Page 37 of Yours Always
Chapter 22
Sarah blinkedagainst the soft light slipping through the linen curtains. The quiet pressed in, too soft to be morning, too heavy to feel like peace. She shifted, her palm pressing against the floor as she rose slowly from the makeshift bed, still wrapped in the pile of blankets Matthew had laid out for her the night before. The room held the ghost of what had passed; its warmth, its fire, the memory of Matthew’s lips on hers. The way they had sat by the hearth, tethered to sanity by shared stories of Benjamin, laughing through tears until sleep had stolen her, her hand still resting in his.
Now, in the clarity of daylight, it felt like a dream slipping through her fingers the harder she tried to hold on to it. Matthew stood across the room pacing in front of the door, tension clung to him, etched in every line of his frame. His hair was tousled,his expression drawn. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. “Matty?” she whispered. “Is everything alright?”
He turned to her, startled, like he hadn’t realized she was awake. He froze, mid-step, as if caught doing something he shouldn't. His eyes were wide, and frantic, but his voice, when it came, was calm and steady. “You need to go, Lizzy. Before someone sees you.”
Sarah blinked, the fog of sleep still clinging to her mind. “What do you mean?” Her voice was quiet as she rubbed at her eyes, forcing her mind to keep up. He turned to face her fully now. “You stood at my door in the middle of the night. If anyone finds out, even just that, your reputation would be in ruins.”
“Matthew, I came to talk. That’s all.” She stood slowly, but the weight of his words had already begun to settle in her bones. He scoffed, and raked a hand through his hair. “But we didn’t just talk, Lizzy.” Her cheeks flushed. “I am aware of that.”
He turned his face aside, the muscle in his jaw tensing, the silence between them heavier than anything either of them could name. “Do you regret kissing me?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Yes.” His voice was hoarse. Sarah felt her heart fall straight to the floor.
When he saw the devastation in her eyes, his own gaze softened, the regret flickering just beneath the surface. “No...” he whispered. “But it doesn’t matter what I feel. It only matters what it will cost you.” He moved toward her, then faltered, caught in the space between wanting and restraint. “If the Duke finds out, if he hears even a whisper, he won’t marry you. He can’t. His title wouldn’t allow it.”
Sarah flinched as though the very air had struck her. He had held her and kissed her like she belonged to him, now he was speaking as though none of it had meant anything, as though he still intended to let her marry another man.
Sarah refused to look away. “You think he would cast me aside that easily?” It was a challenge, veiled as a question. She wasn’t ready to speak the truth. Matthew’s gaze faltered for the briefest moment. “Not because he wants to,” he said quietly. “Because he would have no choice.” The moment settled between them heavy, cold, and impossible to lift.
For just a breath, his resolve cracked and she saw it all: Everything he had ever tried to shield her from—the whispers, the judgment, the grief—it was carved into the set of his shoulders now. Everything that had happened to Mary, to Benjamin, to them. It had finally caught up with him, and he looked like he might crumble beneath the weight of it.
Her chest tightened. “You didn’t ruin me, Matty.” She spoke gently, her voice soft with memory, trying desperately to call back the man who had held her so gently just hours before. “It was just a kiss...”
His gaze snapped to hers, cold and dark, the softness gone. “That doesn’t matter.” His voice was low, sharp. “Society will believe what it wants.” He turned from her, not in dismissal, but as if the very act of looking at her now cost more than he was willing to bear. “I shouldn’t have let you stay,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
She took a step toward him. The space between them felt impossibly wide. Her voice trembled, barely holding. “You don’t mean that...”
“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.” The words landed between them, sharp and aching. “You are marrying the Duke.” He said it so softly, Sarah wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.
She kept her eyes locked on him, each breath felt like a climb uphill. Her heart beat so loudly she thought he must hear it. “No, I’m not,” she said. Matthew’s head jerked up. “What?”
“The engagement…” she repeated, her voice steadier now, much calmer than she felt. “...I broke it off.”
The words landed between them like thunder after lightning; sudden, deafening, and final. He stared at her, stunned. Sarah simply waited; for relief, for joy, for anything that might look like hope. But he said nothing.
The silence splintered something inside her. She gave a hollow laugh, blinking fast against the tears that burned behind her eyes. “But that doesn’t matter to you, does it?” Her voice cracked, thin and bitter. She swallowed hard, the truth tumbling out before she could stop it.
“It was never about the Duke. Not really.” The realization hit like a wave, not new, but inescapable now. It hollowed her out even as she spoke it aloud. “You had already decided to let me go, before I even had the chance to decide if I wanted you to.”
Matthew inhaled sharply. Hook a step forward, but stopped again. That was answer enough. Sarah took in a breath shallow and shaken, and then she turned toward the door. Each step echoing like a heartbeat in the stillness.
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Matthew stood frozen, staring at the place where she had been. Her words echoed in the silence.I broke it off.
He hadn't known he could feel both hope and devastation in the same breath, but now he did. Still he hadn’t moved, he hadn’t spoken. At the sound of her footsteps fading down the hall, every ounce of resolve he’d clung to began to unravel.
He should have stopped her. He should have said something—anything. But he hadn't, because if he let himself believe there was still a chance, he would take it. And he couldn’t, not when he had nothing to offer her but ruin.
His hands curled into fists at his sides. Letting her go had always been the only choice. He had made it again and again,and he would keep making it until it stopped hurting, or until it broke him entirely.
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Matthew hadn’t stepped foot inside the Rockwell’s home since the week before Benjamin’s death. Even now, as the footman took his coat and led him down the familiar corridor, he felt like he was walking through a memory. Everything smelled the same, clove and cedarwood with a faint trace of lemon from the polished floors. He knew as soon as he saw Grace that nothing would ever feel the same again.
She stood when he entered the drawing room, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was thinner, paler. There were hollows beneath her eyes that hadn’t been there before. But still she held her head high, her composure unshaken, just as she always had. “Matthew,” she said, her voice soft. He managed a small smile. “Hello, Gracie.”
She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his chest and held her there, fiercely, like he was trying to hold together the broken pieces of both their hearts. They stood like that for a long time. Neither spoke. The silence between them was full of too much. Finally, she pulled back just enough to look up at him. “You look awful.” Matthew gave a rough laugh. “I feel worse.”
