Page 92 of The Duke's Unclaimed Bride
“But I didn’t stop you. I allowed you to fall for me. I should have been firmer. I should have pushed you away. I shouldn’t…” He hesitated. “I shouldn’t have let my base desires overpower me.”
Edith felt like she had been punched in the gut. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she made a noise like a small, injured animal.
“So, when we…”
“It was a mistake,” he said. “Each time, in bed, it was a mistake.”
“You can’t mean?—”
“I do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be heartless, Laurence.”
“I’ve always been heartless.”
Her heart clenched painfully, and she could feel the sobs building in her throat. He didn’t look at her, his attention once again focused on the fire.
Edith was certain she was going to be sick. Every part of her body, mind, and soul felt used and discarded.
“You…” She swallowed hard. Her breathing was ragged. She could feel her chest shuddering with each breath.
Laurence stood frozen, statuesque.
“You’ve become exactly what they call you,” she finally whispered.
He didn’t say anything, the firelight flickering in his blue eyes. If he felt anything, his body language didn’t give it away.
“It is better this way,” he uttered.
Edith did not believe that for one second. She turned away, her eyes stinging, and ran out of his study. Storming down the hall, she returned to her chambers.
She slammed the door shut and threw herself on her bed, sobbing. Her sheets still smelled of the two of them from the nights they had spent together.
All the times they’d been intimate or had just fallen asleep together now felt hollow and meaningless.
Had he just been using me? Did he just need a warm body to occupy himself? Is he really that selfish?
Before, she would have said no and rebuked herself for thinking such things, but now? She didn’t know anymore.
When she had finally sobbed herself hoarse and her tears had dried, she slowly stood up. Walking over to her drawers, she opened the top one. Inside was the key to her door, which also worked on the door connecting the two rooms.
She held the cold metal in her hands. For a moment, she considered whether she really wanted to do what she was about to do. Then, without a word, she walked over to the door and slid the key into the lock.
It turned with a satisfying click.
She stepped back and looked at the door between their rooms, one she had thought would always remain open. She didn’t want him to have the option of coming to her if he was going to treat her so coldly.
Laurence had said it himself: it was better this way.
There was a time when Laurence had been accustomed to being a lonely man. Now, it felt uncomfortable. He would sit in his study, trying to work on the things his duchy needed, but his heart ached. It hadn’t stopped aching since he’d had that conversation with Edith three nights ago.
Since then, the townhouse had returned to its usual hum of activity, but now it somehow felt distant, like he was watching it through a glass pane. He had returned to eating his meals in private. He avoided walking down the halls at times when he knew Edith or Tilly would be around. Even when Tilly’s governess visited, he took great pains to avoid her and the drawing room, to the point where it inconvenienced him.
He was deeply aware that he had not heard Tilly laugh since that night. He hadn’t heard her excitedly asking for lemon drops or running up and down the stairs.
