Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

C hristina sat frozen in her study, her mind reeling from the shock of Victor's words. One moment, she had been wrapped in bliss, certain that the kiss they had shared meant something more—that it signified a change, a turning point between them. She had felt it in the way he held her, the way his lips had lingered on hers, the way he looked at her afterward as if she had become something precious to him.

And now, mere hours later, her entire world had shattered.

She felt lightheaded, as if the very ground beneath her had given way. Her legs trembled, no longer able to support her weight, and she sank into the nearest chair. Her heart pounded in her chest, a dull, relentless ache that seemed to spread with every breath. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her, unable to fully grasp what had just happened. Victor had left her.

He had walked out of the room, out of her life, as if their marriage meant nothing to him.

Christina blinked, her vision blurring with unshed tears. Of course it doesn't mean anything to him, she thought bitterly. He only married me to take care of his children.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, sharp and painful. She had been fooling herself, hadn't she? All the moments they had shared, the smiles, the laughter, the intimacy—they had all meant something to her. But to him? To him, it was just an arrangement. A duty.

Her chest tightened as the sobs began to build, clawing their way up her throat. She pressed her hands to her face, as if that might somehow hold back the flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm her, but it was futile. The tears came, hot and heavy, rolling down her cheeks in unrelenting waves. Her shoulders shook, and she let out a choked sob, the sound barely escaping from her lips.

How had it come to this? How had she gone from feeling the possibility of love to being utterly discarded, as if she were nothing more than a convenience?

There was a knock at the door, but Christina barely registered the sound. The door creaked open, and footsteps followed—soft, familiar. She didn't need to look up to know it was Addison. The tray in her hands clinked softly as she placed it on the table, but the moment Addison saw the state Christina was in, she rushed to her side.

"Your Grace!" Addison exclaimed as she knelt beside Christina, wrapping a comforting arm around her trembling shoulders. "What has happened? What's the matter?"

Christina shook her head, her breath hitching as she struggled to form words. "He's… gone," she whispered, her voice broken, barely audible. "The Duke... he's left me."

Addison's arm tightened around her. "Gone? Left you? Surely you don't mean…?"

Christina let out a hollow, bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolved into another sob. "Yes, for good. He told me himself. We are to live separately for the rest of our lives." Her voice cracked, and she covered her face again, the humiliation, the devastation too much to bear.

Addison's face softened with sympathy, her hand gently rubbing Christina's arm in a soothing gesture. "Oh, Your Grace… no… surely not. He cannot mean it."

"He does," Christina replied, her voice trembling with despair. "He—he doesn't want me. This marriage was never for me. It was always for the children. It was always duty. He never cared…"

Addison shook her head, her voice filled with gentle insistence. "You cannot abandon hope, Your Grace. The Duke—he may be distant, but I have seen the way he looks at you. There is more there than you realize."

Christina let out a ragged breath, her tears spilling onto her hands. "I don't think there's anything left to hope for. How can I? He doesn't love me. He never will."

Addison squeezed her shoulder, her expression pained. "You don't know that, not for certain. Men are proud creatures. Sometimes they say things to protect themselves..."

But Christina shook her head, her sobs only growing louder. "He made the opposite perfectly clear, Addison."

Addison's words of comfort were lost in the sound of Christina's anguish, and as the tears continued to flow, Christina felt as though all the light had drained from her world, leaving her in a darkness from which she could not escape.

"Are you out of your mind?" Ashing's voice cut through the steady clatter of the carriage wheels, sharp and incredulous. He leaned forward, his brow furrowed in disbelief as the carriage left Kilton Castle behind.

Victor stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched. "Yes," he admitted, his tone low but resolute. "I'm out of my mind. And Christina drove me to this point."

Ashing exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through his hair in frustration. " Christina drove you to this? The woman who makes you human? You cannot allow her to become your weakness, Victor. You're a damn fool if you think pushing her away will save you."

Victor's grip tightened on the leather-bound book in his lap, his knuckles white against its cover. "I cannot afford weaknesses, Ashing," he said, his voice hardening. "She will be my undoing if I allow it."

"Undoing?" Ashing scoffed, his frustration palpable. "And what do you plan to do now? Live like a lonely, pathetic fool in London? You'll bury yourself in that cold city, surrounded by empty rooms and your miserable thoughts."

"I have businesses to attend to," Victor replied flatly, though he felt the hollowness of the words as soon as they left his mouth. It was an excuse, and they both knew it.

Ashing let out a derisive laugh. "Nonsense. We both know you'll find no solace in business, Victor. You are making a grave mistake." His voice grew more insistent, his eyes locked on Victor as though willing him to see reason. "Christina brings out the best in you, and you're too stubborn to admit it. She makes you... tolerable, for God's sake! How dare you let go of that?"

Victor's chest tightened, and he could feel Ashing's words striking far too close to home. He opened the book in his hands, staring down at the printed words, though they blurred before his eyes. He wasn't really reading, of course; he only hoped Ashing would get the message and leave him in peace.

But his friend wasn't finished.

"Look at you," Ashing pressed, his voice full of exasperation. "Hiding behind a book as if that will make it easier. You're running away from the one person who can pull you out of this miserable shell you've built around yourself. You know I'm right, and that's what terrifies you."

Victor didn't respond. His eyes remained on the page, the words swimming in front of him. He certainly had regrets, but perhaps the rest of his life was supposed to be spent this way.

Yes, this is safer.