Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

A fter Marina left, Phillip was beside himself.

"Her Grace has left for Linfield," Mathilde told him. She waited at the door for him. "I had your horse prepared, should you want to follow her."

Phillip shook his head mournfully, his head still pulsing with the anger he felt toward his uncle. He could appreciate what Mathilde was doing, but it would do him no good to run after Marina. She would not wish to talk to him so soon.

"Your Grace…" Mathilde trailed off though Phillip could imagine what she meant to say. If he were not in such a state, he might have considered going after her, but he had no interest in approaching her while he was still so livid.

All he could think about was that this was not how he had meant for any of this to play out. The Duke never intended to grow so fond of his wife, but he certainly never intended to act so carelessly that he could hurt her in this manner. If only he had questioned his uncle's prerogatives more harshly or been less laissez-faire about visitors in his home. If only he had spoken to Marina about all of this before Emmanuel had the chance to do so himself.

His mind was a minefield of ifs and buts, but none of it was getting him any closer to what he wanted—reconciliation. Phillip knew that he would never forgive himself for the way Marina had looked as she ran from him the day before.

It was the memory of the pain shrouding her beautiful features that had him in a frenzy. At first. The Duke was determined to give her some time with her family to collect her thoughts. After all, he was well aware that their marriage had been a steep adjustment for his wife. She missed her siblings dearly, and she was likely to throw herself back into caring for them, he thought, and forget to deal with her thoughts about him. It did not matter to him. Nor did the idea which used to terrify him that she might mention his secret to her father. Phillip no longer cared what the ton thought of him. He would find a way to make money with or without a title and support Marina for the rest of his days for what he had put her through, even if it meant that he himself must live like a beggar.

In the end, Phillip could wait no longer than one night to see her. He woke early, had breakfast, and then asked his steward to prepare his horse. The ride provided the Duke with time to think about what he wished to say to Marina when he arrived, but nothing felt adequate. He had spent the entire night bouncing between two roads of thought. That he was innocent because his intentions had been pure, and he was guilty because the instant he had an inkling that he wanted to be closer to Marina was the instant he should have decided to tell her.

Either Emmanuel had ruined his life, or Phillip had by ignoring the inevitability that the truth would one day make itself known to her. When he, at last, reached the Linfield Estate, the Duke's heart was thudding painfully against his chest. What happened next would determine both his and Marina's futures. If he were not successful, he would be responsible for the downfall of the young Linfields, a thought far more difficult to sit with than the idea of his own fall from society.

"What business could you possibly think that you have here?" The Earl of Carlisle hurried into the receiving hall with his steward close behind, his cheeks red and his brow furrowed so deeply that Phillip thought it might get stuck in that position. His anger was palpable, and the Duke struggled to maintain his composure.

"I understand that you are displeased with?—"

"Displeased?" the Earl thundered. " Displeased ? One is displeased when his cook does not adhere to a set menu or when his child misbehaves in folly. One is displeased when their drunken behavior is written in the scandal sheets the morning after a lively ball. I could not imagine that you have anything to say for yourself that would appease my current state, Your Grace."