Chapter 37

Theodore knocked on the door, and the Richmond butler opened it promptly. He was surprised to find Anthony in the foyer, standing with an air of casual waiting that seemed slightly out of place.

He quirked a questioning brow, and his friend responded, "I am waiting for my wife. She's inside with yours."

For some reason, Theodore felt quite optimistic upon hearing this. And it took a lot to rein himself in from marching into the drawing room, and sweeping his wife into his arms. The mere thought of seeing Agnes, of being so close yet so far, stirred a tumult of emotions within him.

"Is all well, man?" Anthony asked him, noting the tense set of his shoulders and the slight edge in his stance.

"You look like hell," his friend went on to observe, his tone blunt but not without concern.

"Suffice to say I have been the veriest fool," Theodore responded, his voice tinged with regret and self-reproach. It was a rare admission from him, one that spoke volumes of his current distress.

"I knew you would do something like that," Anthony shook his head, a wry smile flickering on his lips. "You best rectify whatever the situation is," his friend advised, clapping him on the shoulder in a supportive, if somewhat chastising, manner.

Theodore nodded his agreement, feeling the weight of his friend's words. He knew he had much to make amends for, and the anxiety of not knowing how Agnes would receive him gnawed at his resolve.

The butler, who'd gone to announce him, finally returned. Theodore felt a combination of anticipation and anxiety rush through him at the sight of the man, each step the butler took toward him seeming to echo in the spacious foyer. His hopes went plummeting, however, when he spoke.

"Her ladyship says she is indisposed," the butler announced, his voice neutral but carrying an undertone of finality that made Theodore's heart sink. The word ‘indisposed' hung heavily in the air, a polite barrier that felt like an insurmountable wall between him and Agnes.

"Perhaps she did not get the message properly," Theodore said, hearing both hope and desperation in his voice, sending the man back to her with a slightly urgent tone.

When the butler returned with the same message again, Theodore found himself unable to accept it still. His heart sank further, the weight of each denial heavier than the last.

"Tell her that it is quite urgent, and that her husband wishes to see her," he instructed the butler yet again, his voice firmer this time, as if the gravity of his words could compel a different outcome.

The butler held a beleaguered look on his face and looked as though he wished to argue, likely tired of walking back and forth with no change in the situation. But he bowed instead and left once again, his steps slower, a sign of his dwindling patience.

He returned with the same message. "She cannot see you, My Lord. She is indisposed," the butler declared, and his tone couldn't be more final this time, shutting down any further attempts for an audience.

Theodore opened his mouth to argue once again, his mind racing for another way to plead his case, a desperate need to see Agnes driving his actions. However, Anthony quickly interjected, sensing his friend's mounting frustration and the futility of the situation.

"How about we go riding?" he suggested, his voice calm and steady. He led Theodore out of the house then.

"Frances told me a little of what is happening," Anthony confessed as they rode out.

Theodore swallowed, his throat tight. What if this was it? What if Agnes didn't want him anymore? He had no one to blame for all of this but himself. He'd hurt her. Too much.

"I've made a grave mistake," Theodore admitted bitterly, his voice rough with regret as he guided his horse toward the outskirts of Town.

"I know," Anthony replied, his tone solemn. "But give her time," he advised, his gaze steady on the path ahead.

"Every moment without her is agony," Theodore confessed, the words slipping out, raw and unguarded.

"Sometimes, one must go through agony to find their salvation," Anthony sighed. "But in the end, nothing is permanent. Not even the worst of anguish. There is nothing a bit of effort, patience, and time cannot rectify," his friend added, trying to instill a spark of hope in the bleakness of Theodore's situation.

If only Theodore could share in his friend's optimism, he thought ruefully, his heart heavy with fear and longing.

The following day, he returned to the Richmond residence. He was admitted into the drawing room. This gave him a bit of hope. He'd made it a bit farther today. Still, his anxiety remained.

Some time passed and the butler did not return. Theodore began to pace, each step echoing softly on the rich carpet of the drawing room. He turned when he finally heard movement in the hallway, but his hopes faltered when he saw Harry and George instead.

