“A week at most,” he said, failing to notice her pale face, and the way she hunched over to stop the pain. “I thought it right thatI alert you to my plans, for it would not do to leave you alone without your knowing of them.”
“That is...” She forced herself to look at him, needing him to see the pain in her eyes. “That is...very kind.”
“Elias has made sure to tell his own wife, and he assures me that she will come and visit so you do not get lonely,” he continued, speaking as if reading the terms of a business contract. “Or perhaps you may wish to spend a few nights with your parents. Being alone in this house for so long might grow tedious.”
“I will be fine.”
“Are you certain?”
Do you care? Would anything I say make a difference? Or is this little visit nothing more than a forced social requirement, something you believe you must do, without knowing why?
She glared daggers at him, anger flaring, rage boiling her blood. Her first instinct was to let this anger fly, to tell him once and for all how she really felt. But not the lovesick waxings of a woman who wished to give away her heart. Rather, the outraged exclamations of a woman scorned.
The only reason she did not bother was because she knew it would make no difference. That was the biggest joke of all.
This marriage...it was as he’d had told her on day one. A marriage of convenience only. It was just now that Florentia was finally accepting this cold, so very brutal reality.
“I will see you when you return,” she said simply.
He nodded once. “If you need anything, I have left my address with the staff. They will know how to reach me.”
“I doubt I will,” she said, a fragment of a snarl to her voice. “In fact, I doubt I will ever need anything from you again.”
That saw him frown. A moment as he considered her, really seeing her for the first time. She wondered if he might rise to the moment, if they might fight. A part of her hoped they would. But no.
“Good,” he said. “I will see you next week.” Another nod and he turned and stalked down the hall.
Florentia did not watch him go. Rather, she slammed the door closed and stormed back through her room. She let her anger flood her. She let it baste her, hands curled into fists, body shaking, teeth bared like a rabid wolf on the prowl. Better to be angry than to be upset. Better to be furious than to wallow in misery.
The misery, she knew, would come later. Of that, there could be no doubt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alone as she was, Florentia knew one thing to be certain. She could not stay in this house. It had been different when Hudson was there. Even if he was avoiding her, she had still hung onto the vain hope that this might change. Hearing him every morning and every evening, knowing that despite his avoidance of her he was likely thinking about her as she was him, had been a comfort she had not known she’d needed until it was gone.
She wandered through the empty manor as if she was a ghost. Oh sure, the members of staff still filled it as they always had, and they spoke with her and asked if she required anything of them. But it felt emptier without Hudson, crushing her with a sense of loneliness that was telling of how she was bound to spend the rest of her life.
A husband who wants nothing to do with me. No chance of starting a family, of having a child to raise as I grow old. What kind of life will that be, and how am I expected to live it?
It was only an hour after Hudson left that she came to the decision that she would move back in with her parents for the week. Not that she planned on telling them the truth of why she was back, figuring they would likely believe that Hudson had simply gone on a business trip and demanded she stay with them because he didn’t like the idea of her being alone.
As it turned out, things never got that far.
She was in her room, deciding what she would pack, when there was a knock at her door. She looked up, seeing a member of the staff standing there awkwardly.
“Your Grace,” he said. “So sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor.”
“Oh...” She blinked with surprise. “Who?”
“The dowager duchess, Your Grace,” he said. “Lady Worthington.”
Florentia balked at the news, unsure of how to feel. Never mind the surprise to hear that Hudson’s stepmother had come to visit without first sending word, but the timing itself was odd. And then there was the consideration of who this woman was and what Hudson had told her about his stepmother.
There had been a time when Florentia might have refused to see her. Or rather, done so with extreme reservation and a grain of salt attached. After all, hadn’t Hudson told Florentia that thewoman was a sneak and a rat, a self-centered cretin who used people for her own gain and was not to be trusted? If that was the case, then her reason for being here could only be bad.
Then again, what do I care about what he said? For all I know, he was exaggerating or lying entirely. How can I trust him at all, after what he has done?
“See her to the sitting room,” Florentia said. “And see that she is served tea.”
