Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

S he loves me…

Lionel stared at her, too shocked to speak. They were words that should have heartened him, should have made him feel like singing and dancing through the hallways of Westyork, but in place of joy he found only sorrow.

He had hoped to avoid hurting her too badly. Now, it seemed to be inevitable.

“D-Did you hear me?” Amelia asked, her eyes blinking rapidly, her entire demeanor stiff with nervous anticipation.

“I heard you,” he replied flatly.

Leave, love. Leave before I must say what I do not want to say.

Her throat bobbed. “Am I to have no response?”

“I have responded.”

Please, Amelia. Do not press me.

She pulled her shoulders back, straightening her posture. “I must have missed it.” She paused, the silence stretching between them until it threatened to snap. “What do you feel for me, Lionel? I know it is not nothing. I know I am not imagining things.”

Lionel sipped from his mostly empty cup of tea, buying himself to time to come up with an answer that would not be too brutal. It would break his heart and hers to crush her entirely, to see her sadness, but a broken heart now was likely better than a shattered heart later. Easier to repair with time.

In truth, he hoped that, by saying nothing at all, she would be able to fashion a suitable answer for herself.

He should have known that Amelia would not permit that, however.

“Lionel… what do you feel for me?” she repeated with some urgency, her voice catching and, in doing so, forming the first crack upon his heart.

He raised his gaze to her, schooling it into the sort of cold calm that he had once been known for. “I feel that we ought to live separately. The month of our honeymoon is coming to a swift end, but I see no reason to wait. You can stay here, while I shall make alternative arrangements.”

The look he had been dreading came immediately. Amelia’s face fell, her lower lip trembling, her watery eyes creased as if in terrible pain, her throat moving with every strained swallow. She was fighting to keep her composure—he could see that—but she was struggling.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her hand clasped to her heart.

“Why am I heeding our agreement?” he replied, deliberately flippant. “I told you that we would only keep up appearances for the duration of our honeymoon. If London is your preference, arrangements can be made to take you there for the winter.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath. “That was how things began, I do not deny that, but… things have changed, Lionel.” Her shaky breaths hitched. “ You cannot deny that. You… you kissed me, Lionel! You kissed me and you held me, and you fell asleep with me. You have behaved not as a husband of convenience but as a true husband.”

The memories of every sweet moment he had spent with Amelia swept into his thoughts, as if begging him to reconsider, reminding him of what he stood to lose if he followed the path he was on. But other memories crept in with them, of seeing his mother’s grief and hearing stories of his grandmother’s unbearable sorrow, and of his own grief when the news came that his father had died suddenly. The beginning of a terrible discovery that had altered the course of Lionel’s entire life.

“All a mistake,” he said gruffly. “Rather, you mistook it. I was trying to make you comfortable in this household, considering the household you came from. I overstepped once, I admit that, and I regret it because it has done this to you, giving you notions that you would do well to relinquish.”

Her mouth fell open, her expression so anguished, so painful that it took every speck of willpower Lionel possessed to keep looking at her. He could not let her believe there was any untruth in what he was saying, though it was all a lie. Mostly.

He had wanted her to have a better life than the one she had endured at her father’s house, yet now he feared he was making this one worse.

She will be hurt for a short while. It is better this way. Do not lose your resolve now. He concentrated on the visions of his family’s most wretched grief, letting it steel him.

“I… do not believe you,” she choked.

He shrugged, hating every second. “Then you are existing in a delusion, Amelia. I was clear from the beginning that this was a marriage of convenience. You claimed to understand that and swore you would abide by that. You have been trying to make it something more, when it is not.” He clenched his hands into fists as he forced out the next words, “I do not love you, Amelia. That is my feeling on the matter.”

She took a half step back, her face contorting into a mask of wounded bewilderment and something akin to disgust. Tears escaped her beautiful blue eyes, trickling unhindered down her flushed cheeks.

Every impulse within him screamed for him to get up and go to her, and tell her that he did not mean it, that he loved her with all of his weary heart. But he stayed where he was, unmoving, certain that it would all be worth it when she had no reason to mourn him in the future.

