"Isobel left," Andrew said. "She chose to leave."
"Because you told her to!" Norman gave him a small shake. "You asked for time alone, and she gave you exactly what you asked for. But Andrew, you can't expect her to read your mind. If you want her back, you have to tell her. You must show her. You have to humble yourself and admit you were wrong and beg if you have to."
"I don't—" Andrew stopped, swallowing hard. "I don't know how."
"How to what? How to beg?"
"How to be the man she deserves." The words came out broken. "I don't know how to be a good husband, Norman. I've never stayed with a woman long enough to learn what it takes to keep her happy enough to stay willingly by my side. With Isobel, I thought, I hoped, but I keep making the same mistakes. Choosing the wrong things. Pushing her away when I should be pulling her closer."
"Then start by admitting that." Norman's hands gentled on his shoulders. "Start by telling her the truth—that you're terrified and confused and you don't know what you're doing. That you love her, and you need her and you want to do better. That's all any of us can do, Andrew. We stumble through this marriage business and hope we don't completely cock it up."
"I don't deserve her."
"Probably not." Norman smiled slightly. "But that's never stopped a man from trying to be worthy of a good woman's love.And if Isobel is as important to you as Kitty is to me, then you have to try everything, Andrew. You must fight for her. Because if you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
Andrew stared at his cousin, his friend, the man who'd somehow managed to build a happy marriage despite being as foolish and flawed as Andrew himself.
Andrew looked around his study, taking in the evidence of his isolation. The cold fireplace. The untouched food trays. The ledgers that meant nothing without someone to share his successes with.
Chance had crept back over, nudging Andrew's hand with his nose. Looking up at him with those soulful eyes that seemed to ask,
Where is she? When is she coming home?
"I need to go get my wife," Andrew said suddenly.
"Yes, you do." Norman grinned. "But first, for God's sake, bathe. You smell like a stable."
Despite everything, Andrew felt his lips twitch. "Thank you, Norman."
"That's what family is for. Telling you when you're being an idiot and helping you fix it.”
Norman left, and Andrew stood alone in his study.
He moved to the window, looking out over the gardens where he and Isobel had trained Chance together. Where they'd laughed and teased and built something that felt like a real marriage.
He didn't know who Andrew Pasley was without the Mayfair Fox.
But perhaps it was time to find out.
And perhaps, if he was very lucky and very honest, Isobel would help him figure it out.
He had a wife to win back. And this time, he wasn't going to let fear stop him from fighting for what mattered most. But first he needed to make a quick trip to Surrey.
For the next few days, he threw himself into his tasks, inspecting, planning, and arranging every detail with care. All the while, thoughts of Isobel never left him. Every decision, every action, was guided by the desire to make things right.
When he was satisfied that everything was in place, Andrew returned to London. He went to the Mayfair Fox alone.
Daylight stripped the ruin of any illusion the fire had left behind. What remained was brick and char, blackened beams jutting atbroken angles, the scent of smoke still clinging stubbornly to the air.
He stepped carefully through what had once been the heart of it — the room he had built, expanded, defended. The place he had sworn was the most important thing in his life.
It was silent now.
Andrew closed his eyes, a hollow pressure settling behind his ribs. He had spent years believing this — these walls, this name, this enterprise — were proof of his worth. That if he protected it fiercely enough, it would never leave him.
He had been wrong.
The Fox had burned because it was only brick and timber, no matter how much meaning he had layered upon it.