"You're back, Gillingham?" George asked, his voice curious and slightly surprised.

Theodore nodded. He didn't realize the little boy knew of his earlier visit. The simplicity of the question, coming from such innocence, somehow made the weight of the situation feel even more profound.

The boys took a seat. Where Harry did not say much, George was loquacious. Despite that, the boy was not as jovial as he usually was.

"Agnes is in the conservatory, you know," George said.

Theodore was overwhelmed by the desire to go find her but thought the better of it. He needed to remember his decorum, especially at a sensitive moment like this. It was not his place to go barging around the Richmond house as if it were his own.

"Georgie!" Harry tried to quiet his brother with a concerned glance at Theodore. George heedlessly carried on, his youthful innocence making him unaware of the weight his words carried.

"She spends most of her time in the conservatory, and she says she won't see you. Even if you will call ten or a hundred times," George continued, swinging his legs over his chair, his words hitting Theodore like a cold water on a winter morning.

Dejected, Theodore decided to leave, but he was very far from surrendering. He would give Agnes the time she seemed to desire right now. Perhaps Anthony's words would prove their wisdom. Eventually, a bit of that time he would give her, and patience on his part, might help him rectify the damage he'd done.

No matter what, letting her go is not an option,he promised himself as he walked out of the Richmond house. Each step was heavy, but he carried a resolve that he had never carried before.

Two long and miserable days passed since Theodore's last visit. Agnes sat in her usual place in the conservatory, surrounded by lush greenery and vibrant flowers, trying to concentrate on the book she was supposed to be reading, but to no avail. Her eyes scanned the same sentence repeatedly without registering the words.

She wondered if he had finally resigned after three fruitless visits. For some reason, this notion made her stomach knot unpleasantly. The thought of him no longer attempting to reconcile felt like a heavy stone on her chest.

You refused to see him, Agnes.She winced. What was she to do with her broken heart? Continue serving it to him on a golden platter?

"Agnes."

She looked up to the sight of Caroline before her. She'd been so lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear her entrance. Caroline"s presence was always a comforting one, yet today it felt different, more charged.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Gillingham has called again. He's in the drawing room," she announced, her expression giving nothing away of her own feelings about the matter. Agnes was still yet to tell her family that Theodore was going to annul their marriage.

"I cannot see him, Mother," she whispered, her heart filled with fear, sorrow, and an inexplicable sense of longing. What is he had been attempting to see her to confirm the annulment? Perhaps this was the main reason for her reluctance.

Caroline looked as though she wanted to say something, her eyes softening with empathy. She took a moment, perhaps considering her words carefully, but in the end, she simply said, "It is well, my dear." There was a world of understanding and encouragement in those few words.

With that, she exited the conservatory, presumably to deliver Agnes' message to Theodore. Leslie and Harriet had sent her numerous missives, but she did not have the heart to respond. Agnes was not ready to disappoint them, and she would rather Theodore informed them of the annulment.

As she returned her eyes to the page, footsteps came, and she knew these very well. "Did he send you, as well?" she asked without looking up, her voice laced with a hint of weariness from the emotional turmoil she was enduring.

"No, he did not," Philip replied, his voice carrying a gentle reassurance as he sat beside her on the bench. He extended his hand, and she found him offering her a sugarplum, a small gesture that spoke volumes of his understanding. "I thought to bring you something sweet."

"This is why you are my most thoughtful brother," she murmured, gratefully accepting the sweetmeat. The small candy felt comforting in her hand, a reminder of simpler times. "Thank you."

"Do not allow Harry and Georgie to hear you," Philip chuckled, and Agnes smiled.

They sat in companionable silence after, each lost in their own thoughts. Until her brother broke it with, "Gillingham took me riding in Essex."

Agnes looked up at him, surprised. "He did?"

"Yes. We rode to the ruins of Gillingham Castle. He said he wanted to restore it for you."

