Page 81 of The Duke's Return
“Right, yes, of course, Your Grace. I only… We must…” His valet cleared his throat then spoke again like he had practiced his words. “Would you like to read your letter before I fetch your writing desk and instruments?”
It took a moment to conceive of the words.
“My letter?” Julian echoed dumbly. Then he slowly reached for the paper tucked neatly beside the tea as an ill-boding feeling settled low into his stomach. He didn’t know what this could mean. What it should mean. Only that he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever happened next.
His valet murmured something Julian didn’t hear, then stepped back.
Seeing the writing on the other side of the fold made him freeze. He had only seen Genevieve’s writing a few times, but he would recognize the neat penmanship anywhere. She had a way of curving her letters the closer she turned to the sides, which was a silly and darling little thing to see.
‘Julian,
‘I know you’re taking your leave soon. I won’t make assumptions as to where or what you are up to, only that it is clear we must go in our separate directions. I’ve taken my leave; the household was ordered not to share this with youuntil a certain time, so do not blame them. I’ve gone to stay with Lady Phoebe for a spell before I sort out my next decision.
‘The current decision here, however, is explicitly clear. That is thanks to you. Our estrangement worked when we were complete strangers. This month has opened my eyes in more ways than one. We are no longer strangers, I fear, and for that reason, I cannot remain married to you.
‘I request an annulment from you in this marriage immediately. Do as you will with the powers that be to make this happen. Free us both. I’ll keep to myself to avoid scandal. I can even leave England if that is what is required. Only I shall no longer consent to spend the rest of my life married to a man who will constantly refuse me.
‘Submit the official paperwork to Parliament by week’s end, if you so please, or I shall take upon the effort myself. I have already made an agreement with another solicitor should you refuse.
‘Do take care of yourself,
‘Genevieve’
A short laugh escaped him. “What the devil?” It shouldn’t be. Julian stared at the letter, and reread it twice more before it began to dawn on him.
She had left him. This morning, she had taken her leave––and was determined to be free of him for good.
His stomach plummeted. Taking a seat, Julian struggled to breathe. He tried to understand what she was saying. What she wanted. Didn’t he do more than enough for her? He’d given her a raise of pin money. He had told her they would never have tosee her again. This month was all that was required for them to go their separate ways. How could she want more?
“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” his valet asked hopefully.
Julian jerked his head up. “Yes. Yes, of course it is. The duchess’s friend appears to be ill. I’m glad she… she left.”
He felt sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t sit there and mope. Forcing himself to move, Julian had to eat his food. Then he took the planned ride, had planned conversations that went in one ear and out the other. He kept his body as busy as possible in order to stop thinking about the woman who had left him.
It can’t be real. It’s all in jest. She’s angry and she’s doing this to get back to me.
It wasn’t like he wished for her to come back, Julian told himself. The relationship wasn’t meant to work. He didn’t want love. Neither could they even love one another. They simply… had chemistry and it was never going to be enough.
The day went on too long before he decided to retire, stewing late into the evening about the absence of his wife. He had been so prepared to leave her behind. It was supposed to be for the best. Instead, she had already gone.
Perhaps it is best this way. I don’t have to worry that she thinks I’m running away from her or some other silly notion.
Julian returned to London and took up in another house he’d once used as his bachelor pad. There were only a few servants and few knew he was there. It was for the best, he told himself.
At least until I find out where she is. If she is still with Lady Phoebe. Or anyone else.
“So the rumors are true.”
Glancing up, Julian raised an eyebrow at his friend, Sebastian. Lord Vale, the Duke of Eastmoor, was a giant of a man with an easy-going manner. He smiled as he took a seat at Julian’s side.
“We weren’t sure if you were here or not. Thought you might still be out in Southwick. The country air seemed to agree with you and the duchess,” his friend carried on.
Julian scowled. The place already stank with cigars and the annoying chatter of lords who gossiped too much. He didn’t need this from a friend. And yet Sebastian had brought over a bottle of brandy, so he grudgingly filled up his glass.
“I’m here,” was all he said in reply.
“And the wife?”
