PROLOGUE
London
15 April 1867
A letter from her husband topped the neat stack of correspondence waiting for her on the entrance table. Alice’s gaze had alighted on the envelope as soon as she stepped into the entrance hall of her home. She paused in the act of removing her coat and gloves, her heart giving a heavy thump at the familiar handwriting. But then she shook her head and finished shedding the garments with alacrity.
It was just ink on paper, it shouldn’t affect her so. Still, she snatched the envelope, ignoring the rest of her mail, and made her way toward the cozy library where she had spent many a lovely evening with her husband. Before the break. In another lifetime. Only here, surrounded by their shared memories, she broke the seal with unsteady fingers, eager to devour its contents.
“Miss Finch”,
As you have evidently chosen to resume your maiden name, I shall honour the fiction. In fact, I shall make it a reality.
Though it has been five years since you departed our shared life, I find myself at last taking the step you seemed to anticipate long ago.
Thus, I write to inform you—before my solicitor does—that I intend to petition for divorce. I thought it only fair you hear it from me.
You are, I trust, thriving—flitting from one shadowed rendezvous to the next, perhaps accompanied by your elusive “colleague.” And while I commend your unwavering devotion to the life we once shared in espionage and subterfuge, I can no longer continue in this farce of a marriage held together only by law and long-faded illusions.
Should you wish to offer your thoughts on the matter—belated or otherwise—you may respond with all due haste. If not, expect to be contacted in the coming days regarding the legal particulars of our disentanglement.
I hope this brings a certain clarity to our situation. After all, honesty was once something we promised each other—though I suppose some vows were easier to abandon than others.
Yours formerly,
Nathaniel Greystone
Oh, Nathaniel, what have you done?
The letter slipped from Alice’s nerveless fingers, flitting to the ground, then sliding under the armchair. His armchair. Where he used to sit every night when they were home. Reading to her while she knitted. She should have had the blasted thing removed. The empty piece of furniture only taunted her every day with the memory of the man who would not return.
She made no effort to retrieve the letter. It wasn’t necessary. The contents were emblazoned on her mind as if seared with a hot iron.
What had she expected upon receiving a letter from Nathaniel? She had traced the elegant handwriting with her index finger. Her heart had leapt with joy when she read his name, as it always did at any reminder of him. Although in the five years since their parting, his infrequent communications were only about practical matters. He had never even hinted at a reconciliation. Oh, but hope springs eternal for the heart in love.
She had been foolish beyond measure. In some deep part of her heart, she had believed he still cared for her like she did for him. Despite their five-year separation, she had never stopped loving her husband.
And now he was divorcing her.
Could he do that? He had no grounds. Surely, the court would never grant the divorce. Even as the thought formed, she snorted through the ache in her throat. Of course he could obtain a divorce if he wished to do so. He was a lord now. Powerful. Well connected. And she was a nobody. Evidence could be manufactured. Witnesses bought. Didn’t she already know that justice was only for those who could afford it?
None of that mattered, though. What mattered was that he wanted to divorce her. He found her lacking. Wanted to be rid of her bad enough that he was willing to face scandal and ridicule.
There was a time when he had claimed to love her.
But not anymore. Not since he had returned to his home. Since he had assumed the title of Lord Greystone and his family had poisoned his feelings for her.
So be it then. Let this be another lesson for her not to trust anyone. Not to rely on anyone.
Her eyes overflowed, and her heart beat sluggishly in her chest as she went to her desk. But her hands were sure and steady as she set to write a reply to his missive.
Lord Greystone,
I received your letter.
You seem quite resolved, and I see little purpose in contesting a decision so clearly made. I have nothing to add, nor any desire to prolong what has already been long concluded in practice, if not in name.
Please proceed as you see fit.
