Theodora felt terrible for making everyone emotional on their last day together.
“I always thought I would be the one to run. Or I would be the one to leave before anyone could hurt me. But I did not run. I let myself feel everything only for him to leave.”
Maria reached for her hand. “Theo?—”
“No,” Theodora said softly. “It is all right. Truly. I am not angry anymore. I am just… tired.”
Anna brushed a tear from her cheek. “You do not deserve this!”
“Maybe, Idodeserve this,” Theodora said. “I was naïve.”
Evelina wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You are an intelligent young woman with a good head on her shoulders. You are far from naïve!”
“Thank you.” Theodora smiled softly at her sister.
Her friends fell silent, each of them fighting their own emotions. Maria wiped her eyes. Anna pressed her hand to her mouth and Evelina held Theodora as if she could keep her from slipping away.
“You will make quite an attractive nun,” Anna muttered with a coy smile.
They all hesitated before bursting into raucous unladylike laughter and Theodora savored the sweet moment shared between them.
CHAPTER 28
My dearest Theodora,
I do not know what is happening in London, and I fear something must be terribly wrong, because you have not answered a single one of my letters. I have written every day, and nothing has come back to me. I miss you. I miss your mind, your wit, your calm way of explaining things when I panic. I miss you terribly.
“As do I,” Alexander said before he continued reading.
I must tell you something about Alexander.
“Oh?” He raised a brow.
He is… not himself. He is in a numb state. He barely leaves the house. He even refused an invitation to a ball…can you imagine? Alexander Kendall, the Scarlet Duke, refusing a ball? I nearly fainted. He drinks too much, he broods, he snaps atthe servants, and he barely speaks to me. I do not know what happened to him in London, but I know something did. I know it in my bones.
If you know anything, can you please write back?Please tell me you are well. I am worried sick and I feel as though you are upset with me.
Your loving friend,
Rosalind Kendall
Alexander let out a long, exhausted sigh. He did not mean to read the letter, but Rosalind had left it to dry on his table and once he saw Theodora’s name, he could not help himself. He stared at the words for a moment, then pressed the folded paper against his forehead as if the cool wax might soothe the pounding behind his eyes. He wished, at that moment, that he could go to the Iron Pit. But he was far from the city and did not have the energy to seek out a boxing ring in Wiltshire.
I am ruining everything again.
Not just for himself, he had long accepted that he was a man who excelled at self-destruction, but for Rosalind too. And she had been doing so well. She had been hopeful, bright, and alive in a way he had not seen in years. And now he was dragging her down with him.
Alexander set the letter on the desk just as footsteps approached the study door. He barely had time to shove it into the drawer before Rosalind stepped inside.
She paused, eyes narrowing at him suspiciously. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” he said too quickly.
Rosalind raised a brow. “I am tired of hearing that word from you.”
Alexander slumped back into the armchair, reaching automatically for the decanter. He poured himself another drink, the amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
Rosalind crossed her arms. “You know, you did not give up on me. Not once. Not when I was sick with melancholy. Nor when I was unbearably quiet and continuously pushed you away?—”
