“I think,” Nicholas said slowly, his voice low and measured, “that you deserve freedom. To live as you wish. To find what you truly want.”
“And what about whatyouwant? Just days ago, you assured me that you had left the rake life behind you. And now, you suddenly decide that we are too different to co-exist,” she asked, her voice trembling with hurt. “Do you even know what this implies?”
How was this any different than a separation? Violet felt sick just thinking about it.
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—guilt, perhaps, or something deeper—but he quickly masked it. “I’ve made my decision, Violet. Which means that I have considered the implications of this very well. It does not change anything for me. I’ll begin making arrangements immediately.”
Violet sat frozen, her hands gripping the edge of the table. Her heart felt as though it were being wrenched from her chest, her mind spinning with questions. She wanted to argue, to demand an explanation that made sense, but the lump in her throat made it impossible.
What else could he even say?
Nicholas stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’ll inform the staff. There’s no need for you to worry about the logistics. I will ensure that you are looked after by the staff in my absence.”
Violet swallowed hard. For a moment, she considered watching him go, but then something snapped inside of her.
Her voice was barely audible as she said, “You’re a coward.”
Nicholas froze, his back to her. Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression guarded. “What did you say?”
“You’re running away because you’re afraid.” The words were coming out of her mouth. She could not control them.
His jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. “I have nothing to be afraid of.”
“So, you are a liar, too,” she added.
“Violet,” he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, “I should have expected you to put up a fight. But this is not something that you can talk me out of. I cannot adjust to this life—and if that makes me a coward or a liar, then so be it.”
He paused for a moment. For a second, something flashed in his expression. Something that resembled vulnerability—the first time he had let it peek through this entire conversation.
But then, he concealed it quickly.
“I am sorry, Violet,” he muttered, not meeting her gaze.
He did not wait for her to respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Violet standing there.
Violet sank back into her chair, her vision blurred with tears.
That was it. That was all it took for their connection to be ripped apart.
How could someone change their mind so quickly? How could she not see this coming before?
If he had been worried about her injury, then he had just hurt her far worse than any bodily harm that could be done on her.
He had just broken her heart.
As she sat there, now alone at the table, she didn’t know what was worse—the betrayal, the heartbreak, or the realization that she had been foolish enough to hope for something more.
CHAPTER 22
Violet hardly got a wink of sleep that night. As the morning sun rose, she found herself lying in her bed in a state of wakeful dreamlessness.
We should live separately.
She had repeated the scene more times than she was able to count. The revelation had come so unexpectedly.
The distant sound of carriage wheels on gravel snapped her out of her thoughts. She sat up abruptly, the ache in her chest sharpening. Sliding off the bed, she padded barefoot across the cold wooden floor to the window. She pushed aside the curtain just enough to see the front drive below.
There he was.
