Page 35

“It is just past eleven o’clock,” he replied, apparently finding something very interesting on the glass. More interesting than his wife. “I have had breakfast already.”

Teresa mustered a nervous laugh. “Perhaps, Belinda could fetch me something to eat, and I can have a picnic here while you finish what you are doing. Then, I thought we could spend the day in the library and?—”

“I will be gone this afternoon,” he interrupted, turning at last.

He dropped the cloth into the bucket and wiped his hands on his trousers, finally meeting her gaze. Where she had anticipated warmth and affection, there were two deep pools of the coldest blue. As devoid of feeling as they used to be.

She nodded slowly. “Of course, I should not have assumed that you had nothing to occupy yourself, being as busy as you are.” She rubbed her throat, her nerves jittering.

“It is just that… well, I hoped we might spend some time together. You see, I have been so worried about you. You seemed very upset yesterday, and… I should like to apologize for any distress that I caused.”

“I am quite well now,” he said coolly, his gaze flitting to Belinda.

The housekeeper bowed her head and backed away, leaving the couple alone. Whether that was a good sign or a bad one, Teresa guessed she was about to find out.

“I do not need an apology, Teresa,” he added, sweeping a hand through his hair. “Nor do we need to spend time with one another. All is well.”

Teresa frowned. “It does not seem as if ‘all is well,’ if I may be honest.”

“I assure you, it is.”

“Well… when will you be back?” she said, a cold prickle beetling down the back of her neck. The kind she used to get when her tormentors were about to come around a corner. “Will you be at the castle for dinner?”

He puffed out a strained breath, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

“I will not be back, Teresa. I will be leaving for my townhouse in Bath after luncheon, and I will be gone for the foreseeable.” He gestured loosely at the gardens and the castle.

“You will, of course, be free to do whatever you please with your residence. If you wish to host that ball you spoke of, you are at liberty to do so. This castle is yours now, for all intents and purposes.”

“What?” Teresa rasped.

Beneath her already unsteady feet, the earth seemed to heave and shift, like the path would swallow her down into a terrible place. She gripped the cane tighter, fearing she might fall from the shock.

“I no longer feel comfortable here,” he replied flatly. “It no longer feels like somewhere I should be.”

“But… you are my husband,” she croaked. “Where else would you be? What is the meaning of this?”

He took a breath, his chest gleaming with sweat.

“We are husband and wife in name only. Our… acquaintance has taken a turn that I do not care for. With that in mind, I believe this is the best course of action.” The glass seemed to draw his attention again.

“Ours is a marriage of convenience. That is how it will remain.”

“Ours was a marriage of convenience,” she shot back, her eyes pricking.

“It is not anymore, and I… I refuse to believe that you suddenly have no feelings for me. You kissed me, Cyrus. You have fallen asleep beside me for several nights. You… cannot say those are the actions of a man who does not care, who does not feel something for me!”

He wiped a droplet of water from the greenhouse, not giving her the decency of looking her in the eye. “There are no feelings involved, Teresa. I am sorry if you misunderstood.”

She could not believe this was happening.

Clearly, she was in some manner of fevered delirium, and her brain had poured the worst possible nightmare it could think of into her skull.

Yesterday, she was certain he had a growing affection for her.

Today, apparently it was all in her head? It was too dizzying to bear.

“What of my feelings?” she snapped, her throat on fire. “My feelings are very much involved!”

Cyrus looked at her for a moment, those blue eyes as still and emotionless as the glass to his side.

“Mine are not.” He licked his lips as if they were dry.

“I promised you nothing, Teresa. You knew the arrangement from the beginning. If you have permitted your daydreams and stories to bleed into reality, then I am sorry for that, but my position has not changed.”

It was the cruelest barb he could have thrown at her, to use her passions against her in such a demeaning way. She was well aware that she often had her head in the clouds, but what had made their recent developments so wonderful was that it was real. It was reality.

“So, there they are,” she spat, her blood boiling.

Cyrus frowned. “Who?”

“Your father and your grandfather.” She glared at him. “I have always wondered if cruelty can be inherited. Thank you for giving me my answer.”

His eyes flashed with a pain she had no qualms about inflicting, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“I know I have not imagined what has bloomed between us,” she continued venomously.

“So, either your brain got jostled on the ride back to the castle yesterday, you hit your head without my knowledge, or I am finally meeting the real Duke of Darnley. I am not the one who has misunderstood, and I will not allow you to confuse me into believing that I am.”

Her anger seared inside her veins, burning in her chest until she could not breathe. It clouded her mind with thick, dark smoke, obscuring her ability to think clearly.

Why? The question continued to pulse in her head, for she was unwilling to admit that she was still asking it because she had not liked the answer.

How could it be that she was mistaken? How could those kisses and embraces and romantic wanders be nothing?

Mean nothing? How could a man change his mind so quickly?

Beatrice would know.

Cyrus straightened up, his face blank. “Think what you will of me. Hate me if you must. It will not change my decision.” He dipped his head as though he meant to leave. “I hope you will be content here; I mean that sincerely.”

As he began to move past her, Teresa grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt, the sudden motion nearly knocking her off her feet. “No.”

“Pardon?”

“No, Your Grace , I hope that you will be content here,” she replied coldly. “You do not need to leave this gloomy, isolated castle of yours. I will leave and go back to my family. If my husband is not here, there is no reason for me to stay.”

He stared down at her hand on his arm and though she willed him to, he did not take hold of it. “Do as you wish.” He lifted her gaze to meet hers. “I will not be here, either way. The castle is yours; it will be your home to return to, should you choose to do so.”

It was the moment she understood that this was actually happening. He was leaving her, stuffing his affection for her among his belongings and taking off to Bath without looking back. He was standing there, breaking her heart into a million pieces, and did not have the good grace to say “sorry.”

Whoever this man was, he was not the Cyrus she had come to know.

Perhaps, he was a figment all along.

“Farewell, then,” she said curtly, pulling her hand back and turning on her heel to limp away.

Indeed, she would not give him the satisfaction of being the one to leave first… nor would she allow him to see the tears that rolled down her cheeks, dripping down onto the earth where no flowers would grow, after all. For their marriage had been nothing but a Fool’s Spring.