Page 58 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

Monday

Tick tock

That’s all the note says. That’s all the bloody note needs to say. I know exactly who it’s from and why it’s here. The fucking arsehole continues to taunt me, continues to tempt me.

Sliding back to my desk, I pull out a sheet of paper and pen a note to Cynthia. Even if she refuses to see me, she’ll at least accept my correspondence. Maybe then I’ll be able to get through to her.

I look out the window as despondency drips through my veins. She’s being fitted for her dress today. At least that’s what my sisters say. They’re elated to be going alone. To them, this is proof they’re all still fast friends.

It confirms that I was right. I was the problem. Not them. Never them. Only me.

Chapter 29

Cynthia

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, smoothing the pale lavender dress down over my hips. It fits perfectly, even with me barely eating. The modiste is certainly a magician. Only, as I stare at it, I feel nothing. It feels like any other dress for any other day. But it’s not.

As the triplets cry out and clap, showing their enthusiasm, I feign a smile for their benefit. They were so distraught at my leaving that I’ll do anything, even put on a false smile, to make sure they don’t feel that way again.

With my dress and trousseau ready, there’s nothing else I can do. Everything is plain, modest, dresses fit for the daughter of a baron. I’m sure Henhaven won’t mind. He seems a practical sort that won’t want to spend extra money if he doesn’t have to.

By the time I get back to Teresa’s house, I’m emotionally worn and physically spent. All I want to do is crawl into the nursery and hold Thomas. It’s so soothing being with him.

The footman hands me a letter the moment I walk in, and it’s from Charles. My heart pounds in my chest as I wave it away, telling him to return it. I no longer have any need.

I watch as he takes it back, and a small part of me wants to snatch it up and hold it close. Will it ever stop hurting so much? Will I ever be free of this torment?

Chapter 30

Cynthia

Tuesday

Roses from Henhaven. Practical. Expected. Dutiful. Of course, the note is effusive. Well wishes and hopes for our future and all that. But then, of course, he’d send me such missives. He’s to be my husband. It’s quite natural.

Why then do I get ill reading his name at the bottom?Normally, he signed his letters with David, and I had no problem with it. This time, just seeing it makes me want to choke and spill my contents upon the floor when I read it.

David Richardson. David Edward Richardson. Cynthia Margaret Richardson. I look at my reflection in the mirror. Cynthia Margaret Richardson. Tears gather in my eyes, blurring my vision. Far better to be Cynthia Margaret Barrington. But that will not happen.

Each day closer to the wedding, I lose hope. Each day closer means it will certainly happen. Each day closer, I am one day sooner to becoming Cynthia Margaret Richardson, and I can barely stomach the thought.

Chapter 31

Cynthia

Wednesday

“The Duke of Norhaven has come to call.”

“Please tell him I’m not at home.”

Teresa gives me a sympathetic smile as she pats Thomas’s back. “You cannot avoid him forever, you know. He’s the brother to your best friends.”

“I know that,” I moan as I drop my head into my hands. “Don’t you think I know that? It’s part of what makes it all so difficult. He’s everywhere. The man isn’t giving me room to breathe.”

“He cares for you,” she murmurs.

“Yes. And?”