Page 23 of The Broken Marchioness (Lords of Inconvenience #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

S ilence extended between them.

Frederica kept on staring at Allan, knowing that though he may not agree with her, this was for the best.

Look at the state he was in now because of her! Look at the pain she was causing him because she was not the bride he wanted. How could she go on forcing him to live like this?

There was another reason though why she had made this decision. Whilst they were married, he was in danger. Lord Wetherington may well have intended to carry out one of his threats from that afternoon, and she couldn’t take that risk.

She cared for Allan too much to let it happen.

Slowly, he downed what was left in his glass and put it down beside himself on the table, the clink loud and echoing between them. Then he slowly stood and faced her.

“I need an explanation,” he said.

“What?”

“An explanation,” he said again. “What did I do wrong? I have welcomed you into this house as best I could. I even told you to change it in any way you wanted, to make it your home. I’ve bought gifts for you, taken you on walks, tried to talk to you, so I could know you better, and every step of the way you have frustrated me, turned your back on me…”

He paused, releasing a shuddery breath of his own. “Now, after trying so much, you want nothing more to do with me at all?”

Frederica felt her heart break into pieces in her chest. Tears stung her eyes as she understood what true heartbreak felt like — for this was it. The knowledge she was causing such pain to both her and him brought something into stark relief.

I’ve been falling in love with him.

“It’s not easy to explain,” she said, her breath hitching as she attempted to hold back her tears.

“You have to give me something. What is it that I have done which would make you dislike me so much?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“ You have done nothing wrong.” She stepped toward him, laying a hand to the center of his chest. “You are the best of men, Allan.”

He shook his head, clearly not wanting to hear the words.

“Then why would you wish to be rid of me?”

“Because it is for the best. I…” She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that somehow in all this mess, her heart had become his even as she had been trying to keep it safe, but what good would that do?

Something she knew all too well about Allan now was that he would go to any lengths to protect her. If she told him that she was doing this to protect him, he would defy her. He would tell her that he’d gladly take the risk of his own life, that it was not her task to protect him, but she couldn’t allow that.

Lord Wetherington was vicious. She couldn’t take the risk of him hurting Allan.

I have to lie. It is the only way that Allan will let me go.

“I…” She started again, tears escaping down her cheek now. “I do not love you, Allan.” Her heart ached with the lie. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” She struggled to even get through the words, for this was truly exactly where she wanted to be.

Now that she was faced with the fact she wouldn’t be waking up here every day, she wanted all of it. She wanted breakfast beside Allan, as he poured her tea and she added the smoked fish to his plate. She wanted to walk with him in the rose garden, to play the harp, and talk to him about their dreams of the future.

I want to have children with this man.

The thought burned her, and more tears fell.

“Then why are you crying?” Allan asked, tears filling his own eyes though he put up a better fight than she did and didn’t let them fall. He looked suddenly distant, his face turning away.

She half wondered if he knew something, suspected something, just from the way he refused to look at her.

“Because I’m going to miss you,” she whispered.

“Not enough,” he said, his voice suddenly deep with emotion.

Then he stepped back, and her hand dropped from the center of his chest. There was coldness and distance emanating off him.

She saw Allan and Lord Wetherington side by side in her mind. Her rejection of Lord Wetherington had been met with threats and his attempt to force her into affection, but not Allan. He was too good and pure of heart. He was relenting to her now, moving back from her, shaking his head, but accepting it all the same.

“As you wish,” he said, his voice so deep that she barely recognized it. “I will have the annulment drawn up by my lawyers tomorrow if that is what you want.”

“It is,” she lied, biting her lip in an attempt to stop her sobs as he walked toward the door.

She couldn’t bear for these to be the last words between them.

“Allan?” she called.

He halted in the doorway, his back to her but stopping all the same.

“I’m so sorry.” Her words made his shoulders flinch, as if she had struck him.

I’m doing this to protect you. It’s the only way I know how.

These words were on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped them from escaping.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said over his shoulder. “If I had known how miserable you’d be when married to me, I wouldn’t have asked you.”

Then he left, marching away across the corridor. When she heard his feet on the staircase, any last ounce of strength she had in her vanished. She capitulated into the chair he had just vacated, her great sobs wracking her breath. She even reached for the glass he had been drinking from and poured her own drink though she barely sipped any of it for she was crying so much.

It’s all for you, Allan. All to protect you.

Yet it would be a secret she would always have to keep to herself.

* * *

Frederica rose in the early hours of the morning. It was still so early that the sun hadn’t yet fully risen, and it cast a grey light across the space. She raised her head, realizing what it was that had woken her.

