“I think you should,” Richard said without hesitation. “Take time. Space. Go somewhere you can breathe.”
Kitty let out a trembling sigh. “Then we should begin packing. If I wait any longer, I may begin hoping again.”
“Then let’s not wait,” Richard said. “You’ve given London enough of yourself. It is time you get some peace.”
Kitty stood slowly. Her legs were weak beneath her, her body still worn thin from sleepless nights and the sick, silent weight of heartbreak. But she stood. And that was something.
She crossed to the writing desk and looked down at the unopened letters piled there. Not a single one bore Norman’s handwriting.
“Do you suppose he ever loved me?” she asked the room.
Richard did not lie to her. “Yes,” he said after a pause. “But he did not know how to love you well.”
Kitty’s breath caught in her throat. She nodded once, and that was all.
Jane stood beside her, her voice warm but firm. “We’ll go where you wish, Kitty. And when you’re ready—when your heart no longer feels like it’s still breaking—you’ll know what comes next.”
Kitty reached up and brushed a stray tear from her cheek.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.”
“Then don’t be,” Jane whispered. “Be something new.”
And in the quiet, Kitty allowed herself—just for a moment—to imagine that new version of herself.
Not whole, not yet. But not broken either.
Only breathing.
And still standing.
It had been three days since they’d agreed to leave.
The servants had begun sorting through trunks and wardrobes. Jane had begun writing to distant acquaintances abroad to ask for recommendations on rentals. Even Richard, true to his word, had begun discreetly arranging their affairs so they could depart quickly, quietly.
But Kitty had not packed a single dress.
She told herself it was because she had time. But the truth was, the act of folding gowns into trunks felt too much like a final admission. As if she were burying something. And she was not yet ready for that.
Even if the something was already gone.
Behind her, the door opened.
Richard’s footsteps were soft, but she knew his tread—steady and composed, as if even his grief wore a waistcoat.
“There’s news,” he said gently.
She turned, and something in his face made her throat tighten.
“It’s the duke,” he added. “Or rather… his entire family.”
Kitty’s arms dropped to her sides. “What has happened?”
Richard glanced toward Jane, who set her teacup aside with care, then back to Kitty.
“It broke this morning,” he said. “The papers will have it by tomorrow, I suspect. The late Duke Egerton’s financial dealings have come under scrutiny. It seems Norman has made legal moves to sever his own liability from his father’s affairs. He’s begun proceedings to settle the debts. Publicly.”
Kitty’s lips parted in disbelief. “He’s making it public?”
