Page 123 of Duke of Sapphire

CHAPTER 33

“The carriage is ready, Your Grace,” Edith said.

Charlotte stood at the window, looking down at the gardens. The bed where she and Ian had planted marigolds sat neat and orderly, the flowers nodding in the breeze as if nothing at all had changed.

“I shall be down momentarily,” she said, without turning.

Edith withdrew. The door clicked shut.

Charlotte drew a long breath.

Compose yourself. You have survived worse than a garden view.

Her throat felt tight. Her eyes stung. She blinked hard until the room stopped blurring.

She made her way down to Henry’s study. The door was unlocked, as it always was when he traveled. She stepped inside. The room smelled of ink and leather, exactly as it always did.

She set the letter in the center of his desk, squared to the blotter.

He is in Matlock. He will not return for two days. No scene. No argument. No last conversation where I have to watch his face while I say something I can barely stand to think.

She had waited on purpose. She wanted no theatrics. Not that there would have been any, not with Henry. He would have simply nodded, thanked her for her honesty, and let her go. That was almost worse than shouting.

She looked around the study once and stared at the chair he always sat in. She glanced through the window that faced the drive. She ran the tip of her finger along the small dish where he kept his seals.

She turned and walked out, closing the door behind her.

In the front hall, Mr. Gedge held the door open, his face carefully blank.

Charlotte took a step toward it.

“Your Grace.”

She turned. Mrs. Ellison was crossing the hall, a small basket in her hands. She curtsied.

“Victuals for the road, Your Grace,” she said, holding it out.

Charlotte took the basket. Her fingers brushed the woven handle. “Thank you, Mrs. Ellison.”

Charlotte had not told any of the Sappherton servants what she had intended to do, but her actions and the preparations she’d made must have spoken for her. She managed to smile at the housekeeper, and it felt thin on her face.

Mr. Gedge bowed as she passed him. She stepped through the door and into the daylight. The carriage stood waiting, the horses shifting their weight.

A footman handed her up. Edith climbed in after her and settled onto the opposite seat.

Charlotte sat very still as the wheels began to turn beneath her.

Surrey. An aunt I have exchanged perhaps a dozen letters with throughout my entire life. A house I have never seen. A life I have no notion of how to build.

She watched Sappherton House shrink behind the window until the drive curved, and the trees closed over it.

What else could she do? Henry did not know what he wanted, and he did not understand why he had begun that conversation.

And I love him. I love him so much it has become unbearable to sit in the same room and wait for him to decide whether he wants me there at all.

The carriage rolled on, and her pain grew.

* * *