Married to the Marquess (37 page)

Kate’s face crumpled and she turned her face into the back of the sofa. “Not anymore.” She could not say anything else as the tears erupted once more, her entire frame shaking.

Moira’s hand rubbed soothingly up and down her back and she scooted closer. “Oh, Kate,” she said softly. “What happened?”

In broken sobs, Kate managed to pour the whole story out, leaving nothing unsaid. Her grief overwhelmed her, and Moira held her fast, listening all the while.

Sleep was impossible. She had tossed and turned for the longest time, surely hours by now, and she was no less able to sleep than she had been at the beginning. She lay still for a moment, the darkness of her room oddly comforting.

She knew the trouble.

She missed Derek.

Where was he? What was he doing? Was he able to sleep tonight?

Did he miss her?

Moira had stayed for most of the afternoon, letting Kate play as she wished, only lecturing a little on their behavior. She had cried with her as she played Derek’s song over and over, and only softly said her name when she thought it was enough. Kate knew she was worried about her, but she could not help but play it. She could play it brightly and remember Derek’s smile, or she could play it slowly and remember the warmth in his eyes. She could play the same song in so many different ways, but Derek was always there.

That was the point of the song.

She could not cry anymore. Her eyes were swollen and red; there were hardly tears to cry any longer. At some point, she would lose the desire to cry, and then the need to.

Shaking her head at her own black thoughts, Kate pushed herself out of bed and pulled on her wrap, opting to drift through the house like a ghost rather than lay here and give in to dark thoughts. She wandered up and down the hall, silently treading along the carpet, without light or candle.

She needed to get Derek alone with her tomorrow. She needed to talk with him, regardless of how he felt about her now. She could not continue on like this, as if they were two strangers inhabiting the same space. He could not avoid her forever, and she refused to let him.

But how could she? He was not exactly being made available to her. Again she was alone at dinner, and when she had softly asked Harville where he was, he had merely shaken his head and said he was out.

Enough was enough. No matter how angry Derek might be with her, she deserved to be heard, to explain everything to him. She loved him enough to fight for this marriage, and for their love. He had loved her once, she had felt it, and he could not deny it, try as he might.

She walked through the gallery, faint moonlight streaming through the window panes, the clouds having vanished some time during the day. She looked up at the faces of the men and women who had lived here before, who had gone on to be dukes and duchesses and other important members of Society. All looked so formal and solemn, no hint of joy in their countenances.

Kate had been one of them. Day to day duties were all that she had, and a future of more duties. Derek had been one of them. Going on with what was expected, valuing title and heritage and duty above all else. Then they had miraculously found each other, the true self on the inside that no other person knew so intimately, and suddenly, duty had vanished.

There was nothing wrong with how they had been.

But there was so much more to be had.

With a sigh of longing, Kate found herself looking up into the face of her husband, the portrait that had been painted shortly before their marriage five years ago. He looked so handsome and proud, but not haughty like his predecessors had. There was a glint in his eye that spoke of an adventurous mind, of a sparkling wit, of a heart that was far warmer than anybody could expect. He would make a fine duke when the time came.

She hoped she could be his equal in that respect.

She moved on to the window where she had seen him this morning, where their eyes had met again after what had felt like years apart, though it had only been a day. The distance between them was far longer. It might as well be miles of ocean and she was in a boat with no paddle.

This was the time, she supposed, to get out of the boat and swim.

A movement outside caught her attention and she hid herself slightly behind the thick curtains, but kept her view. A man was pacing around in the tiny gazebo, now entirely finished but for the paint. Her heart stuttered with fear, wondering who would disturb their unfinished garden in the dead of night.

The fear vanished when the man turned his face into the moonlight.

It was Derek.

His eyes were closed and he leaned against one post, his shoulders slumped. His face was drawn, his expression in every respect pained. Even from her vantage point, she could see him swallow hard, and suddenly, she had to do the same.

He sat on one of the benches, the one next to the lilacs that waited to be planted along the outside. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly, and Kate felt tears sting the corners of her eyes once more. Apparently, she was not out of tears. He had found a way to draw forth more.

She covered her mouth as she watched him, as he leaned forward and put his head into his hands. His behavior was, in every respect, that of a man tormented. And she had been the cause of it.

She yearned to go to him, to comfort him in his hour of despair, to hold him in her arms and let him do the same. She wanted to kiss that strong jaw, whisper words of encouragement that might lift the heavy burdens he had placed upon himself. She wanted to be whatever he needed her to be.

Suddenly, she couldn’t watch him anymore. It was too much, too painful, too poignant to bear. She turned from the window and softly returned to her bedchamber, her heart full to bursting. She slid beneath the bedcovers, now content to lay here until sleep found her, if it ever did.

She would find a way to make him love her again.

And when she did, she would never let him go.

