Page 51 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
“Are you sure?” she asked. “What I mean is, perhaps, your father did offer the vase, but maybe that is not the only reason why Lord Strawbridge asked for your hand.”
Lydia shook her head sadly.
“I am certain,” she said. “It never made sense to me as to why he would ask to marry me just out of the blue. Father confirmed everything.” She put her face in her hands and sobbed. “Oh, Mary, what will I do?”
Mary held her friend in silence for a moment.
“Do you think there is any chance of redemption for your marriage?” she asked.
Lydia shook her head slowly.
“I cannot forgive a man who could lie to me like this,” she said. “Neither one of them, I don’t think.”
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Lydia's heart ached with betrayal, her love for Michael now tainted by the bitter taste of deception.
“Well, he would be getting what he deserves,” Mary said after a long silence. “We should have known he was bad news. His reputation did try to precede him, after all.”
Lydia sobbed again, fishing out her handkerchief and dabbing at her constantly leaking eyes.
“I took the time to get to know him, Mary,” she said, sobbing quietly. “I saw more of him than anyone could have imagined him capable of doing and feeling. There were some wonderful things about him. That’s what makes this so much harder.”
Mary looked at Lydia, puzzled.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Lydia sighed, hating herself for the timing of her realization.
“I have fallen for him, Mary,” Lydia whispered, her voice barely audible. “But now I know our marriage is a sham. How can I live with a man who has deceived me so cruelly? He has not even consummated our union, and now I know why – he never truly cared for me at all.”
Mary's eyes filled with tears as she listened to her friend's anguish.
“Then, what will you do?” she asked.
Lydia bit her lip, holding up the letter she had just written.
“I have already made my decision,” Lydia replied, her voice growing stronger with newfound determination. “I will send a carriage back to Strawbridge to collect my belongings, along with a letter for Michael.”
Mary nodded, glancing down at the paper in Lydia’s hand.
“What does the letter say?” Mary asked, her curiosity piqued.
Lydia looked down at her hands, which were now clenched into fists. “I have told him the truth – that I know about his deceit, and that our marriage is over. I shall never return to Strawbridge,” she said.
Mary looked at her with worry.
“But what of the school?” she asked.
Lydia sighed.
“I suppose I will have to go back to oversee it,” she said. “At least, for a little while. But I will never return to the manor house. And I will never speak to him again.”
Mary nodded.
“Well, I am right here to support you, darling,” she said, embracing Lydia once more.
Lydia relished their embrace, allowing her friend to give her comfort.
“Thank you, Mary,” she said. “Come. I must get this letter and the carriage off before it gets too late.”
