Page 47 of Loving Mister Stratford
He stared down at his food, his thumb tracing the stem of his wine glass.“Yes. Early.”
“Alone.” It wasn’t a question, rather, Odette coming to terms in terrifying increments that she was to be left behind.
“Yes.”
“Do you know when you will return?” she asked, trying her best to remain cheerful. She wasn’t the kind of woman who needed her husband beside her at every moment. She was slowly becoming more acclimated to the freedoms of a married woman. Meredith had promised to help introduce her to her friends and broaden her circle of acquaintances. She could make due just fine for a few weeks until Simon’s work was done.
And then they could celebrate!
Cheered somewhat, her mind immediately began concocting a small celebration for Simon—something to show how loved and supported he was, how proud they all were for his revolutionary work.
“I know not.”
His response collapsed any bit of buoyancy Odette had felt.
“Y—You don’t know when you’ll return home?”To me…
He gave a single shake of his head in response and Odette’s stomach plummeted so quickly she actually experienced a wave of nausea.
“Simon. Whatever is the matter—” Her words abruptly died when he removed his hand from the table and out of her reach. He was a preoccupied man, often aloof, but never, ever icy like this. Not to her.“Was it something I did?”
“Not everything is about you, Odette,” Simon snapped, making her jump so hard the silverware clattered atop the table. She had never heard him raise his voice, let alone at her.
“I didn’t mean to insinuate that it was,” she stammered, suddenly feeling more lost than she’d ever been in her life, not knowing which way was up and which was down in this world where her even-tempered scholar of a husband snarled at her with chips of ice in his eyes.“I am only trying to understand this change in you.”
“Too much has changed, that’s what.” His voice was a low growl and he averted his eyes once more as if the sight of her was too vexing in that moment.“I cannot afford the distractions you pose. I’ve worked too hard for far too long on this project to have it crumble down around me because I was forced into marriage.”
The words struck Odette like daggers to the heart. One after another, they pierced vital parts of her soul. She felt her heart weeping in pain. Her eyes began to fill with stinging tears.“I apologize if I have been intrusive. I only meant to take care of you, to help see to your needs so that you might better complete your work—”
“I am not a child!” Simon’s fist slammed against the table.“And I’ll not have you martyr yourself for me.”
Odette’s head snapped back in surprise as if the words had been a physical blow.“Martyr? What is it you think I do for you?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to silence him and ignored the tears burning her eyes.“It is not martyrdom to care for one’s husband, to see that he is fed and cared for. It islove.” Her voice broke, along with her heart, split raw and wide and vulnerable.
She swiped at her tear-blinded eyes in time to see Simon’s eyes slide closed; his jaw clenched and its muscles flexed, as if her words were too painful to hear. His fist remained on the table and his knuckles were bleached a painful white from the force of his grip.
Then, abruptly, Simon shoved himself away from the table.
“I leave tomorrow,” he reiterated in a strangled growl and stormed from the room. Only when she was alone did Odette allow herself to crumble completely. She sobbed, her head cradled in her hands.
What had she done? What could have caused such a deep fissure in their relationship from one night to the next? She’d believed they were on a steady path in their marriage; had felt that he might have even begun to care for her as deeply as she had him.
Because she did love him, she did.
And to have him push her away as he just had was like having her legs kicked out from beneath her. How could she have misjudged their relationship so terribly? And how could she convince Simon not to leave?
Odette did her best to take a shaky, steadying breath. She had to persuade him to stay. There had to be another reason he was leaving with no return date in mind. Having him travel was one thing; having him abandon her was something she refused to tolerate without at least giving it her best go of it.
Odette pushed back from the table and dropped her napkin across her plate. Food had lost all of its appeal at that point.
Stepping into the hallway, she glanced toward the front door only for her eyes to land upon a stack of trunks she hadn’t previously noticed. Two of them were the battered cases from their dressing room. Pivoting on her heel, she went to splash cool water on her heated face before she sought out her husband, determination steeling her spine.
Simon sat alone in the parlor, silent in the dimly flickering light of the sputtering, low-burning hearth. The sun had set some hours before, lending the room a close darkness befitting of his mood. He’d long since removed his coat, cravat, and waistcoat and had perched on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, head hanging low.
He knew he was doing the right thing by leaving—Odette didn’t need the black mark of his reputation upon her and she deserved more of a life than a connection to him would give her—but the look on her face…her tears…had sliced him deep, shredded his soul. Her tears had severely cracked his resolve.
And her love…
It was unbelievable, but he couldn’t deny what his ears had heard: she’d actually said she loved him.
