Chapter 36

"When you are ready to talk, my dear, we are here to listen," Caroline squeezed her hand reassuringly, her eyes filled with concern.

Agnes swallowed convulsively and nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears. She didn't trust herself to speak without giving way to the tears which had haunted her since the very moment she'd stepped out of her marital home.

"If you need anything else, you need only ask," her mother added before gaining her feet and exiting the library. Agnes had found some semblance of solace amongst the books since her return; their silent presence offered a comfort that words from others could not.

"Has she said anything yet?" Agnes heard her father's voice, low and worried, ask her mother outside the library door.

"I'm afraid not," her mother replied ruefully, her voice tinged with disappointment and concern. And he sighed, a deep sound of frustration and helplessness that seeped through the walls.

No matter how hard she tried, Agnes couldn't find it in her to share what had transpired between her and Theodore. She would be opening a wound and subjecting herself to a pain she didn't think she could endure. The memories were too fresh, too painful.

"I am going to summon Gillingham and ask him what happened. The girl is clearly hurting. It is enough," she heard her father's displeased voice, firm and resolute.

"Please don't, William," Caroline implored, her tone desperate. "She is in enough pain. Questioning Gillingham is only going to cause her more grief. Give her time. I'm sure she will tell us what happened," her mother added, her voice a gentle counter to her husband's sterner intentions.

Agnes sat frozen, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the voices of her parents a distant echo as she struggled with the turmoil inside her.

No sooner had her parents' voices retreated completely than the library door opened a second time. Emma and Frances walked into the room. The mere sight of her friends and the identical concern they bore on their faces nearly sent her to tears.

They quietly sat on either side of her on the sofa by the fireplace before pulling her into a joint embrace. Agnes struggled to contain her emotion, the warmth of her friends' presence a stark contrast to the chill of the library.

The tears which stung at her eyes now burned, threatening to fall. She blinked, refusing to give them way, her hands gripping the edges of her gown in a futile attempt to anchor herself.

"How did you know I was home?" She forced down the rising lump in her throat as well.

"The Duchess sent for us," her friends replied, their voices soft and soothing, as if they could mend her broken heart with words alone.

"How are you doing, Agnes?" They asked gently, their eyes searching hers for the truth they knew she needed to share. Agnes couldn't bring herself to lie. This one query became her undoing. And she felt those tears betray her as they finally poured forth.

"I am not all right," she heard herself admit, the words raw and pained, echoing in the quiet room.

They pulled her into the hug once again and encouraged her to let it all out while they cooed, their arms tight around her.

"What happened?" Emma finally asked when she'd collected herself somewhat, her voice gentle yet insistent, needing to understand, to help.

"I love him. And I don't know what to do..." Agnes sniffed, her voice muffled against their shoulders.

"You mean Gillingham?" Emma asked, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity as she leaned forward slightly.

"Of course it's Gillingham, Emma. Who else?" Frances gave their friend a look before Agnes could respond, her tone lightly chiding.

"Then I don't understand the tears. Isn't love a good thing?" Emma asked, genuinely perplexed. And Frances gave her another look in ostensible admonishment, signaling that the matter was not so simple.

"Theodore doesn't love me. He told me so himself. That he cannot..." Agnes confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush, heavy with sorrow.

"He said that to you?" Frances appeared thoughtful, her brow furrowing as she considered Agnes's words.

Agnes nodded, the confirmation heavy in the air between them.

"I think that is a lie," her friend surprised her by this observation. "He sounds to me like he's running away from his true feelings," she added, a note of conviction in her voice.

"You don't know that, Frannie," Agnes said, her voice low and weary. Hope was a dangerous thing. And she did not want her friend giving her that, not when her own heart was so fraught with doubt.

"Did you not hear what she just said, Frannie?" Emma asked, her voice tinged with concern. "It sounds to me like love is punishing them," she added, her expression grave.

"Oh, do not be melodramatic, Emma," Frances dismissed with a wave of her hand before turning back to Agnes and saying, "Do not lose hope, Aggie. I think there must be a reason behind his words."

"I hope you're not giving her false hope, Frannie," Emma warned, her gaze shifting between Agnes and Frances, her worry palpable.

