Page 63 of His Temporary Duchess

Hurt split her heart wide; she felt almost as though she ought to have heard the cracking for herself, the way an ancient tree was timbered. Down, down, down. The pain of it was a scream insideher chest, and if she was anywhere else, she would have given in to the urge to cry. It hurt to breathe.

How could he do this to her when she had done nothing but love him?

She dropped her head in her hands. Five minutes, that was all she would allow herself. Five minutes in which to grieve the life she had thought she would share with Sebastian. Five minutes to grieve the husband she’d thought she had.

Then, when it was over, when she could finally draw in a full breath, she would give him what he wanted. She loved him enough for that, at least. He might never have loved her back, but she cared for him enough to leave. Once she had disappeared from his life, she would find a way of picking up the pieces.

A life without Sebastian in it. The empty years stretched pointlessly ahead of her, and she drew in a jagged breath. A tear escaped, and she forced it back.

Later. She would cry later.

Five minutes passed all too quickly, but when she raised her head, her resolve was set. She found his ink pot and pen under the mass of other correspondence, and found a sheet of paper. Quickly—she must be quick, before he returned. Better she not see him now, and then he would never know precisely how deeply he had ruined her.

Dear Sebastian, she wrote.It has come to my attention that you are not happy in this marriage and would rather leave it. Learning this grieves me beyond all belief. When I vowed I would stay by your side, I meant it. I thought we could grow to love each other and build a life together. However, I was mistaken. That is not your desire. Thus, by the time you read this, I shall be gone. Annulment I believe is out of the question, but we can live separate lives. That way, you may allow your feelings for certain others to take precedence in a way I’m sure you would not contemplate while I still lived under your roof. She contemplated underlining this section for emphasis, then decided not to. Although her heart did hold anger and bitterness, the emotions she felt the most were love and grief.

I want nothing more than your happiness, and I understand now that I cannot be the reason behind this. You will never see me again.

With all my love,

Eleanor

She folded the letter and kissed it before leaving it on the table and hurrying from the room, calling for Abigail and instructing her to pack a small trunk. She would allow herself fifteen minutes to leave and no longer. When she was gone, Sebastian would find her note and understand that she was letting him go. Perhaps, at first, he might be angry. He did not like his will tested. But soon, he would see it was for the best.

“Come along, Scrunch,” she murmured, her nose stinging and the inevitable tears encroaching. Olivia would understand—her friend would shelter her and comfort her broken heart. One thing was for sure: she could never go back to Margaret. “Say your goodbyes, because we will never come here again.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sebastian returned to the house tired and covered in mud. His initial intention had been, when he’d arrived home earlier to find his wife ignoring him, to have a conversation over dinner, but now it seemed he would be late to that, too.

He toed off his boots in the entrance hall, leaving them for his valet to attempt to restore as he padded across the cold floor, irritated with himself and the world. Of all times for an urgent message to be delivered, and about something he could have handled another day.

What a way to end what had been a trying day.

He glanced at the bruising sky. Late, very late. He would have to beg Eleanor’s forgiveness. Hopefully, she understood that when his steward had summoned him because his prize cattle had escaped and rampaged into the local village, there was little he could do but attend the scene, assist the farmers, and hand out shillings liberally to cover damages.

“Your Grace.” The butler, his face familiar now that he had been at the house for almost a full month. Sebastian felt the weight of that. A fullmonth. When was the last time he had employed a servant for so long?

“Where is my wife?” Sebastian asked, freeing himself of his muddied coat. “I’ll speak with her, then send someone to heat some water for a bath. I’m filthy.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The man hesitated. Peters? Kellen? Sebastian would remember soon enough; he worked well and he could think of no reason to end his position.

“What is it?”

“About your wife, sir. I regret to say…” He swallowed. “It pains me to inform you that she isn’t here.”

Sebastian blinked. His chest tightened as he drew in a breath. “What do you mean? Of course she’s here. I left her here.”

“I hoped you might have known where she left to, Your Grace.” The butler looked apologetic. “She, err… she took Abigail with her.”

“Abigail?”

“Her lady’s maid, sir.”

Of course. The one she had asked to keep all that time ago. It felt like half a lifetime. Sebastian looked around the darkening hallway, a footman with a lit taper lighting the lamps. “She’s gone,” he repeated, then shook himself. “When? Where?”

“Over an hour ago. She called for the carriage and asked to be directed to London. When the coachman returns, if he does, we can ask him, sir.”

When the coachman returned. But when would that be? Too long, almost certainly.