Agnes inhaled, her heart racing. She felt an overwhelming surge of all the emotions she'd kept down. The thought of Theodore planning something so thoughtful for her, despite everything, struck a chord deep within her.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, the dam of her emotions threatening to break. The weight of everything—the misunderstanding, the distance, and now the undeniable proof of his feelings—was almost too much to bear.

"The Marquess cares deeply for you, Agnes, but I'm sure you already know that," her brother added, his voice gentle.

This undid Agnes. She decided she wanted to see him—no, she had to. Theodore had been diligent, and she owed him her audience, at the very least. She wanted to hear what he had to say, to understand his intentions and perhaps find the answers she had been seeking.

"Is the Marquess still here?"

"Mother told him you had no wish to see him, but he didn't leave," Philip replied, a slight smile touching his lips as he noted the faint glimmer of relief in her eyes.

"Can you let him know where I am?" she implored, her decision firm now.

Philip was only too eager to get to his feet. He hurried out of the conservatory, and her grip on the book tightened. The next footfalls he heard were strong and purposeful, and when she looked up, her husband was standing in the arched conservatory doorway.

He somehow managed to look worse than she felt, and under different circumstances, she would have teased him about his appearance, how the charming Marquess looked leaner. He bore a single white lily and offered it to her with a tentative, almost shy smile.

Agnes took the flower, then asked, "Is this a game to you, Theodore? First you send me away, and now you won't stop calling."

"I know what fool I have been, Agnes," he said as he took Philip's vacated spot on the bench. "I fell in love, but I let my fears rule my heart instead."

Agnes blinked. Had she heard him correctly? Love he said? Agnes felt dangerous hope kindle within her. But caution was at the fore of her emotions right now.

"Then why?" She asked. "Why did to subject us both to such pain?" She added.

"I'd been hoping to protect you from future pain," he replied.

"I don't understand, Theodore," she said.

"My father, Agnes, was not just a gambler and a drunk," he sighed.

"He was verbally and physically abusive and had put our mother through the worst hell imaginable. I feared putting you through the same. I needed to protect you from the monster I could become. I So, I let you go," he elaborated.

"I never knew..." Agnes gasped in shock.

Frances was right. There had indeed been a reason for his actions.

"I vowed not to father a child I would also abuse," he continued.

"You are not your father, Theodore," Agnes said.

"I know the man I married. And he is not a monster," she added.

"But he allowed himself to be a coward," he took her hands in his. "I let my past overcome my present. And most importantly, our happiness," he squeezed her hands apologetically.

"It is not cowardice," Agnes now understood. All the pieces were falling into place.

"You merely took the only option you saw," she added.

It may have caused them both a great deal of pain, but in the end, he'd only been trying to protect her. Because he loved her.

A tear rolled down her cheek at this thought. And she felt his fingers gently wipe it away.

"I am sorry, Agnes," he said. "I didn't want my past repeating itself."

"We are not our circumstances, Theodore," she reassured. "For the longest time, I blamed myself for my birth and for being ridiculed by society as a result. I felt like the shame of my family, but with time I grew to realize that the past does not define who I am. It never has, and it never will. And everything happened through no fault of mine. I want you to understand the same too, Theodore."

For the first time, his expression was completely readable. His eyes were full of love she'd only dared to dream of before. And this love was all hers. Agnes's heart was a flower blooming in that moment.

"Neither do I care about your past, Theodore," she said. "You are not your father. And you never will be," she added once again.

"I love you, Agnes," he said.

"I love you too, Theodore," she finally confessed.

"Do me the honor of having me back in your life," he implored.

And in response, she took the lily he'd set aside and said,

"This is mine."

"And so much more," he made to pull her into his arms. Her knee came in contact with something and it clattered to the ground. And that was when she remembered Philip's sugarplum plate which he'd left on the bench. It was between them. And Theodore was only just noticing its presence.

"Sugarplums?" He quirked an amused and curious brow.

"A souvenir from Philip," she chuckled.

Her husband laughed with her as his arms circled around her at last, completing her.