Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

G erard woke up early the next morning and came to the realization that he had been prowling around his house like a tiger in a cage.

I need to go outside.

He remembered his time at the club, how little he had enjoyed it. During a game of billiards, he had spotted Dorian. Not wanting to speak to his dear friend, who would notice immediately that he was not fine, he had waited until Dorian's back was turned in left.

He had not said the words out loud to anyone. He had yet to explain his situation to a soul. He had barely been able to think the word.

"I cannot go on like this." The words burst out of him unbidden. He tried to think about what he would do then and only one course of action presented itself to him. "If Seraphina will not tell me the truth, then Ruebridge will."

He decided to sit down at his desk and write to the earl asking for a meeting. Just as he said there was a knock on the door to the study.

"Come in." he said without looking up.

"Your Grace, you have a visitor."

He looked up at the footman, eyebrow raised. "What visitor?"

His heart speed up wondering if Seraphina had decided… but no, they would not have announced her as a visitor if she had come.

"Lady Stanton, Your Grace."

Gerard frowned. He could think of no reason why the dowager viscountess would be visiting him. She was the last person he wanted to see.

"Tell her I am not at home," he informed the footman.

"I…" he said uncertainty and then someone pushed past him and stepped into the room.

"Apologies for barging in on you, Your Grace, but we need to talk. It's about your wife."

Gerard's gaped up at her, while the footman looked apologetic.

"Lady Stanton. What could you possibly have to tell me about my own wife?"

She took a step closer so that she was on the other side of the desk and whispered to him, "I don't think you want anyone else hearing this."

Gerard raised his eyes to see the footman was still hovering at the door. He waved him away in dismissal, and the man stepped back and closed the door behind him.

Gerard met Peggy's eyes again.

"Tell me now," he commanded.

She visibly shivered. "Your voice; surely it was made to be a field commander's." she said sultrily, leaning closer to the table, "So deep and demanding. One cannot help but want to obey you."

His brow furrowed and he took a step back. "I have no time for games, Lady Stanton. Why are you here?"

"I made you an offer once. You turned me down. Are you ready to reconsider now that you know just what kind of wife you have?"

"What does that mean?"

"I know she's staying at Pennington House. Has been for the past week. I know Lord Ruebridge was there for dinner last night until very late. Perhaps he even spent the night, I do not know."

Gerard felt his heart squeeze in denial of her words. Surely not. Surely, she wouldn't.

"I tried to speak with her. Reason with her. But she spurned me. Never fear though, I love you and I would never hurt you in such a way." She walked around the table, reaching out to him.

"Stop," he growled, catching hold of her wrist when she tried to put her palm against his chest, and flinging it away. "I never asked you to do that."

"I did it anyway. Because she doesn't deserve you. Gerard, please." She strained against his restraining hand, attempting to kiss him, lips pursed. "I can make you so happy."

His lips twisted. "How could you make me happy when my heart belongs to another?" he asked sardonically.

"You will forget her in time. We can be so happy together. I would be no financial burden to you. I'm a much better choice for you than her."

Gerard looked away from her straining figure, effortlessly holding her back with one hand and shook his head.

"If only it was that simple. It's not." His eyes slid over to connect with hers. "I have no feelings for you, and I never will. My heart is given elsewhere."

"Even after you saw that letter. Have you no self-respect? No dignity? How can you forgive her after that?"

He shook his head and shrugged. "Forgiven or not, she's the one I want." Then he paused, going over her words. His hand dropped away from her, and he took a step back. "Wait. How did you know about the letter?"

She sputtered, literally grabbing at the air looking for words to say. "I…Seraphina told me."

"No." He shook his head. "She didn't. She wouldn't have. How did you know ?"

"I… I…"

"You what?" his patience was running thin.

She just blinked at him helplessly. "I did it for you!" she cried.

He grabbed her arm and squeezed hard. "What? What exactly did you do?"

"I wrote the letter, damn you!" she snapped. "I wrote it, and I put it in her drawer, hoping you would find it."

Gerard opened his mouth to ask more questions. But then he remembered the musicale, and how she had disappeared for a time and then returned to the ballroom looking guilty.

He knew every word she said was true. He remembered Seraphina's bewildered face when he confronted her. Her insistence that she was innocent.

He flung Peggy away from him. "Leave my house and never return. If you see me in the streets, cross the road and stay away. Or else I might do something you will regret."

He was breathing hard, trying to keep the anger in check. Trying to keep from putting his hands around Peggy's neck and strangling her.

She had no idea what she had done.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but he glowered at her, and she thought better of it.

Scooping up her reticule, she quickly walked out of the room. Gerard gripped the back of his chair hard. The urge to run amok was strong, but he closed his eyes and resisted.

He had made this bed, now he had to lie in it.

A small, very small part of him was dancing with joy at the thought that Seraphina had not betrayed him. But it was drowned out by guilt and remorse for the way he had treated her.

Why did I not just let her speak? Why did I not believe her?

