Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

M organ’s fingers curled into a painful fist as he watched Margaret walk away, her back rigid with resolve. She had merely exited the room, yet it felt as though she had just walked out of his life entirely.

The echo of the door closing behind her was deafening in the stillness that followed. He stood frozen, unable to move, her final words ringing in his ears like a death knell: There is no WE, Morgan. Not anymore.

Each syllable splintered his heart into irreparable shards. His chest heaved as he fought for breath, her absence pressing down on him with brutal force.

Unable to bear the suffocating silence, Morgan stalked down the corridor until he found an empty salon. Without hesitation, he crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a tumbler of brandy, downing it in one burning gulp. The warmth did nothing to ease the chill that had settled deep within him.

He refilled his glass, his movements sharp and unsteady. The anger that simmered beneath his skin threatened to boil over, but it was not directed at Margaret. No, every ounce of his fury was reserved for himself. He had driven her to this, with his coldness, his detachment, and his foolish belief that he could protect her by pushing her away.

“Ah, there you are,” came a familiar voice, cutting through the oppressive quiet.

Morgan turned as Colin entered, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. “And you do not look well at all,” his friend observed, stepping further into the room.

“Perhaps because I’ve ruined it all,” Morgan grumbled bitterly, swirling the brandy in his glass before taking another sip.

Colin raised a brow as he joined him at the bar. “Goodness. What have you done now?”

Morgan let out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “I only wanted to protect her, man,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “She doesn’t want the residence. She doesn’t want a part in my life. Not anymore.”

Colin regarded him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he asked simply, “But are you willing to let her go?”

The question struck Morgan like a blow. He set his glass down with a thud, his jaw tightening as he stared at the amber liquid. “I cannot imagine doing that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to.”

The truth of it settled over him like a revelation. He needed Margaret—needed her more than he had ever realized. The thought of a future without her was unbearable. Yet he had destroyed the very thing he now yearned for, shattered it with his own hands.

“It is not too late to change things,” Colin said, his voice steady and firm. “Follow your desire. Do not be a fool again and let go of it.”

Before Morgan could respond, another voice interrupted. “I host a ball, and my two good friends suddenly disappear?” Sterlin’s tone was light as he entered, though his humor faded the moment he took in the somber atmosphere.

His gaze flicked between them, one brow arching inquisitively. “What have we here?”

“Giltford is being a fool,” Colin supplied with a shrug, raising his glass.

Sterlin’s sharp eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Morgan. “He looks like a wreck too,” he observed, his tone now serious. “And there’s only one thing in this world that can do that to a man.”

“A woman,” Colin finished succinctly.

“Indeed.” Sterlin nodded, crossing to join them. He fixed Morgan with a steady gaze, his tone softening. “I’ve been there, Giltford. Right where you are now. It’s a path full of thorns—thorns of your own making. But it is not impassable.”

Morgan clenched his jaw, Sterlin’s words boring into the raw edges of his guilt.

Sterlin continued, his voice measured but firm. “Trust yourself. Trust your sentiments. But above all, trust your Duchess. You may think you’ve burned the bridge between you, but trust me when I say it is never too late to rebuild it.”

Colin raised his glass in agreement. “Well said, Sterlin. And he’d do well to heed it.”

Morgan said nothing, his thoughts churning as his gaze dropped to the tumbler in his hands. The worst of it all—the thought that haunted him most—was that he had hurt Margaret. The woman he loved, the woman he had vowed to protect, and the one person he could not bear to lose.

He closed his eyes, her words echoing in his mind once more. There is no we , Morgan. Not anymore.

Not anymore… but perhaps not forever.

He exhaled sharply, setting the glass down with deliberate precision. Margaret’s welfare came first before anything. And honoring his vows to protect her for the rest of their lives was precisely what he must do. In whatever ways he knew best.