C
hapter
T
wenty

T
he sun had not even risen before he decided that he could not take it anymore. He dressed quietly, taking only the bare essentials; trousers, shirt, coat, and boots. Everything else was superfluous. Besides, he did not care if he looked wild and ridiculous and shockingly lapsing in fashion sense. He had no intention of seeing anybody anyway.

He was not so foolish as to think that he could avoid everybody in London, but as the majority of the city would still be sleeping, he felt quite confident that he could enjoy the peace of the morning without too much disturbance. He left his bedchamber, dutifully avoiding looking at Kate’s door, for fear that he would be drawn to it as he had so many times before. Silently he crept along the corridor, the stairs, and the entryway, not even glimpsing a hint of a servant. The great front door let out a low creek, but it too was soft, as if everything in his possession was aiding him in his escape.

But where could he go?

Standing on his front step, the eastern sky only just beginning to lighten, Derek thrust his hands into his greatcoat pockets and sighed. He could not go to Hyde Park; it would remind him of picnicking with Kate. He could not go to the little gazebo hidden away on the Mayfield’s property; it would remind him of dancing with Kate. He could not go to Nathan’s; it would remind him of laughing with Kate.

He dared not disturb his friends this early, especially if he wanted them to remain friends after this morning. And they would ask about Kate. There was nothing left for him but to either remain here or wander the streets aimlessly until a solution or alternative presented itself.

He could not remain, not with Kate in the house, not if he wanted to retain any semblance of his sanity. He therefore chose the latter, to wander the London streets in the hours before dawn, hoping against hope that he would feel different upon his return.

Head bowed, he walked, taking no notice of his surroundings, save the occasional patch of fog that was so prevalent in London mornings. He had slept for only a few hours last night, and it had been a troubled sleep at that. Sometime in the night he had come to realize that he was not angry with Kate any longer, and perhaps had never been. His anger had been directed towards himself, at his inability to stand up to his father when it had mattered. If he had done so, there would have been no argument. He would never have lashed out at Kate, unleashing a torrent of misdirected frustration upon the one person who he should have held onto.

What he was feeling towards her at the moment was fear. Fear that she did not want to remain his wife. Fear that he had gone too far, said too much. Fear that the woman he had fallen in love with had been a mere fantasy.

It had to be real. He felt too much for it to be all imagined, for
her
to be all imagined.

He loved her, and with an ache that would never quite dissipate. These past weeks had opened his heart to emotions that he never thought he would feel, and he felt more alive than he ever had. It was a bizarre sensation, having never known anything had been lacking in his life. He had been content and satisfied with his lot, and there had never been a moment that he wished for something different.

Well, maybe one or two moments, particularly when he had thought about Katherine.

But now… now the very thought of Kate sent a fire into his heart, and it raced along his limbs and filled his being until there was nothing in him but her. Now he had dreams for the future, not just ambitions. He saw the future could be bright and happy, not just an endless monotony of days and responsibilities. He could revel in each sunrise that greeted him and take pride in the sunsets.

How could he go back to that former life of ignorance and blindness? Having tasted the sweetness of this life, how he could he abandon it for the paltry, tasteless existence of before? Having seen the beauty of the light, how could he return to darkness?

The notion pained him, and he shook his head as he rubbed at his chest. He couldn’t do it. There was nothing to go back to, no life for him there. He was too changed for that, and too far gone to try.

Duty. That was what it had come down to. He balked at duty for the first time in his life, and she, ever the practical and pragmatic one, had reminded him of it. She was right; it was naïve to ignore duty. Yes, they had the right to their own time of fulfillment, but there was duty still. He had known that all along, and he had never thought of refusing to fulfill it. But Kate was no duty, and she had no duty to him or to his father, regardless of what the duke had said. She was not just a woman he had married to provide heirs and a continuation of bloodlines, not any more. She was his wife, his better half, and he wanted no other. He could honestly say he had never thought of any other.

All his life there had only been Kate.

There only ever would be.

In short, Derek was the biggest fool that had ever walked God’s good earth.

The first light of the morning crept over the trees then, and slowly Derek turned to watch it, finding himself on a bench somewhere in the vicinity of Hyde Park, in spite of his attempts to avoid it. Another morning, another day dawning without the brightness of Kate’s smile to accompany it.

He could go back, he could go home and wake her. He could sit on the edge of her bed and wait for the sunlight to peek through her curtains and dance across the perfect skin of her face, wait for those long eyelashes to flutter in protest of waking, wait for those dark, entrancing eyes to open with the deep, slumberous look that filled them in the mornings. He need not say anything; he would not be able to. He knew he would never be able to restrain his expression, not when he was fairly bursting with emotion now, so far from her. She would know immediately how ardently he loved her, and perhaps, if her heart were as large and warm as he thought it was, she would forgive him, and they could start over.