Page 53 of The Duke's Only Desire

Chapter Fifteen

As the clockin the entry hall struck midnight, Shay stood in front of the dying fire in his otherwise dark study and lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips. In his rush to drink himself into oblivion, he hadn’t bothered with a glass.

He couldn’t bring himself to go upstairs and put this day to an end, either, because that would mean dawn would come sooner than he could bear. And with dawn would come Sophie’s departure. So he stood there, half dressed in his shirt sleeves and unbuttoned waistcoat, his discarded cravat on the floor.

Dear God, would he ever be able to wipe the look of anguish he’d put on her face this afternoon in the greenhouse from his memory? First, when he’d admitted to killing John for her. Then, when he’d voiced the only solution to their problems—for her to leave Ravenscroft. And him.

That was when she’d gazed at him as if he truly were a monster.

But it couldn’t be helped, just as he couldn’t allow her to stay. She had to leave, they both knew it. Living with him would only cause her pain.

He gave a bitter laugh at his own situation. She might be free, but her absence would eat at him like a ghost pain, like one of those men who had lost arms and legs in the wars but continued to feel their presence long after they’d been severed.

After his declaration that their marriage needed to end, he had left, striding away through the gardens to reclaim his horse from the grooms. He’d ridden away as fast as he could, leaving her to stand at the edge of the gardens and watch him until he could no longer see her over his shoulder. He had only returned a few minutes ago, long after midnight and well past the time she should have gone to bed.

But damnation if a candle wasn’t glowing in her bedroom window as he’d approached the house. She’d found no more peace tonight than he had.

“It’s for the best,” he told himself. Perhaps if he said that often enough, he would start to believe it.

A faint knock rapped on the door. Shay glanced up, for a moment his heart foolishly hopeful—

But it wasn’t Sophie.

“Colonel?” Pearson stepped into the room. “Henley said you’d asked for me. Do you need help undressing?”

“No.” Shay stared down into the dying embers and lifted the bottle to his lips again, only to find it empty. With a curse, he set it on the mantel. “The duchess is leaving in the morning to return to London. I want you to travel with her to keep her safe.” When the valet opened his mouth to question that, Shay cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Then you can carry out your plan to resign and find employment elsewhere. I’ll write you a recommendation in the morning.”

Pearson stiffened. “Her Grace is leaving us?”

“Me,” Shay corrected a bit too harshly. “She’s leavingme.” He paused, then added, “It’s for the best.”

“Bollocks.”

Shay rolled his eyes. “Pearson, I am quite aware of your feelings about—”

“Have you seen the weather? Icy cold with more snow expected tonight. Use that as your excuse to keep her here for afew extra days until you come to your senses and realize she’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

He grimaced at the fire. “But I’m certainly not the best for her.”

“Bollocks.”

Shay knew better than to argue. “Goodnight, Pearson. Be packed and ready to go by eight in the morning.”

The valet lingered silently a moment longer, as if waiting for Shay to change his mind, then left for his room.

But Shay wouldn’t change his mind. Despite everything, he loved Sophie and always would. Just as he knew the best life for her wasn’t one spent shackled to him. Whatever feelings she possessed for him would only turn into revulsion if she ever saw how he truly was now, followed by unrestrained resentment for forcing her to wed him anyway.

As he turned away from the fire, his gaze drifted out the window at the black night. The full moon cast a cold light across the fields and distant hills, brightly enough to expose tall drifts. But a layer of black clouds clung to the far horizon, and the promise of more snow hung in the air.

Pearson was right about the weather. Shay couldn’t send Sophie away under such conditions, and he feared tonight’s new snow would slow her travel. Or worse, trap her at some godforsaken coaching inn in the middle of nowhere, where she wouldn’t have a proper room or meals.

He would have no choice but to keep her here for a few days until conditions improved. But it sure as hell wouldn’t be to mend their marriage.

“I’ll move into the dower house,” he mumbled to himself as he closed the tall shutters on the window and shut out the wintry night that only increased his troubles.

The old place hadn’t been used since his grandmother’s time over thirty years ago, but its isolated location on the far side ofthe estate from the manor house would serve him well in staying out of Sophie’s way. She would be able to pack in peace and leave as soon as the weather broke. She’d never have to lay eyes on him again.

He turned away from the window, only to freeze when his gaze fell to the desk and onto the little metal bird Sophie had given him. Twice. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand, its iron feathers cold against his palm.