Page 74 of An Accidental Bride for the Duke
That left Iris and Philip alone.
Iris stayed watching Philip’s back, waiting for him to speak. With his current temper, she did not welcome whatever it was he was sure to say. But she knew too it needed to be said.Yell at me. Denounce me. Blame me for everything. At least then I will know once and for all how you feel. If there is even a chance…
Philip did none of those things.
He was breathing heavily, body shaking all the while. He half turned and she braced for his wrath, only for him to bow his head and storm from the room as if she was not even there.
And Iris’ heart crashed through her chest as the room caved in around her. To be shouted at was one thing, but to be ignored was another entirely. Philip hated her for what she had done, and as he had so clearly demonstrated, he wasn’t the type to forgive easily.
This marriage, whatever it might have been, was well and truly finished.
Iris spent hours that night coming to her decision.
She skipped supper, done because she didn’t wish to see Philip, knowing at the same time he likely wouldn’t attend anyway. But that was the entire point.
Pacing her room, the world around her tumbling, she had no choice but to accept that this marriage had reached its end.
At least I can tell myself that this failing wasn’t brought about because we did not try. We gave it our all and despite what very nearly came of it, sometimes these things just aren’t meant to be.
But what did that even mean? She and Philip were married, so it was not as if they could divorce. And an annulment was now off the table—although she doubted that Philip would accept such a thing. He was at his core a man of principal and everything he did was in servitude of his family’s name and honor. To officially end this marriage would be to ruin his reputation and she doubted he would dare.
With that in mind, Iris pictured clearly what the future might hold. It was a bleak image, and it brought with it a fresh helping of sorrow.
It would be as it had been those first days. Philip doing all he could to avoid her. Iris, alone in this world, isolated and without anyone to speak with or care for her. They would be like ghosts, drifting through this manor, able to see one another but unwilling to communicate or acknowledge what they once had.
It was a life that Iris did not want for herself. And one she would not accept willingly.
So it was that after hours of pacing, thinking, debating, and arguing with herself, she knew what she had to do. Her only hope was that Philip would see reason and accept her choice. That he would know it was for the best.
With that in mind, Iris found a sheet of parchment and some ink. She sat herself down and began to write. In her mind it would be the final time she and Philip might communicate, so she was certain to make her intentions clear. Even if she was not so certain of them herself.
And as she wrote this letter, she allowed the tears to flow. They dripped and stained the parchment; those stains saying what she could not bring herself to say. What she doubted Philip wanted to hear.
That through it all, and despite everything, Iris found herself falling in love with her husband. Love that was unreturned, doomed to failure, and had ended in tragedy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My dearest Philip,
By the time you find this letter, I will be gone. I will not tell you where, not because I do not want you to know, but I think it is best that I don’t. It will be easier that way, a chance for you to remove me from your mind completely as I am sure you wish for.
I need you to know that I do not blame you for this. And where I should blame myself, I feel also that we are beyond the point of passing blame as if it might make a difference or justify what happened. Ultimately, what was proven these last days was what the two of us always suspected but refused to admit: that we do not belong together.
I bear you no ill will. I hope the same can be said of you. I wish things had been different but that they were not is irrelevant. In fact, I would like to use this letter to instead thank you. For a short time, you gave me what few others ever have, a fleetingchance at happiness, and I will always hold that dear. You were my husband, my protector, and for that I will be forever grateful.
My only hope is that in time you come to understand that being a protector means allowing yourself to be protected also. We all make mistakes, we do what we think is best, and though we might be judged and admonished for it, that we did as we thought right and just is what matters most.
May happiness find you,
Iris
Philip read the letter through once. Then, he read it a second time. It was on his third reading that he forced himself to stop, letting the letter fall from his hands because he could not bear to read the words scratched across its face.
She left me… without a proper goodbye… without a chance for me to explain or… or to forgive… gone as if she were never here.
Philip found his body shaking. His mind fractured into a million pieces, unable to be put back together because the picture they formed hurt too much to see. Philip had known Iris was upset. He had known that she might have wondered what the future of this marriage would bring. But never, not once, did he consider that she would leave.
His eyes drifted to the letter by his feet and he saw the tear stains; they turned the parchment dark and smudged some of the lettering. Philip winced and reeled back at the sight, the feeling like a knife plunging into his chest.
