Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

" Y ou must already know all about it, of course," Lord Hammersmith said. "You were his closest friend."

"We fell out of touch lately," the Duke admitted. He was doing all he could to remain calm. "Perhaps he knew he had to leave. What were the final arrangements?"

"He told everyone he wanted to make a name for himself elsewhere and had to leave the country because some woman was in love with him and would not leave him alone, but we all know the truth," Lady Hammersmith said.

"I only deal in the truth," the Duke said. "Please, share the truth with me."

Lady Hammersmith did not detect the note of sarcasm in the Duke's voice and was happy to share gossip with someone who might not have heard it yet.

"We all know his father sent him over there," Lady Hammersmith said. "He has become sick and tired of his son's rakish behavior and wants him out of the country where he cannot harm the family reputation anymore, what little there still was."

"He's a company man now if my sources are correct," Lord Hammersmith added. "He has a civil service role within the East India Company. I am sure it will be a good fit for him. A role like that overseas helps to grow character. When he returns, I am sure he will be completely changed."

He will never return to London. I have made sure of that.

Theodore allowed himself breath of relief. He had not heard from Percival since he had left the manor, but he had followed the given instructions, and he had created a cover story for it, too. The Duke still worried that Percival would still turn up one day, especially if he fell on hard times, but Theodore was glad he was gone for now.

"I wish him the very best over there," Theodore said. "He would not have changed his behavior on his own, so it is good that someone is helping him to do so."

"Enough of this talk of India," Lady Hammersmith said. "I want to know when we can expect some children from you."

"My dear," Lord Hammersmith warned. "That is not our business."

"Only if they don't wish to share," Lady Hammersmith said. "Children are a wonder, are they not?"

"When I am with child, you will be the first to know," Christine said diplomatically.

They would not detect the sadness in her voice, but Theodore could hear it. They would not have children together, and it broke Theodore's heart to have his wife be so sad. The day was about being with her and making her happy, but she would never be truly happy with him.

They were nothing like Adeline and Lord St. Vincent. Circumstances had thrown them together, but they had not been forced. He had forced Christine to marry him, and he would hold that regret forever. All he wanted was for her to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make her happy.

He ached to make her happy.

"There is the bell," Lord Hammersmith said. "We should all take our seats. Your Grace, where are you seated?"

"We have a box," the Duke replied.

"Ah, yes," the Lord said.

He heard Lady Hammersmith mutter as she and her husband walked off. "Why don't we have a box, my dear?"

"We should get to our seats," Theodore said, holding out his arm.

Christine took it, but she looked a little dazed by the interaction. They walked up the stairs and went up to their box to watch the show. They were given glasses of champagne and then left alone together. Theodore took his wife's hand and held it tight.

He did not like the feeling growing in his chest. Every time he tried to concentrate on what was right before him, he was taken back to the fateful day when he lost his brother. Instead of his brother going under the water, it felt like Theodore was sinking below the surface and could not breathe.

Water filled his lungs, and he felt like a hand was around his throat. Yet, it was not water; it was the emotions he had felt that day that had resurfaced to attack him. Fighting against them were the emotions that had crept up recently, the ones tied to Christine and Adeline and his mother and the child on its way.

Having children scared him, and so did having a nephew or niece, but he could not choose not to be an uncle.

"Are you feeling well?" Christine asked.

Theodore looked down at their hands when Christine glanced down, and he realized he had been holding it far too tight.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I am fine."

"The news about Percival has affected you," she observed.

"A lot of things have affected me," he replied.

Christine was beautiful in the dim theater lights. Their pallid glow bathed her in rivers of hay-like strands that caressed her skin and drew the Duke's eyes over her body, but he did not linger on her figure. He looked into her eyes as he thought about kissing her.

He would have if the lights had not dimmed and a ripple of applause had broken out. He held Christine's hand and tried to concentrate on the play.

