“Are we truly leaving?” Matilda asked Charity the next morning. Her two younger sisters just had the news broken to them, and their reactions were not the most accepting.
“Yes. I would urge you to pack whatever it is that you need,” Charity went on. “We are to return to our home in London tomorrow morning.”
Matilda pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest in protest.
“What if I say I do not want to go?” she continued to pout, “what then? Will you change your mind then?”
“It is not something that can be changed,” Charity sighed. It was amazing just how much her sisters’ opinions had changed about the duke. In the corner of the room, Augusta had her face similarly puffed up.
“I just don’t get it,” Augusta spoke up for the first time, shaking her head. “What is the reason to call off the wedding? Everything had been prepared, and you both had agreed to it.”
Charity sighed, feeling as though someone had twisted the dagger inside of her heart.
“Yes, but that was before the Uncle Edward problem got solved,” Charity replied. “Now, it does not make much sense for the two of us to marry.”
“Sense?” Augusta crumpled her nose, “but who cares about sense, truly? You love him, why would you let him go so easily?”
Charity looked at her sister, horrified.
“What?” Augusta went on, though in a softer tone. “Don’t act so surprised. Of course, you love him; it is obvious to anyone with eyes and ears.”
Charity’s cheeks were burning red now, and she tore her gaze away from her sister.
“Well…” she grumbled under her breath, “I suppose love is not enough in this situation.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Augusta said, getting even more charged up. “Why would you say such a stupid thing? Who decided that? Did you even tell him how you feel?”
“If he returned my feelings, then he would have told me himself,” Charity said, resignation coloring her tone. “That is the god-honest truth of it, and it would be foolish to expect any sort of other outcome.”
“Yes, well, that is what you say,” Augusta went on undeterred, “and in an ideal world that could be true. But there is nothing conventional about how the two of met, so therefore one cannot expect a love confession to happen in the same way.”
Charity stared at her sister for a moment, trying to understand what she was getting at.
“What I mean to say is,” Augusta clarified, “that if you wish to be with him, then you must be the one to confess your feelings. I am sure that they are returned.”
“Oh, no,” Charity shook her head immediately. “I cannot do such a thing. You know this, and you are being ridiculous in suggesting it.”
“I am not ridiculous,” Augusta shook her head. “The only other alternative is that we go back, and you do not marry him. I don’t wish for that to happen.”
“You’ll be happy in London,” Charity tried to wager. “And soon you will forget about all of this.”
“Fine. Suppose you are correct,” Augusta sighed. “But what about yourself? How will you forget everything? Do you think that you can erase the Duke so easily?”
Charity knew that would be the ultimate sacrifice to make. All her life, she had been no stranger to sacrifice. It was just rather unfortunate that she had to do the same in her love life as well.
“I cannot keep having this conversation with you,” Charity’s tone was curt. “The truth of it is that our wedding is no longer happening, and the sooner that you two accept it, the better it is. Now, we shall leave for London tomorrow, and that is final.”
She hated being this firm with her siblings, but it seemed that they had left her with no other option.
On the other side of the estate, Duncan was locked up in his study. He had not gone for breakfast, nor had he gotten much sleep the night before.
Duncan, on the other hand, feels numb. He knows he’s doing the right thing but he never expected to feel so empty about it.
“Have ye finished yer broodin'?” Malcolm had been saying all manners of things to Duncan for the past ten minutes, though Duncan had tried his best to ignore him.
“None of your business,” he replied curtly, and took a lazy sip of whisky from his glass. The liquid burned the back of his throat, but it was a welcome relief to Duncan.
“Ye have been actin’ strange since yesterday,” Malcolm went on, narrowing his eyes. “I have known ye for years. Daenae think ye can hide yer feelings from me.”