He suspected that somewhere inside of him his uncle's insidious words had taken root and primed him for the expectation that she would turn out to be exactly what he said. He regretted not pushing back harder against the poison that his uncle had spewed in front of Seraphina.

He regretted approaching their marriage from a sense of superiority. Just because her father had left their finances in shambles did not mean that they were somehow beneath him. He realized that he had treated Seraphina like he was doing her a favor being her husband.

But she was the one who brought light into their lives. She was the one who made his cold London house into a home. It was too late now. He had done everything wrong.

Gerard wondered if he would be doing her a favor by leaving her alone, and letting the earl pursue her as he would.

He dropped into his seat covering his face with his hands, his breath coming like bellows as he tried to contend with how terribly he had gone about everything.

Finally, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and began to drink away his sorrows.

The next morning, Seraphina walked into the dining hall for breakfast and saw that her father was already seated at the head of the table. At his side was half a bottle of whiskey as well as coffee.

He poured the whiskey into the coffee cup and drank, looking pleased with himself.

She took a deep breath knowing that it was time she confronted him.

"Is this it then, Lord Northwick? Are you simply going to drink yourself to death, leaving nothing but debts for your children?"

He snorted derisively. "Why must you be so dramatic all the time? Are you not a married woman? Go home and nag your husband."

She felt as if she had been pierced in the belly by his words but stood up straight and tall, lifted her chin, and gave him a challenging look.

"Is that the best you can do? Poke at me in an effort to divert attention from your shortcomings? There's nobody here to see. Just you and me. So, tell me, Father, what is it to be?"

"I always did like your sister better than you. Your mother did too. Even as a young girl, you were always so tiresome."

Seraphina swallowed the hurt of that. "Well, your favorite daughter is getting married soon. She will leave here, and you will be alone. I expect you to let her go; do not try to make her feel guilty for living. Do not ask her for money. You will not be a burden to Tessa."

His lips twisted as he took another sip of his Irish coffee. "I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't. I've been taking care of this household since I was ten. And when I left, Tessa tried to take over. All you have done is wreak chaos and leave destruction in your wake. You've destroyed this family, and you have destroyed your legacy."

He sneered. "It's not as if I had sons to pass it on to, eh? Just two useless daughters who ate me out of house and home."

She nodded. "Very well. If that is how you feel, I suppose you shall be glad to be rid of both of us. And when we are both gone from you, do not seek us out. Just enjoy what is left of your life free of the burden of your useless daughters."

She spun around and marched out of the room.

Her heart was pounding with fury. Despite her words, she knew that she could not just leave her father to fade away. But she could not think of any solutions to his self-destructive path.

He had been on it a long time—ever since their mother's death when Tessa was just two years old. Seraphina had not been much older. But four years old was old enough to remember the soft touch of her mother's hand, the loving smiles and the deep laughter.

It was just old enough for Seraphina to understand just what she had missed out on.

She tried her best to be that for Tessa, but she knew that she had largely failed.

Just like I failed at marriage.

She threw herself on the bed and burst into tears, burying her sobs in the pillow. Soon it was soaking wet with her tears, but she could not seem to stop crying. She was relieved that at least she had had the presence of mind to lock her door before she broke down. She didn't want anyone to see her like this.

Finally, her sobs petered away, and she sat on the floor staring at nothing, occasionally hiccupping. She felt drained and empty. Crying was cathartic. She could not remember the last time she had done it. Perhaps at her mother's funeral? Father had made them go to make sure that they knew their mother was never coming back.

She covered her face, breath hitching. Her heart hurt from all the pain she had regurgitated all over herself. Even now, she could hardly bear to face it.

"Gerard," she whispered.

Soon her sister would be married, and she would be alone. She wondered where she could go, for surely, she could not stay here.

Perhaps Rosalind would take me in, at least for a while.

She wondered if Gerard intended to divorce her. She doubted it though. The process would make them a public spectacle and he wouldn't like that.

He probably already has a discreet mistress somewhere.

It certainly had not taken her father long to move a woman into the house, much as he'd claimed to love their mother. She didn't last long. They never did.

Well at least Gerard and I don't have any children.

The thought seemed to make her nauseous and she grabbed her chamber pot, casting her accounts up into it. She had barely eaten, so most of what came up was just bile and bitterness. Her stomach cramped, see me to want to eat itself, if she did not feed it soon. She rang the bell to someone Leticia, forgetting that she had locked the door. The lady's maid knocked, calling out to her.

"Please bring me some food," Seraphina requested, and then got up to unlock the door, pour some water into a basin, and try to make herself presentable again.

There was little she could do about her red swollen eyes, except to cover them with a cold cloth to try and mitigate some of the damage her crying had done.

If Leticia noticed anything when she brought the tea and crumpets, she didn't say a word—she only liberally spread jam over the crumpets and poured her tea into a cup.

"Thank you," Seraphina said hoarsely.

"You're welcome, Your Grace," Leticia replied.