He could appreciate the play. It was a satirical take on the upper classes, and he had never much concerned himself with being a part of the aristocracy, often poking fun at them and himself. He knew where he should laugh, even when the entire theater did not, but he could not find the laughter in his heart.

The longer the play went on, the more he realized that Christine was not laughing either. He glanced at her once to see she was smiling in parts, but she was not laughing. It was as if the small box they were watching from had sucked all the joy from their lives.

There were misunderstandings and deceptions and lots of humor. It only reminded the Duke of his life.

Am I embroiled in one large deception? Have I trapped my wife in a misunderstanding, and she will never be happy again? Will I ever be happy again?

He could remember the last time he was happy. It was back when he had been a rogue and a rake, free to live his life without dwelling on the things that could hurt him. That was the last time he was truly happy. He knew the thing that made him unhappy now, and he had to remove it.

"We need to leave," the Duke stated.

"The play is almost over," Christine complained.

"We will come back another time to watch it, but we must leave right now."

Christine looked at her husband, and she paled and nodded. She knew it was of the utmost importance.

The Duke took her hand again and led her from the box. The stairs and entranceway were deserted except for a couple of ushers, who looked at them funny as they passed. Theodore pulled Christine out into the mild night and looked up and down the street. He wanted to be away from all people. He needed to be alone to tell her.

They flew down the street, not knowing where they were going. Theodore pulled her around a corner and then around another one and down a long street, through a dark alley, and out past a line of trees to the banks of a small pond.

Theodore came to a dead halt and stared into the black, rippling water reflecting the full moon above. He panted, staring into the abyss. The water was back in his lungs, choking him up. It was not water in the lake anymore, but the trauma of the past, and the longer he started into it, the more distant the past felt. He would always remember his brother on that fateful day, but he did not want to live in the past anymore.

"I am sorry for dragging you away from the play," the Duke said. "We will go back there and watch it another time, but I had to get out of there."

"Something is wrong, isn't it?" Christine asked.

"Yes or no! I don't know. Yes, something is wrong, and it should be made right. I have let the past consume me for too long, and I can't let it dictate my life anymore. When we were in the theater, I was thinking about the last time I was truly happy, and it was when I was a rake with no commitments or burdens."

"What?" Christine gasped. "You brought me out here to tell me that, I?—"

Theodore grabbed her arm as she turned to walk away. She broke free of him but did not leave.

"That is the truth," Theodore said. "That was the last time I was truly happy, and it was because I didn't pay any attention to my problems. I created a life for myself where I got close to no one, so I would have no pain. No pain meant only happiness in my life, and I was happy but not fully.

"The only reason I am not happy now is because I have not let myself be happy. I know what you must think about that. We have spent the day together, and it has been wonderful, just as the other times we have spent together have been wonderful, but it has not brought me true, unbridled joy, and that is only because I have not let it. I have kept out the happiness and joy because if I let them in, there is a chance I will be hurt again."

Theodore took Christine's hands again, and she did not struggle against him this time.

"I can't stop it, Christine. I can't stop the happiness that is flooding me, and I don't want to. You are the best thing to ever happen to me, and I thought I could keep you out of my heart, but it is impossible. I don't want to hold fear in my heart anymore. I want to enjoy the happiness I have with you, and I want to risk that happiness, no matter where it might lead us. I don't know if I can promise you anything more than me, but I can promise you one thing."

The Duke faltered a little. He knew what he wanted to say, but to say it meant changing his life completely and emerging from the past like a butterfly from a cocoon.

Christine stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek. "What is it? What do you need to say?"

Theodore took a deep breath. "I love you, Christine. I have fallen in love with you, and there is no going back. I don't care if you don't love me back, I?—"

"I do!" Christine shouted. "Of course, I love you. I love you, and I feared… Do you truly love me?"

"I truly love you," the Duke said.

Christine froze to the spot, and tears dripped down her cheeks. She blinked over and over to try and remove them.

Theodore knew there was only one way to break the spell. He stepped forward and kissed her.