The single word settled between them.
Anne’s breath caught, before she let out a small, unsteady sigh that sounded almost like a laugh, but it had no humor in it. She pressed her palm harder against the door as if grounding herself, though it did little to stop her voice from shaking when she spoke again.
“So she is right,” she mumbled. “Youdothink I deserve someone better.”
“I think you deserve peace,” Dorian emphasized.
“And you think you cannot give me that,” she said.
Silence answered her again, and this time it was enough.
She closed her eyes, tears spilling over before she could stop them, though she did not wipe them away.
“I cannot do this,” she sniffed. “I cannot love someone who already expects to fail me eventually.”
She had not meant to say the word, but she had nothing left to lose.
Outside, Dorian’s breath shifted, as though he had stepped closer without thinking. “Anne,” he said, as if trying to pull her back from something he could feel her slipping into.
She shook her head, even though he could not see it. “You have said enough.” Her voice broke again. “Even if I were to agree that you are innocent, you are still waiting for our marriage to fall apart. I cannot survive that, not after everything.”
The ensuing silence did not ease. It only deepened, stretching across the room until there was something physical pressing against her ribs.
She remained by the door for a long time after, waiting for him to say something that would change what had already settled between them, but the corridor outside stayed quiet.
Eventually, she heard his footsteps retreating, and she stepped back.
She crossed the room slowly, her movements careful in a way that made everything feel heavier than it should have been. When she reached the bed, she sat down as though her body had finally given out.
A knock sounded at the door some time later.
“Your Grace?” Her lady’s maid’s voice came. “May I come in?”
Anne hesitated only briefly before answering, “Yes.”
The door opened and closed softly, before Clara stepped inside, immediately sensing something was wrong. She paused a few steps in, taking everything in.
“Shall I prepare tea?” she asked gently.
“No. I need you to help me pack.”
A small pause followed.
“Pack, Your Grace?”
“Yes,” Anne said, though her voice tightened slightly as she said it, as she had not wanted to utter such a thing. “Enough for travel, for now.”
Clara did not ask the obvious question immediately, but her hesitation made it clear she understood more than she let on.
“Are you leaving Ashford Hall?” she asked carefully.
Anne’s hands tightened briefly in her lap before she forced them to still. “Yes,” she answered.
“Is His Grace aware?”
She looked down. Dorian had to know. She had made her feelings known, and he had not fought for her. What did he expect her to do?
“He does,” she said quietly. “If he does not, then he clearly does not know me, and I cannot stay with a man who does not know me.”
