Page 80 of Duke of Gold
Morgan stepped inside, his expression unreadable as he shut the door firmly behind him. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low but insistent.
Margaret whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing. “Am I all right?” she repeated, her voice trembling with incredulity. “You have the audacity to ask me that?”
“Is it so wrong to inquire about my wife’s welfare?” he returned, his tone calm but with an edge of irritation. “Especially since she left our home and came to Town without so much as a word?”
Margaret’s chest heaved as her anger surged. “You seem to have forgotten thatyousent me away, Morgan,” she said, her voice rising with each word. “And that castle never welcomed me as a home.Younever made it such for me.”
“I made arrangements for you—a new residence, as per our agreement,” he said, his voice clipped and defensive.
“Your arrangements were nothing more than a dismissal,” Margaret shot back, her hurt spilling over into her words. “You have no space for me in your life, Morgan. So what exactly is it that you want now?”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and she turned away, her hands trembling as she gripped the back of a nearby chair. She did not want this confrontation, not now. She lacked the strength to battle with him when her heart was already in tatters.
Morgan opened his mouth as though to speak, but no sound emerged. His lips parted again, only for the words to falter once more. Margaret watched him, her chest tightening as the silence stretched between them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he found his voice.
“The renovations are complete,” he said at last, his tone low and uneven. “You can move in once we return to the country.”
The words struck her like a physical blow, twisting painfully in her chest. She stared at him, her breath catching as his detachment settled over her. What had she been hoping for? That he would ask her back into his life, into his heart? That he would cast aside his icy demeanor and tell her that he wanted her by his side?
Foolish, foolish girl.
“There is nowe, Morgan,” Margaret said, her voice trembling but firm. “Not anymore.”
She turned sharply on her heel, refusing to give him the opportunity to reply. Her vision blurred as tears welled, unbidden and unstoppable. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she quickened her pace.
CHAPTER 37
Morgan’s fingers curled into a painful fist as he watched Margaret walk away, her back rigid with resolve. She had merely exited the room, yet it felt as though she had just walked out of his life entirely.
The echo of the door closing behind her was deafening in the stillness that followed. He stood frozen, unable to move, her final words ringing in his ears like a death knell:There is no WE, Morgan. Not anymore.
Each syllable splintered his heart into irreparable shards. His chest heaved as he fought for breath, her absence pressing down on him with brutal force.
Unable to bear the suffocating silence, Morgan stalked down the corridor until he found an empty salon. Without hesitation, he crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a tumbler of brandy, downing it in one burning gulp. The warmth did nothing to ease the chill that had settled deep within him.
He refilled his glass, his movements sharp and unsteady. The anger that simmered beneath his skin threatened to boil over, but it was not directed at Margaret. No, every ounce of his fury was reserved for himself. He had driven her to this, with his coldness, his detachment, and his foolish belief that he could protect her by pushing her away.
“Ah, there you are,” came a familiar voice, cutting through the oppressive quiet.
Morgan turned as Colin entered, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. “And you do not look well at all,” his friend observed, stepping further into the room.
“Perhaps because I’ve ruined it all,” Morgan grumbled bitterly, swirling the brandy in his glass before taking another sip.
Colin raised a brow as he joined him at the bar. “Goodness. What have you done now?”
Morgan let out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “I only wanted to protect her, man,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “She doesn’t want the residence. She doesn’t want a part in my life. Not anymore.”
Colin regarded him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he asked simply, “But areyouwilling to let her go?”
The question struck Morgan like a blow. He set his glass down with a thud, his jaw tightening as he stared at the amber liquid.“I cannot imagine doing that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to.”
The truth of it settled over him like a revelation. He needed Margaret—needed her more than he had ever realized. The thought of a future without her was unbearable. Yet he had destroyed the very thing he now yearned for, shattered it with his own hands.
“It is not too late to change things,” Colin said, his voice steady and firm. “Follow your desire. Do not be a fool again and let go of it.”
Before Morgan could respond, another voice interrupted. “I host a ball, and my two good friends suddenly disappear?” Sterlin’s tone was light as he entered, though his humor faded the moment he took in the somber atmosphere.
His gaze flicked between them, one brow arching inquisitively. “What have we here?”
