Page 159 of Rogue of My Heart

He abruptly drained his glass with an angry scoff. Well, wasn’t I just the self-sacrificing hero?

He’d subjected himself to a life of celibacy and isolation — for what?

Albina had treated him with the same reserve he’d left her with in London, yet she still maintained the ability to rip his heart out of his chest. All this time he’d been under the false hope that things would change, that when she returned it would be like when they’d first met. Sparks would fly, and the passion would reignite. Personally, his feelings hadn’t ebbed with time. If nothing else, their absence had made his emotions grow stronger.

But she had just treated him as if they were strangers.

* * *

He closed his eyes. Perhaps all of this was a fool’s errand. He wanted to win Albina’s heart back, but if he failed, he wasn’t sure he could endure to let her go a second time.

In truth, it might very well destroy him.

Three

A lady must always keep her composure…

Lady A’s Advice Column

* * *

Albina’s fork scraped lightly against the side of her plate, yet the sound grated on her nerves as if a handful of nails had trailed down a schoolroom slate. Even though she had assured Michael that the parlor would be fine, she had returned downstairs in a simple, green muslin dress and found that the dining room was open and set with two place settings

— at opposite ends of the massive table.

It was nearly impossible to speak to one another, so they had greeted each other politely upon arrival and sat down to eat in a silence so deafening that even the ticking of the clock on the mantel caused her to grit her teeth in irritation.

She lifted her wineglass to her lips, only to find that it was empty.

With an inward sigh, she set it to the side and pushed her half-eaten stew away as she rose to her feet. “I believe I shall retire.”

“Of course.”

Her husband’s disconnected voice was the last straw. Albina clenched her fists before she said something she shouldn’t, then she turned and walked out of the room.

Instead of returning to her chamber, she found herself walking to the conservatory. It was the only place she could think of that might muffle a frustrated scream. She had used it as a place to escape on numerous occasions when she had lived here. The warmth of the enclosed, glass structure and the fragrant scent of flowers and herbs had gone far to soothe her troubles.

But when she opened the door, she froze in horror. The room was completely bare. Not even a speck of soil could be found. The only thing that remained was the possibility of life. It wasn’t even that warm anymore, the glass around her now cold and unfeeling. Nothing.

It was too much.

Albina collapsed against the wall, the breath knocked out of her as surely as if she’d fallen. Violent tremors wracked her body as if her very soul was breaking apart from her human form. And perhaps it was. It had taken a bleak conservatory for her to admit the truth — that she was but a former shell of an otherwise happy existence.

“Albina?”

* * *

The softly spoken, masculine query had her swiping at her tear-streaked face as she turned to glare at him. She was suddenly very angry at Michael. Not only had he ruined her safe haven, but he had interrupted her at one of her weakest moments. “Where are all the flowers?” she asked a bit harshly.

He hesitated, eyeing her steadily. “I never had much of a green thumb, so I didn’t see the need in keeping up with something I was no good at.”

Albina clutched the edge of a bare table until her knuckles turned white. She stared at the stark emptiness before her and felt new tears blur her vision. “It was my favorite room at Beauley Hall,” she whispered.

“And now it’s… gone. You ruined it.”

“What did you expect me to do?” he countered gruffly. “Let it grow out of control?” He snorted. “You weren’t here. I didn’t see any point in paying for the upkeep.”

“It would have been better than erasing it all as if it never existed.”