Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A s fate would have it, gaining an annulment was easier said than done. It had been three days since Max had petitioned the archbishop, who had more or less told him not to expect a swift response or the response that he sought.

"Annulment is not something to be taken lightly," the white-haired man had said with a haughty look in his eyes . "I do not take it lightly, considering it means the severance of the sanctity of marriage. I will read your petition, of course, but I can make no promises. You have no notion of how many of these I receive, and very few are granted."

What the archbishop did not understand was that Max did not take it lightly at all. It had taken all the willpower he possessed to go into the meeting with the old man and to hand over the letter of reasons why an annulment should be granted. He had hated writing every word, hated seeing Dickie and Caroline's names together, hated that he had to paint her in any other way but wonderful.

The only thing that had held his resolve steady was the memory of seeing her shine at every ball and party they had attended when they arrived in London. According to Dickie, if Max did not pass her into Dickie's care, she would lose all of that. There would be no invitations to gatherings, no new friends to be made, and fewer gentlemen would be eager to do business with Max—she would be a pariah, and that was the last thing Max wanted for the woman he cherished.

"Let me bear this for you," Dickie had said in earnest. "I have caused you no end of trouble, but I will not watch everything you have built come crashing down because of me. The truth cannot be put back in its box, but what has happened can be remedied."

How losing the only woman he had ever pictured a future with was a remedy, Max did not know, but he trusted Dickie on matters of scandal. If Dickie promised it could help Caroline, then Max's own feelings did not matter. He would simply return to Harewood Court, throw himself into his work, and buy three or four dogs to help him forget what had been. What might have been.

Picking at a luncheon of fresh white bread and sharp yellow cheese, accompanied by apple slices that tasted like bitter regret in his mouth, Max looked up as a knock sounded on the parlor door.

"Come in," he said, knowing there was only one person who could be calling upon him. Max had not told anyone else where he was temporarily residing until the annulment business had been taken care of.

Dickie breezed in, eyeing the plate on the table. "Struggling without a full complement of staff, are we?"

"I have no appetite," Max replied gruffly.

The apartments in Marylebone belonged to the former Duke of Harewood, though Max had never used them. He had been meaning to sell them ever since he inherited but he was grateful that he had hesitated. Although he would have been lying if he had said they were not in rough shape, and with his own staff at the townhouse and Harewood Court respectively, he had been fending for himself.

"Well then, let me put you out of your misery." Dickie strolled forward and dropped a letter onto the table in front of his brother. "Your freedom has arrived."

Max shot a dark look up at his brother. "You read it?"

"No, but it has the archbishop's seal," Dickie replied, scraping back a rickety chair and perching on it.

Expelling an anxious breath, Max tiptoed his fingers across the stained tablecloth and took up the letter. It felt heavy and important, the wax making a satisfying crack as he broke the seal. But as the minutes ticked on, he sat frozen, unable to open it.

I do not want this. The words rang as clear as a bell in his head.

"It will not bite you, Max," Dickie teased. "What are you waiting for?"

Max suspected he was waiting to wake up and find himself back at Cedar House after the storm, with Caroline safely wrapped up in his embrace, curled into his side, realizing that this was all a nightmare.

"Let me." Dickie grabbed the letter and began reading before Max could stop him, his eyes glancing from left to right at a rapid pace. "Well… that is disappointing."

Max perked up. "The archbishop has rejected the petition?"

"No, he has confirmed that he is willing to grant it, but it says that he requires both of your signatures," Dickie replied, pulling a face. "I do not see why. How can it be that a woman sometimes has little to no say in who she marries, but her say-so is required in order to terminate a marriage?"

Max swiped the letter back, his mind in twice the turmoil it had been before. He did not consider himself to be a cowardly man, but he had hoped that he would not have to see Caroline in order to proceed. In truth, he could not see Caroline if the annulment had any chance of proceeding; he would lose his resolve altogether.

"I can take it if you want?" Dickie said, evidently seeing the hesitation on Max's face. "She will not be pleased to see me, but as she has agreed to this, I doubt she will kick me out too soundly."

Max folded up the letter and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. "Why would she kick you out? Indeed, I probably should give you the townhouse as a wedding gift."

"What?" Dickie frowned.

"What?" Max echoed.

Dickie squeezed his eyes shut and smacked himself on the forehead. "I did not tell you, did I?"

"Tell me what?"

"I knew there was something I was forgetting." Dickie cracked one eye open. "Caroline has agreed to the annulment, that is true, but she has not agreed to marry me in your stead. I happened to see Ellen yesterday, walking in Hyde Park, and she passed on the unexpected news. I had hoped to talk to Caroline about it in due course, to make her see sense, but I got somewhat distracted, and… goodness, I am hopeless at this. I shall speak with her now when I deliver those papers to her to be signed. By luncheon, she will have given her consent; I promise you."

Max was up on his feet in an instant, the annulment papers burning a hole through his chest. He stared down at his startled brother as a maelstrom of emotions swirled through his foggy brain: disbelief, relief, hope, uncertainty, and everything in between.

"Are you certain of this news?" Max rasped.

Dickie nodded. "Quite certain. Ellen was most distressed by it. She believes her friend is going to have to retreat to a nunnery or to the Continent in order to survive the shame and, of course, she is worried about how all of this might affect Phoebe and the children. Amelia and Daniel, too."

"But why agree to the annulment at all if she has no intention of marrying you?" Max's chest squeezed tight, his heart racing so fast he feared it might burst from his chest.

Dickie shrugged. "Who knows why women do what they do? I suppose she thought the only way to get the annulment was to pretend that she would marry me instead. You know, so it could be used in the petition. Truly, I was as shocked as you when I heard."

"If you will excuse me," Max said, already heading for the door. "I must get to the bottom of this."

He did not dare to hope that she might still want him, but Caroline had married once in order to save her reputation and to spare her family from heartache and shame. If she was now refusing, there had to be a good reason.

Does she think this is what I want? His mind raced. Is that why she agreed, for my sake?

He did not bother to wait for the carriage or even to saddle a horse as he bounded down the porch steps of the apartments and took off down the road at a sprint. He knew the way back to Mayfair as well as he knew the golden flecks in Caroline's eyes, and he could not waste a moment.