Page 35

Oh. So, he was not in a mood to negotiate at all.

The tension in the room thickened. Violet studied him, trying to decipher the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

What was going on with him this morning?

“You never answered my question about sleep,” she asked, now for the third time. “Is your mood foul because of it? The lack of sleep, I mean to say.”

He looked at her as though she had uttered something entirely ridiculous.

“Whether or not I got to sleep is inconsequential,” he said, “and frankly, I do not see the point in discussing it.”

“It was merely a polite inquiry,” she fought back. “You asked me about my injury, and I asked you about your sleep. I think it is fair for me to expect an answer.”

He began to shake his head, muttering something under his breath.

“I did not sleep last night,” he told her finally.

Somehow, the manner in which he admitted it made her soften up immediately.

“Then you should have opted to stay in bed for longer this morning,” she said.

He shrugged his shoulders, as though his own health was a secondary concern. They ate together in silence after that.

It was a long time before anyone broke that silence. Finally, Nicholas cleared his throat.

“If you are well enough to talk now, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

She set down her teacup, her hands folding tightly in her lap. “What is it?”

What she really wanted to ask was, Do I wish to know, really? Their marriage felt like it hung on such a delicate balance that anything could tilt it over to the wrong side. They had been teetering on the balancing edge for a while now.

“I have given some thought to our…” He paused for a moment, his frown deepening. “Well, our arrangement.”

“You mean our marriage?” she asked him. Somehow, using the term arrangement felt like a step back.

“Our arrangement,” he corrected. She felt her heart sink.

“And?”

“I’ve come to the conclusion,” he began as though he had to force the words out, “that it might be best if we lived separately.”

Violet stared at him, her mind racing to catch up with what he had just said.

“I am not sure if I understand you. You want us to live… separately?” she repeated.

Where had this come from?

“Yes,” Nicholas said, his tone clipped. “I’ve realized that I am not suited to this life. To this arrangement. It’s my fault entirely. With no blame to you. I’ve lived as a bachelor for so long that I find it difficult to adapt.”

“But… we’re married,” she reminded him. Had he suddenly forgotten?

“On paper, yes,” he said, his gaze fixed firmly on her now. “But I believe we both knew from the start that this was a marriage of convenience. And while we’ve become…friends—” The word seemed to pain him as he said it. “—I cannot be someone I’m not.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and she felt a painful sting behind her eyes.

“Are you saying this because of what happened yesterday?” she demanded, trying to make sense of him. “Because—it really feels like a big step backwards only due to a small misstep. I can be more careful…”

He cut her off. “You may consider it a step back, but I see it as a step in the right direction.”

That stung.

“So please explain to me what is it that you mean, exactly,” her voice thickened. “You wish to live away from me—and by that I assume move away from the estate—because you believe it is the right thing to do?”

Nicholas nodded, his expression resolute. “It’s for the best.”

“For the best,” she echoed. “For whom, exactly?”

And why did he get to decide that on his own?

“For both of us,” he replied. “You deserve more than what I can offer, Violet. I am not the man who can give you what you want.”

“And what made you suddenly realize this?” she questioned. If he was going to tell her something so life-altering so casually, then she at least had the right to press him with questions.

“I told you,” he maintained his calm tone. “Our lifestyles are too different. We cannot co-exist. It is simply not fair to either me or you.”

Lifestyles.

Something in her mind clicked as he said the word.

Her lips parted. “This isn’t about our different lifestyles, is it? This is about your affairs.”

Nicholas’ jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his silence confirming her worst fears.

Violet’s breath hitched, the room suddenly feeling too warm, too stifling. “You think I want to live under the shadow of rumors? That I would tolerate it?”

She could not control her reaction—the heat that rushed to her cheeks, the stabbing pain in her chest that began to spread outwards.

Was he leaving her to pursue affairs with other women? That, too, after that kiss?

“I think,” Nicholas said slowly, his voice low and measured, “that you deserve freedom. To live as you wish. To find what you truly want.”

“And what about what you want? Just days ago, you assured me that you had left the rake life behind you. And now, you suddenly decide that we are too different to co-exist,” she asked, her voice trembling with hurt. “Do you even know what this implies?”

How was this any different than a separation? Violet felt sick just thinking about it.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, perhaps, or something deeper—but he quickly masked it. “I’ve made my decision, Violet. Which means that I have considered the implications of this very well. It does not change anything for me. I’ll begin making arrangements immediately.”

Violet sat frozen, her hands gripping the edge of the table. Her heart felt as though it were being wrenched from her chest, her mind spinning with questions. She wanted to argue, to demand an explanation that made sense, but the lump in her throat made it impossible.

What else could he even say?

Nicholas stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’ll inform the staff. There’s no need for you to worry about the logistics. I will ensure that you are looked after by the staff in my absence.”

Violet swallowed hard. For a moment, she considered watching him go, but then something snapped inside of her.

Her voice was barely audible as she said, “You’re a coward.”

Nicholas froze, his back to her. Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression guarded. “What did you say?”

“You’re running away because you’re afraid.” The words were coming out of her mouth. She could not control them.

His jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. “I have nothing to be afraid of.”

“So, you are a liar, too,” she added.

“Violet,” he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, “I should have expected you to put up a fight. But this is not something that you can talk me out of. I cannot adjust to this life—and if that makes me a coward or a liar, then so be it.”

He paused for a moment. For a second, something flashed in his expression. Something that resembled vulnerability—the first time he had let it peek through this entire conversation.

But then, he concealed it quickly.

“I am sorry, Violet,” he muttered, not meeting her gaze.

He did not wait for her to respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Violet standing there.

Violet sank back into her chair, her vision blurred with tears.

That was it. That was all it took for their connection to be ripped apart.

How could someone change their mind so quickly? How could she not see this coming before?

If he had been worried about her injury, then he had just hurt her far worse than any bodily harm that could be done on her.

He had just broken her heart.

As she sat there, now alone at the table, she didn’t know what was worse—the betrayal, the heartbreak, or the realization that she had been foolish enough to hope for something more.