CHAPTER 20
“Imust insist you leave a card, Your Grace. Lady Maribel is not receiving visitors today.”
The butler’s tone brooked no argument, but Thaddeus had not travelled four hours from Blackwood to be turned away at the door. He stood on the front steps of Lady Eleanor’s townhouse, rain dripping from his coat despite the umbrella he’d carried from the hired carriage. The morning was grey and cold, matching the reception he was receiving.
“I will wait,” he said quietly. “As long as necessary.”
The butler’s expression remained impassive. “Lady Eleanor is indisposed. If you would care to return tomorrow?—”
“Daniel, who is it?”
Lady Eleanor’s voice carried from somewhere within the house, sharp and imperious. The butler’s jaw tightened fractionally.
“The Duke of Blackwood, my lady.”
A pause followed the man’s words. Then Lady Eleanor spoke again, and he was certain he detected the smallest hint of amusement in her tone. “Show him to the drawing room. I shall be down momentarily.”
The butler stepped aside with obvious reluctance, and Thaddeus entered. The townhouse was modest compared to Blackwood—genteel rather than grand, comfortable rather than imposing. The sort of home built for living rather than display. He followed Walcott down a corridor lined with watercolours and into a drawing room decorated in soft blues and creams.
“Lady Eleanor will join you shortly,” Walcott said, and departed before Thaddeus could respond.
The door closed with a decisive click.
Thaddeus stood in the centre of the room and tried to steady his breathing. His hands trembled slightly. He clasped them behind his back to still them, then thought better of it and let them fall to his sides. Control had been his refuge for too long. It was time to stop hiding.
The mantel clock ticked steadily. Minutes passed. Thaddeus did not sit. Did not pace. He simply waited, aware that this delay was intentional. He was not quite sure whether it was a test or a punishment.
He deserved both.
After what felt like an eternity but was likely only ten minutes, the door opened.
Lady Eleanor swept in, her eyes finding his almost instantly. Silence settled between them.
She did not offer her hand. Did not invite him to sit.
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice carrying all the warmth of winter frost. “I confess I am surprised to see you. I had thought you preferred isolation.”
Thaddeus inclined his head. “Lady Eleanor. I apologise for arriving unannounced. I hoped to speak with Lady Maribel, if she will consent to see me.”
“Will she consent.” Eleanor’s mouth curved into something that was not quite a smile. “How kind of you to consider what it is that she wants—or needs. One might have expected such consideration earlier. Perhaps you made her feel like an obligation rather than a wife. Or—” Her voice sharpened. “—before you allowed her to believe she mattered and then reminded her, quite brutally, that she did not.”
Thaddeus forced himself to meet her gaze without flinching.
“You are correct,” he said quietly. “I have treated her abominably. And I have come to acknowledge that. To her, directly, if she will allow it.”
“Acknowledgment.” Eleanor crossed to the fireplace, her movements deliberate. “How convenient. And what precisely do you hope to gain from this acknowledgment, Your Grace? Absolution? The restoration of domestic convenience? Or merely the satisfaction of having apologised so that you might tell yourself you tried?”
“I hope to gain nothing,” Thaddeus said. “I came because she deserves to hear the truth. All of it. Without defence or justification. Whether she chooses to forgive me is entirely her decision.”
Eleanor studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You changed her. It was a… stubborn, strong-willed, brave girl who entered that manor. And you sent back a shadow of who she was.”
The words struck deeper than any rebuke. Thaddeus felt his throat tighten.
“I know.”
“Do you?” Eleanor’s eyes bored into him. “Do you have any idea how she must…” She seemed to change her mind, and shook her head. “You disappointed me, Your Grace.”
Thaddeus’s hands clenched at his sides. “Lady Eleanor, I?—”
