I cannot. I refuse! This is not me. It is wrong. It is a weakness. What would my father say if he could see me now?
Hudson laughed bitterly at that last thought, for he knew his father would judge him. Not only for falling for his wife so utterly and hopelessly, but for feeling as guilty as he did for hurting her. Hudson had been raised better than that.
Sitting on his bed, body shaking, Hudson stared at the wall, imagining his wife where he had left her, tears in her eyes, hatred in her heart. He wanted to go to her and apologize—what a thought!Dammit, he wanted to go to her and tell her he felt the same as she. But he could not.
As he had told her before he left her alone, it would be best if they did not see one another for a few days. He hated to admit how hard it would be, but he also knew it was the smart thing to do. A few days was all it would take. To forget about her. To move on. To be reminded of what mattered. Yes...in a couple of days’ time, Hudson was certain all this would be was a bad memory and nothing more.
I need to forget about Florentia. I need her to forget about me. I need things to return to how they were, even if it means she hates me for it. Especially if she does.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was four days later when Florentia finally left her bedroom. Reminiscent of the first month of her marriage, she refused to walk the halls of the manor for fear of bumping into her husband. She did not bathe. She hardly ate. She lamented what had happened, while trying to figure out where she went from here.
A letter from Albina convinced her to finally leave. Not that her friend knew of her circumstances, but at least she would be an ear to talk to. A shoulder to cry on. And hopefully a mouth to offer some sane advice.
What could she even tell me that I do not already know? I tried the best that I could. I thought things had changed and that he had changed with them. But there is no changing him, and I am the fool for thinking differently.
Her plan was to sneak from the house so that she would not see Hudson. A part of her wished to, just to talk to him again, justto remind him of who she was and why she had thought that they were in a place where she might feel comfortable confessing her feelings. But she also did not wish to appear as if she was begging, or desperate, or ignoring his command.He does not wish to see me? Fine. So be it.
Despite her efforts, it was no sooner than she’d closed the bedroom door behind her, intent on sneaking down the hall, that she heard a noise to her right.
She froze as if caught in the sight of a huntsman, eyes closed, heart beating frantically, praying that his back was to her, and that he did not notice?—
“Going somewhere?” the duke’s voice swept down the hallway.
Florentia took a deep breath and forced herself to turn to face him. The sight of him had a strange effect. Anger pulsed through her because she hated what he had done. And yet...she still could not help but feel that same throbbing in her chest and warmth through her body because despite all that had happened, her feelings had not changed.
She still loved him.
“I am going out for the day,” she said, doing what she could to look unconcerned.
“To where, exactly?” he asked.
“Do you care?”
She saw the side of his mouth twitch at the sharpness of her response. Then, for barely a moment, his expression softened, and he opened his mouth, and she held her breath because it looked to her as if he was about to apologize...only for the severity in his eyes to return and the coldness in his stance to smother any chance of reconciliation.
“You are my wife,” he said. “I ought to know when you leave the manor. For your safety, if nothing else.”
“So you care about my safety, do you?”
“As I said, you are my wife. My reputation is tied to you, and it would not do for anything to happen to you.” It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn that she saw the fight within him, that urge to say what he wanted to say, battered back by his ridiculous notion of right and wrong. “So, I ask again, where are you going?”
She curled her lip and started down the hall, stepping to the right so that she could walk past him without getting too close. “You need not worry. I am simply paying Albina a visit.”
“At Elias’s home?”
“Atherhome,” she corrected coolly as she passed him. “From what I understand of their marriage, Elias does not laud himself over his wife as if she is property.”
“Florentia...” he groaned.
She stopped short, several feet past him, not turning around because she could not do that to herself. She knew he was stubborn. And she knew that despite what he said, he did not mean it. Shehadto believe that he felt things for her. She knew that he did.
“Yes?” she said, looking ahead, her heart racing with anticipation and hope.
“Do not be late,” he said. “It would not do for you to be out after dark.”
A crushing pain grew in her chest, made worse by the sound of his footsteps walking away. She remained where she was a moment longer, forcing the tears that welled in her eyes to stay where they were; she would not give him the satisfaction. And then, with a deep breath, she cleared her mind and concentrated on anything but the duke, and she hurried from the manor.
