DALE HAD BEEN WRITINGcompulsively since yesterday. Unfortunately, the sleep that claimed him after Livvy left was not the eternal kind. He had woken up with so many emotions bottled up inside; he thought he might explode. The only thing he could think to do to survive this storm of feeling that threatened to drown him was to write. Get it on paper. Maybe that way he could exorcize the emotions from his mind.
So he did. He wrote about his pain, his guilt, about the night when he had found Livvy. The powerful attraction he had felt. The wonder, the denial, the hope. The happiness. The love, the fear, and of the black despair that consumed him now. The sense that his life had no purpose anymore and... he hesitated to write it because it was such a weak and unworthy thought, but this was just for him, and if he couldn’t be honest with himself, then with whom? His desire to end it all.
After writing all night and half the next day, he felt a grain of sanity return to him. He was still in the grip of all-consuming grief, but he had dealt with grief before. In time, it might lessen to endurable levels. He could only hope.
If he found it unendurable, the ending was always available, but not before trying to survive. He should try to live well, if only because Olivia might find out about his fate. Who knows what they would say about his life and death? There were bound to be records and newspaper stories. Livvy was just the sort to dig out information about him. He would try to live a life worthy of her respect if she were to find out.
A few days later, he had to admit defeat. It wasn’t working. He was not well. Maybe he would never be again. He couldn’t focus on anything. All his duties felt burdensome when thoughts of Olivia occupied his whole mind. What was the point of it all? He was making a muck of things, trying to go on as if nothing had happened. When in truth, his entire world had stopped the moment she left.
Ten days. That’s how long he had been trying to live without Olivia, and it felt like ten years in hell. He was waiting for some semblance of recovery to appear, but it seemed like each day he was worse. His servants had been giving him worried glances. They were the epitome of discretion and would never engage in emotional behavior. But he could feel their collective worry over him, and the questions about Olivia hung heavily in the air. He wanted to escape it all. Only he didn’t know where to run to.
He had taken refuge in the library. His favorite room in the house. Closing the curtains so that not even the gray light of a cloudy afternoon could invade his retreat. Light was so intrusive when his soul had gone dark. A glass of cognac sat untouched on the table next to him. He had contemplated getting drunk, but couldn’t even summon the enthusiasm to do that.
So he sat, staring into the flames. He rubbed his hands through his face and was almost surprised to feel the bristles of a beard. How long since he had last shaved? He couldn’t even remember. Probably since before Olivia left. His hair was no better, and his face must show the ravages of little sleep. He looked down at his clothes. Still wearing his robe, even though it was afternoon. He couldn’t even bring himself to care.
A sudden knock was his only warning before his cousin Alasdair peeked into his lair.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dale asked, surprised.
“And a good day to you too, Avondale.” He strolled into the room, going to the windows to open the curtains.
Dale squinted as the light reached his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He said with exaggerated politeness. “That was rude. Good day, cousin. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit?”
“Sarcasm now? Tut, tut. You should know I’m not put off by your grumpiness. You look like hell, by the way.”
Dale glared. “Given the fact that you didn’t visit me for years, I thought it was working remarkably well. Bugger off.”
“I was out of the country for much of that time,” Alasdair replied with an amiable smile. “Besides, I didn’t think you would welcome my visits. You were a recluse.”
“I still am.”
Alasdair took the chair opposite to his and studied him. “Ah, but I thought now that you have lovely Olivia, you might be ready to rejoin society.”
“I have no such plans”, Dale said, gritting his teeth. He was not ready to talk about Livvy.
“But why? If you think that old scandal still exists, I assure you it doesn’t matter anymore. Society will receive you and your new duchess with open arms. Where is she, by the way?”
Dale had to close his eyes for a few seconds before answering that. “She’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” The bewilderment was evident in Alasdair’s voice. “Where did she go?”
“It doesn’t matter the place. She is gone, and she is not coming back.” It was the first time he said the words aloud, and it felt like a knife piercing his heart. Damn Alasdair and his meddling.
“The devil you say! How could she be gone? I saw the two of you together with my own eyes. You were in love. You were happier than I have ever seen you.”
Yes, he had been. He closed his eyes in despair. “It is a complicated story. Yes, we are in love. But as you may have surmised, she is not from here.”
“Yes, she is American, right? Her accent was a little different from that of other Americans I know. Nevertheless, their country is so vast that they have different accents—”
“Shut up Alasdair, you are babbling.”
“Sorry. I’m just so confused about all these happenings. I thought... Never mind that. What happened?”
Dale thought fast about how much to say. He’d have to start slow. If he told his cousin everything, he might think him crazy. “Yes, she is American. And she had family back in her country. Her parents and an orphaned niece she was helping to raise. She thought she might not be able to go back. But when an opportunity presented itself to return to her home, she had to take it.”
“But she married you! Isn’t that a commitment? Didn’t she know what that entailed? And why couldn’t she bring her relatives here? God knows you have enough space in this house to house several families.”
Dale sighed. “Not that easy.”
