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Chapter Twenty-Eight
“How do you feel?” Adeline asked.
Marcella pressed her lips together into a thin line. If Adeline had been anyone else, Marcella might’ve made efforts to conceal her displeasure. She wasn’t happy. The night had been long and lonely, and now that it was day, she couldn’t help but realize all too strongly how badly she’d ruined her own marriage.
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Adeline added. “I know I shouldn’t have told Simon. It was—I only spoke to him in confidence because I was so worried about your marriage.”
Marcella sighed. She and Adeline sat in the drawing room, but while the familiar room had once brought comfort, now it served only as a bitter reminder of the moment when Marcella had learned the awful truth.
“I know, Adeline,” she said.
He must’ve been dreadfully angry. It was noon, and Reginald had not yet even come to see her. She’d expected something. Anger or coldness. A reminder that he was her husband, and she’d upset him. Instead, there was nothing save stony silence from him.
“It hardly matters anyway,” Marcella continued. “Even if you hadn’t told Reginald’s cousin about what I did, I’d still be angry with my husband. He married me solely for my family’s fortune, and it’s difficult to look past that. And the truth of the matter is that—eventually—I would havehadto tell Reginald about what I did. I already felt guilty for it. You only forced into the open what I should have revealed to him long ago.”
“Would you want to forgive him?” Adeline asked.
Marcella bit her lip. As much as it hurt her pride to admit it, Reginald had been right about one very important thing. She had been childish, and she told herself that she’d apologize the moment her husband came to her. He hadn’t yet, though.
And maybe—even if she really wanted to be angry at him—she wanted to forgive him already. She’d spoken in anger the night before, and in the new day, she felt so silly. Marcella should’ve mentioned the truth earlier. It was as simple as that. Mistakes had been made by the both of them.
“I think I would forgive him anything,” Marcella replied quietly. “Even things which I should not forgive him for.”
“You really do love him if you feel so strongly about making amends,” Adeline murmured.
“Yes, and I’ve made a terrible mess of that love,” Marcella said dryly. “It’s nothing short of remarkable considering the wide breadth of literature which I’ve read. You would think I would know everything there is to know about love by now.”
“My dear one, I don’t think the love portrayed in novels resembles real life and lived experiences anyway,” Adeline replied. “Marriage involves a great deal of compromise, which is not often how it is depicted in novels. In them, marriage is always such an easy affair.”
“I know that now. I’ve learned that lesson too late, though. My lord has not yet left his room. I assume that he is still quite angry with me, and who could blame him? Do you think I ought to see him?” Marcella asked. “I’m not sure if my presence would aggravate or soothe his anger.”
“Maybe it’s worth the try,” Adeline said. “If you do not go see him, I’m quite sure that your inaction shall haunt you all day. You are not a lady who is accustomed to doing nothing.”
Marcella took a deep breath and rose slowly from her seat. As usual, Adeline was right, and Marcella had spent the better part of a restless night and most of a morning agonizing over how little she’d done. If she were to make amends, it was surely better to try at once rather than wait and chance the divide between herself and her husband growing even larger. “I shall do it, then. Let’s learn where my wayward husband has hidden himself for the day.”
“I’ll come with you?” Adeline asked.
Marcella nodded, a wave of gratefulness sweeping over her at once. “Thank you for everything.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
The ladies left the drawing room and quickly ascended the stairs, setting their course for Reginald’s rooms. Marcella opened the door slowly so as not to wake the lord if he slept at such a late hour. Doubtlessly, he’d had a difficult night’s rest, if he’d had any at all.
Marcella peered inside the darkness. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light and fell upon the empty bed. “Reginald?” she asked.
She stepped inside, her slippers shuffling quietly upon the floor. Adeline followed, and together, they quickly searched the room. There was no sign, though, of the Marquess.
“How odd,” Marcella murmured. “Where could he be, then?”
“Does he have any place he especially likes to go?” Adeline asked.
“Yes,” Marcella replied, “He’s been quite fond of his study of late.”
Marcella left the room and went there next. She hurried down the corridor and threw open the door to his study, but it was likewise empty. Marcella arched an eyebrow and wandered inside. She still smelled the scent of candles, which meant Reginald had remained in the room late into the night. Marcella flinched, a sharp shred of guilt burning in her chest. This was the place where she’d fought with Reginald.
“He isn’t here, either,” Adeline said. “Maybe he chose to take a ride or a walk in the gardens? It’s quite lovely outside.”
“Perhaps,” Marcella replied.
