“Thank you,” she said warmly.
Greta described more about the bushes and flowers around them, as well as the colors of the birds that lingered nearby the group as they ate. It sounded like a scene straight out of a storybook, and Cecily imagined it was beautiful. But she couldn’t help noticing that Val said less and less as they ate, andthat he felt more tensewith every passing moment.
“This was a wonderful idea,” she said again, hoping to get her husband to relax and enjoy himself as he had in the previous days.
Val patted her hand, but he was cold and clammy, as though he was nervous. His nervous energy was not exciting. It was not completely readable to her, but it made her heart heavy.
“I thought you would enjoy it,” he said, his voice lacking any emotion.
Cecily thought back to the past few days to see if there was something she might have done to upset Val. But if he was unhappy with her, he wouldn’t have brought her on such a lovely picnic. However, she knew something was troubling him, and it was clearly affecting him greatly. She was sure that if he would just talk to her, she could help with whatever it was.
At last, she put aside her plate and her empty champagne glass, which she heard him promptly refill.
“Val,” she asked, looking directly at him as he put the fresh glass in her hand. “Is something bothering you? You seem strange today. You are very quiet, and I can sense that something has you quite distracted.”
When Val’s posture changed beside her, she knew that she had been right. Something was deeply disturbing him. She grew very concerned, and she reached for her husband’s hands. But for the first time, he withdrew them quickly and it sounded like he turned his face away from her.
“Cecily,” he said. “I think I made a mistake.”
Cecily looked at him with confusion.
“The picnic is wonderful, Val, I really enjoy it,” she asked.
She heard Val huff, and she thought he was shaking his head.
“No, not with the picnic,” he said, his voice strained and filled with agony. “But with our marriage. It was a mistake.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Val stared at the hurt expression on the Duchess’s beautiful face. Part of him wanted to immediately retract his words. After so many days of seeing her face lit with the loveliest smile he had ever seen, the pain and confusion that now replaced it tore at his insides. But it was because of that lovely smile that he knew he must stand firm. Even as she shook her head and gave him a baffled, but warm smile.
“I do not agree, Val,” she said softly. “Things have been great between us. We have had such wonderful times together over the past week. And we have shared very difficult things with one another. We are doing well, and I believe that we will only continue to get on even better.”
She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she bit her lip. Her eyes were pleading with him to agree and retract what he had said. Nausea overcame him, and he feared he would lose the little food he had eaten that day. He shook his head firmly, despite the fact that his wife could not see him, trying to get control of himself once more.
“No,” he said, trying to sound determined. “This was a terrible mistake. I should have never offered for your hand in marriage. It was a horrible decision, for both of us.”
When desperation filled Cecily’s eyes, Val had to look away. He wondered if it was truly worse to let her remain with him, being the hideous beast he was, than to toy with her emotions and make her believe that he did not care for her.
For a moment, he was unsure what was the right thing to do. He began to wonder if he should have at least spoken with his mother or Henry before he made his decision. But then, he felt Cecily’s bare hand on his cheek. His scarred cheek. The sudden sensation caught him completely off guard, and he hastily pulled away.
“You do not mean that,” Cecily said, but she no longer sounded sure of herself. As much as it pained Val, he knew that he needed to take advantage of her uncertainty. He regretted pulling away from his wife with everything in him. But for that moment, it served his purpose well.
“Cecily,” he said, putting all his energy into keeping his voice steady and unwavering. “This is all wrong. I have made up my mind. I am sending you home to be with your family once more. It is in your best interest to be reunited with the people who love and care for you.” Bile rose in his throat and threatened to escape from his lips, but he tightened his jaw and forced it down.
When Cecily began to cry, however, he could not stand himself any longer. He quickly rose to his feet, looking away from his wife and motioning for Greta to come to them. He did not look at the maid either, as she helped her mistress to stand. But he could feel the terrible cold glare she was giving him, and he knew he deserved it.
“Prepare Cecily’s things,” he said, his voice threatening to crack. “The both of you are to depart for London at once.”
He could feel Cecily’s pain and confusion radiating off her like the heat radiating off the summer sun. It killed him to sense such heartache in his wife, but he knew he could not falter.
Even if she didn’t understand right then, he could not allow himself to become weak. In time, she would come to see that it was for the best. He was sending her away because it was the right thing to do. He was doing it because there could never be anything truly romantic between them.
No,he realized with painful clarity.I am sending her away because I am madly in love with her.
Only once the thought was fully formed did he realize that it was true. He had told himself as he battled with the decision that he was doing it because there could be no real love between them.
But he had to admit to himself that he was doing it because there was. At least, he felt real love for Cecily. And, perhaps, she could come to believe that she loved him, too. But that simply was not possible.
