She shook her head no. Ash would not haveleft. Not without saying a proper farewell. He was just out for a ride.
Please let him be out for a ride.
She went to the window. Heavy mist hung in the air, obscuring her sight, though branches emerged from the grayish foam as if floating, unattached. The effect was disturbingly grim.
Even if Ash was out there, she wouldn’t be able to see him.
Her fear turned to dread, threatening to spread out from her heart in permanent cracks. For three days, Ash had pleasured her, fed her, held her, and in turn, she’d relinquished her only true possession—her body. She’d trusted him, opened to him, granted every desire. Even if he were the devil duke he claimed, he would not abandon her on the morning they were to part.
He owed her a proper goodbye. One that would acknowledge her consummate surrender, one she could hold close thorough the lonely nights to come.
She searched back through the prior night, searching for something she might have done wrong. She found none—she’d betrayed her hope for a different end into the silence of her heart, but never aloud.
There was no way he could have known she was falling in love.
She held her hands to her cheeks. Calm. She needed calm.
And she needed to get dressed.
The simple tradeswoman’s dress in which she’d arrived wasn’t made for women with time and help to spare, but her shaking fingers made fastening the ties almost impossible.
She prayed Ash would be waiting for her below, but deep inside, she knew the truth. When she descended into the empty hall, she felt no shock.
“Miss, is that you?” Mrs. Kent called up from the kitchens below.
“Yes.” Her voice wobbled, teetering on despair.
She’d thought she’d touched Ash’s heart as deeply as he’d touched her own. She’d been wrong. So very wrong.
What kind of person bought a woman’s body, coaxed her to give him her soul, and then disappeared, without the smallest gesture?
She hadn’t expected gratitude. Kindness would have been enough.
Mrs. Kent came up the stairs.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she asked.
Mrs. Kent’s gaze flicked to the door, and then she dropped her eyes. But Alicia had already seen the flash of disapproval.
“I’ve made cakes for your travels.”
“Thank you.” Alicia couldn’t force a bite if she tried.
The door opened. Alicia’s heart stuttered as she turned.
“The carriage is ready, ma’am.” Mr. Kent bowed, looking weary.
“Thank you,” she forced again.
How could he not be here?
Nights, she reminded herself. They’d agreed to nights. Not to mornings. Not to sentimental goodbyes.
How could he not be here?
She lifted her chin. This wasn’t the first time she’d suffered humiliation. She would get through this, just like she got through Octavius’s rejection, his affair, and his death. Just because Octavius had never made her feel precious—
Her shoulders heaved.
