moving about, gathering his own things and following close behind.

“Same time next week?” Rhys asked. He didn’t hesitate for one second.

Michael hid his pleased smile. “Whatever you say, Rhys.”

They parted ways out the door, both of them heading towards their respective carriages. Michael felt as though his pack weighed more than he could handle as he climbed into the small compartment, knocking his knuckles against the side to signal the driver. The carriage began to trudge down the cobble road, and Michael leaned his head against the back.