In the doorway stood Lucy.

“My Lady,” Lucy whispered, her face bearing an expression of utter sadness, “you asked me to wake you early?”

“Thank you, Lucy.” Frederica nodded and dragged herself out of the bed.

Lucy set to at once, packing a bag for Frederica to take with her. Lucy even shed a tear, prompting Frederica to offer up a handkerchief.

“We’re going to miss you here,” Lucy said sadly as she packed another pair of shoes in the bag. “Where will you go?”

“To my aunt’s,” Frederica said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she pulled on her stockings. “She has always been my happy place. My safe place. I think it’s where I need to be now.”

Lucy nodded, adding more stockings to the bag too.

“Would you do me a favor, Lucy?”

“Of course.”

“If another man comes calling at this house, asking for me, would you promise not to tell him where I have gone, please?”

This question clearly caught Lucy’s interest. She nodded though she chewed her lip in confusion all the same.

“Thank you.” Frederica stood to finish getting changed.

“Would you like to take these with you?” Lucy gestured to the new gowns that Allan had purchased for her.

For a mad minute, Frederica debated leaving them behind. They were, after all, bought by Allan for his wife, and she had not proved to be a particularly good wife. Yet the thought of leaving them behind hurt her too much.

“I’d like to take them, please.” She was careful to pack the correspondence box he had gifted her too. She didn’t think he could have given her a better present, for that box had given her the freedom to speak to whomever she wished. She smiled as she ran her fingers over the fine silk, thinking of all the many kind things Allan had done for her. “He’s the best of men, isn’t he?”

“Who?” Lucy said distractedly as she packed the bag.

“Allan.” Her answer made Lucy trip on the other side of the bag.

“If you think that, then why…” Lucy trailed off. “Forgive me, I should not ask such questions.”

“Sometimes we do things we don’t want to do because we know we have to. That’s all.” Frederica sighed and pulled her shoes on. As she retrieved a pelisse, she turned to face the mirror and looked at her reflection.

She had slept very poorly indeed as was evidenced by the paleness of her skin and the heavy bags under her eyes.

“Wait. Before we go, there is something I want to do.” She reached for the correspondence box again and retrieved a clean slip of paper.

As Lucy packed the toilette box and some final things, Frederica sat down at a writing bureau in the corner of the room and began to write, spending a lot of time dwelling on what she should say. When it was done, she folded up the paper and slipped it under the door that connected her chamber to Allan.

We never even used that door.

Frederica breathed deeply, stopping any tears from falling as she turned her back on the door.

“It’s time,” she said to Lucy.

Together, they made their way out of the chamber and down the stairs, carrying the two bags Frederica was to take with her. In the entrance hall, they found Mrs. Long who was pacing restlessly.

“My Lady, I have ensured the carriage is arranged for you.”

“Thank you for your kindness, and I don’t just mean today,” Frederica said softly. “I am truly grateful for all that you have done for me.”

Mrs. Long smiled sadly as did Lucy at her side.

“We are only sorry to be losing you,” Mrs. Long whispered.

“Can I ask something more of you?” Frederica said softly.

“Of course.”

Frederica took a minute to go on. She had already asked Lucy to keep her destination a secret, in case Lord Wetherington should come calling, but she needed to go a step further.

It would take a day or two for the news of her disappearance and the following annulment to get out into the ton, and in the meantime, she didn’t want Lord Wetherington to come anywhere near Allan.

“Watch over Allan,” she pleaded.

“I always do,” Mrs. Long assured her.

“I know you do, but I mean… really watch over him. If there are any strangers who come to the house — anyone whose presence in which he is particularly uneasy — would you ensure that he is not left alone, please?” Her strange question made Mrs. Long and Lucy exchange an odd look, but they agreed all the same, nodding. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Now, I must part.”

She was helped into the carriage by Mrs. Long and Lucy. Her bags were packed at the rear of the carriage though she didn’t leave in a hurry. Frederica spent what felt like five full minutes staring up at the house, committing each part of it to her memory though it was not enough.

What she really wanted was to see Allan again, to commit every part of him to her memory, but that opportunity had now gone. If she was to keep him safe, then she had to ensure their paths didn’t cross again.

“Goodbye, Allan,” she whispered into the air. With a final wave to Mrs. Long and Lucy, she climbed into the carriage.

The door was closed, and the carriage pulled her away.

Much as Honora had done, she leaned out of the window, trying to keep the house in sight for as long as she possibly could. Her eyes tarried on the window of Allan’s bedchamber, but the curtains remained firmly closed.