Page 85 of Duke of Pride

“I am really leaving.”

“Will this—?” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Is this going to make you happy?”

Yes? No?

Victoria looked over his shoulder, biting her lower lip. She was hurt once by this man. It will take her a while to mend what was left of her broken heart. If she were to let go in his arms again, would she ever recover?

Fear won.

“Yes,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze. “This will make me happy.”

He nodded, biting his lip. He took a step back, then another. His body went stiff, and he folded his hands behind his back.

“Then I wish you good luck and all happiness.” Then, he added, “Miss Victoria.”

A bitter taste filled her mouth. The lid was closed on whatever this was that they had shared. One nail was hammered. She took a deep breath and drove in the other.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

They looked at each other, begging themselves, the other, the world to break, to stop this nonsense. But no one did. So, Victoria curtsied—by far the most absurd thing she had ever done—and left.

The moment she was in the hallway to her room, she let the tears fall.

She hurried into her room and slammed the door shut, sliding down to the floor. Everything faded away—the ball in her honor, the letter in her reticule, the last look he gave her. Only her pain remained.

It would be the last thing she would carry from him. And she knew part of her would always ache.

CHAPTER23

Trigonometry

If Stephen thought he was in Hell before, after Victoria left his house in the middle of the night, he was now learning the true meaning of the word. At least before, he had that stupid, lingering hope that he could see her around, visiting his mother, attending his sister’s balls—somewhere in the social scene. Sure, he could watch her from afar, perhaps exchange small talk, but she would still be there.

But now?

“Prussia… Two years? Maybe more. Maybe forever.”

The words carved through him like a dull blade, slow and brutal. He was startled by the sound of broken glass. Through his haze, he looked down and saw the empty, shattered decanter of brandy on the floor.

When did he drink the whole thing again?

He stumbled to the door, ready to shout the only command he had been giving his butler over the past few days.Brandy. But when he opened the door, he found Frederick.

“I swear to God, Stephen,” his brother-in-law hissed as he pushed him back into the study, “if I have to leave Annabelle’s side to come and see you in this state, I will drown you myself in a barrel of the most expensive brandy.”

Stephen laughed. “Bring me that barrel now and watch me,” he slurred.

“Look at you!”

Stephen threw his head back and looked around. He had some whiskey in here for some special occasion, right? Didn’t get more special than him wishing for death.

“Stephen!”

Frederick was losing what little patience he had left. Before Stephen could take another staggering step toward his liquor cabinet, his brother-in-law seized him by the collar and dragged him out of the study.

“What the devil—?” Stephen spluttered.

He struggled against Frederick’s iron grip, but he was too drunk to fight.

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