"Don't be a pessimist, you," Frances admonished again, her voice firm yet affectionate.

"Whatever the case, we will always be here for you, Agnes," Emma squeezed her hand now, her grip firm and supportive.

Her friends consoled her for a while longer before Frances said, "We should go out. The walls of this library feel more akin to a prison than a refuge."

"We could go shopping," Emma suggested, her eyes lighting up with the idea as if it could be a cure for all ills.

"Lord knows you deserve a change of scenery, Aggie," Frannie agreed, her tone earnest. She leaned forward, placing her hand over Agnes's as a sign of solidarity.

Agnes was in no mood, her heart still heavy and her thoughts elsewhere, but she decided to agree, nevertheless. Perhaps they could be right. It wouldn't hurt to have a change, to step outside the confines of her current sorrows and perhaps find a moment's distraction in the bustling streets and shop windows of the town.

"Perhaps some fresh air could indeed lift my spirits," Agnes conceded with a weak smile, allowing a slight spark of anticipation to flicker despite her reservations.

Her friends' faces brightened at her acquiescence, glad to see her considering anything that might bring even a small measure of relief.

"Do not expect fresh air, Aggie," Emma teased. "This is London, and all the time you spent in the country has likely made you forget."

Agnes chuckled at that.

It has been three days without Agnes,Theodore thought to himself as he paced his study. He was counting. Every moment. He couldn't help but count his hours of misery without his wife.

"Would you like anything, My Lord?" Quentin's muffled voice came through the door in concert with his knock.

Theodore had locked the door, and the old man had remained persistent in knocking and asking how he was.

"I told you I don't need anything, Quentin," Theodore groaned. He gulped down the contents of the tumbler in his hand before tossing the empty glass, sending it crashing into the fireplace.

It shattered to a thousand pieces. A lot like his heart at this very moment. Each fragment reflected a piece of his broken spirit, scattered and irretrievable.

"My lord? My lord, is everything all right in there?" The butler's voice held alarm in it now. The doorknob rattled as the man attempted to open the locked door, his concern evident in the urgency of his actions.

"Go away, Quentin!" Theodore barked, his voice harsh, more from pain than anger.

Silence ensued, but he should have known that it would be short-lived, for soon after, Harriet came knocking. Theodore ignored their incessant knocks and pleas until they finally surrendered and left him to carry on brooding in silence.

He sat before the fireplace and let his head fall into his palms. He was unable to understand his pain. Wasn't he supposed to feel relief after letting Agnes go and keeping her safe from him? Never has he experienced such pain in his life before.

Another knock came, and Theodore opened his mouth to let out a curse. Only to pause when he heard Mr. Thompson's voice, firm and unmistakable, through the thick wood of the door. The solicitor had sent him several missives over the past days, and the letters still lay atop his desk unopened, their seals mocking him from afar.

"I come with company wishing for an urgent audience with His Lordship." Mr. Thompson knocked on the door again, more insistently this time.

Theodore had half a heart to ignore him, but he reluctantly got to his feet. Curiosity piqued, he wondered, who was this urgent company?

He opened his study door to the sight of the solicitor. Alone. "Your tricks are not amusing, Thomp?—"

"Lord Asmont and his solicitor wish to see you. They're in the drawing room," Mr. Thompson interjected before Theodore could finish his rebuke.

His gaze traveled over Theodore right then, taking in the disheveled state of his attire and the unmistakable signs of distress that marked his features. After a brief, uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat and added, "Perhaps His Lordship would like to tidy himself up before joining them?"

"Tell them I shall join them shortly."

Wondering what the sudden call was about, Theodore dashed up the stairs to his bedchamber, calling, "Audley!"

His valet appeared almost immediately and helped Theodore clean and dress as quickly as possible. Within minutes, Theodore was transformed from a disheveled recluse to the picture of a composed gentleman. Then he made his way down to the drawing room, his steps measured, preparing himself for whatever awaited.

"Ah, Gillingham. I thought you'd never join us," Asmont said upon his entrance, his voice carrying a light jest. "Pardon my unannounced visit, but after inspecting your vessels and models, I simply couldn't wait to discuss moving forward with you. I would like you to build my next trading ships."