“I can see that this is not what you wanted to hear,” he continued, softening his voice a little. “It was unfair of me to ask you to keep this kind of deal. I should have known from the start that you would not be able to stick to your end of the bargain. What lady who revels in romantic literature could?”

Her expression hardened, surprising him. “You think that because I love to read, I am somehow prone to delusion? Do you really believe that someone who was raised the way that I was, has any room in their mind for delusion? I am not some silly girl, Lionel. I have not let my imagination get the better of me, and I will not have you tell me otherwise.”

The quiet fire that he had admired during their first meeting at his townhouse had swelled into a ferocious inferno. He had not thought that he would ever see her angry, but she was furious. Her eyes burned with rage, her body rigid, her hands curled into fists like she meant to fight him tooth and nail, her lip curled in a scowl.

Let that fire and fury warm you through any heartbreak, love.

“Then, I do not know what else to say to you,” he said coolly. “I am sorry that you have fallen in love with me. It is misplaced. And I hope that it is short-lived in your heart, with time and distance from me.”

Her eyes became smoldering embers as she glowered at him, hurt etched across every inch of her beautiful face. “Time and distance will not be enough,” she rasped, trembling from head to toe. “If these are your true feelings, and I am as mistaken as you claim, then… then I should like a divorce.”

Lionel blinked, that word—divorce—detonating like a canister in his chest. She could not have had a greater impact if she had taken his letter-opener from his desk and driven it into his heart. His entire body froze, time slowing around him, the crack in his heart widening.

No, love! That is… not what I want. I cannot keep you safe and protected if you ask that of me. I cannot take care of you from afar. She would lose all access to the financial security that she possessed as his wife, and would not have the company of his grandmother and sister anymore.

“There is no need for that,” he said sternly. “Living separately will suffice.”

“No, it will not,” Amelia replied sharply, tears running down her cheeks. “I did not deceive you when I claimed that I was content to be part of a marriage of convenience. I did not expect to fall in love with you. Now that I have, it would be unfair to myself to remain married to you. Unfair to us both, in truth.”

He shook his head. “I do not agree. I see no reason why you cannot continue to benefit from the title of Countess.”

He struggled to keep the urgency out of his voice, his heart thudding in something akin to panic as he noted how serious she seemed to be. Divorce was a death knell in society. She would not be able to recover from it, even if he were to declare in the papers that she was not at fault.

“Because it would not be right,” she shot back vehemently. “I am no leech, Lionel. If I am separated from you, then it should be a true severance.”

He grappled for some kind of persuasion tactic that might make her change her mind, but his own mind was a blank. There was the truth, of course, but if he told her that, he would be back where he started, unable to offer her everything she deserved. His fear would get the better of him, and he would distance himself again, upsetting her afresh.

“I apologize for not being the bride of convenience that I promised to be,” she went on, her voice evening out. “With that in mind, I must insist on you doing me this favor.”

His jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to go to her. “Be serious, Amelia. Do not be rash. Where would you go? You cannot very well return to your father’s house.”

A shudder ran down his spine at the very thought of her being back with those two awful men, who had treated her so badly. They would only treat her worse if she came back to them, divorced and disgraced and spurned by society. Worse still, she would have no means of escaping them, for it was not as if she would be able to show her face in society, and her friends would have to be careful about being seen with her.

Think clearly, Amelia. I beg of you.

“With respect, Lionel, there is no reason for you to act kindly now,” she said. “I am no longer your responsibility, so you do not need to pretend to care about my welfare. I shall make arrangements. All you need to do is acquire the divorce, then we can act as if none of this ever happened. You can find your true bride of convenience, and I can return to the delusions of my books.”

She dipped into a low, somehow sarcastic curtsy, and turned on her heel. He watched her leave, rising halfway up off his chair as the impulse to stop her almost overwhelmed him, but the door slammed before he had a hope of catching up to her.

I am being cruel to be kind, love, he wished he could tell her. And, perhaps, one day you will understand and, maybe on that day, you will forgive me.

He sat back down and held his head in his hands, wondering how long he could delay a divorce.