Theodore thought that he'd never seen the Earl so enthusiastic. This greatly surprised him, sparking a mix of intrigue and caution.

"What changed your mind, Asmont?" Theodore asked, his tone carefully neutral. As glad as he was about the possibility of a deal with the Earl, he did not wish to enter into a superficial contract, too. He wanted all laid bare and clear from the start.

Asmont suddenly glanced in the direction of their waiting solicitors. "Might we discuss the specifics in the study? It would afford us more privacy."

The solicitors excused themselves at this, but Theodore still led the earl to his study. "I trust your stay in Essex was pleasant?" Asmont said, initiating the conversation with a cordial inquiry as he took a seat in one of the chairs before the hearth.

"I am certain you didn't request privacy to ask me about my time in the country, Lord Asmont." Theodore quirked a brow, his voice tinged with amusement and skepticism.

The Earl smiled in response before he said, "I received letters from my aunt telling me about the acquaintance she made with a loving couple in Essex. And after seeing you with your wife at the ball, I realized that I'd misjudged you, and owe you my sincere apologies."

Theodore hadn't been expecting an apology. Nevertheless, he accepted it with a nod, his expression softening slightly. "Apology accepted, Lord Asmont," he responded, the formalities of their conversation easing into a more genuine exchange.

"You have a brilliant mind, Gillingham," The Earl carried on, his tone respectful. "And I would be honored to partner with you."

For the first time in days, Thedore managed a smile. "It would be my pleasure to do business with you."

They went on to discuss some terms and made plans for the commencement of their venture. This deal was the final salve his wounded finances needed, a crucial step toward stability. If only he could salvage his heart the same. Now more than ever, he wished he had his wife in his life, her presence a missing piece that no amount of business success could replace.

When Asmont took his leave, Theodore sighed. He was supposed to annul the marriage as he told Agnes he would, but he could not bring himself to. In his heart, she was his Marchioness. His study door opened, and when he looked up, expecting Thompson, he saw Harriet.

"The Earl's visit is a blessing since it finally got you out of this confounded study," Harriet was anything but pleased.

"A blessing in more ways than one," Theodore agreed, managing a weary smile despite the tumult churning inside him.

"What are you doing, Brother?" she asked, her brows knitting together in worry. Her gaze, sharp and probing, seemed to look right through him. "Where is your wife? It's been three days. You're like a mad man in this house. And she hasn't responded to any of our missives," she added, her voice rising with each word.

"It is for the best, Harriet," Theodore said, trying to sound convinced. But his voice faltered, betraying the uncertainty that gripped his heart.

"Have you seen your state, Theodore? That is for the best?" she asked in equal parts disbelief and displeasure, her hands on her hips as she faced him squarely. "And I have no doubts Agnes is in a similar state. What is wrong with both of you?" She threw her hands up.

"I'm trying to protect her, Harriet," Theodore lost his patience as well, his voice rising slightly.

"From what?" His sister asked, her tone softening, pivoting from confrontation to concern as she sought to understand the root of her brother's drastic actions.

"From myself, Harriet. I am trying to protect Agnes from the man that I am," his exhaustion suddenly manifested in his voice, each word heavy with a burden he had long carried alone.

"Theodore..." Tears suddenly sprang to Harriet's eyes, and she mellowed as well, her earlier frustration dissolving into empathy as she truly comprehended the depth of her brother's turmoil.

"I do not want to hurt her, Harriet. I do not want to subject my wife to what our mother went through," he finally admitted, the raw honesty in his voice revealing the fear that gnawed at his heart.

"You are not our father, Theodore. Don't you see?" Harriet took his hands in hers and squeezed in reassurance, her gaze intense, willing him to believe her words. "You are far from who he was. And you will never be him. Do not allow this to make you lose the most important part of your life. Do not let his memory take your wife away from you, Theodore."

Life without Agnes was unfathomable. He could not bear the mere thought of it, the emptiness it suggested. He did have a heart that could love, and it belonged to her.

He rose. "Thank you, Harriet."

"Tell me you are going to bring her back home," Harriet called after him as he walked toward the door, and he only smiled.