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“A gentleman never speaks of matters of the heart.”
She gasped, hinging at the waist as his words stole the breath from her. “Matters of the heart? You are my husband. No one else is supposed to hold that place in your heart.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he muttered.
“Do you love her?”
There was that condescending sigh again as he rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I should have expected you wouldn’t understand.”
“Why? Because I’m common? Because I grew up above a shop and you went to bloody Eton with Rupert and all your other wretched friends who seem to treat their wedding vows as they would the morning’s paper—useful for a time but then disposable?”
“That is enough.”
“You took a vow, Hugo!” she continued, rage pulsing hot in her veins. “You stood at an altar and promised that you would love me and only me. You’re my husband. That is supposed to mean something!”
Revulsion, clear and forceful, flashed across his face, and Sylvia stepped back in shock. He hated her. Her husband, whom she had given so much up for, hated her.
“Do you love her?” she repeated in a whisper.
“I—” His voice broke and his features fell, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion. He looked a good twenty years older than he really was, and for the first time she could see the deep grooves etched into his forehead as he frowned.
“Whether I love her or not is a private matter.”
“Is” a private matter. Not “was.”
The affair was still happening.
“Do you regret marrying me?” she asked, unable to stop herself.
“You should not insist on embarrassing yourself, Sylvia. Besides, this matter is not up for discussion. I don’t care whether your sister buys half of it or someone else does, you will sell your stake in your mother’s shop. You will return to whatever it is that you do when I am not at home.”
Then he turned and left her standing behind his desk, the evidence of his love affair scattered in front of her. A few seconds later, the front door to the flat opened and shut with a firm click.
She wrapped her arms across her stomach and waited for the tears to come.
Nothing.
After years of pushing down every one of her own desires in service of her husband, she was hollow.
She let her arms fall to her sides.
Enough.
She didn’t know what she would do, but she couldn’t stay there in the home they had shared, waiting for him.
She went to the bedroom, slipped off her shoes, and dragged the small upholstered stool that usually sat in front of her vanity over the carpet to her wardrobe. Climbing on it, she balanced on her tiptoes and managed to grasp the handle of first one and then another of her largest suitcases.
She placed both on the bed, opened them, and went to her wardrobe. She began to pull out skirts, dresses, blouses, and even the pair of trousers she only wore around the flat because Hugo hated how unladylike he thought they were. Into the cases went jumpers and cardigans, slips, underthings, and the precious silk stockings she had been hoarding for months. She chose the best of her shoes and added gloves and her second-best handbag.
From inside her wardrobe, she drew out her train case. She put her makeup and cold cream inside. She glanced at her jewelry box, hesitating before opening it and adding the pieces that Hugo had given her. She left behind anything she knew had once belonged to his mother or grandmother.
In the dining room, she swept up her paperwork along with Izzie’s letter and sketch. Then she went to the sitting room desk where she kept her correspondence. Looping back, she placed everything on top of her clothes, slipped in her library books from her bedside table, and closed the last case.
The suitcases were heavy, but she managed to make it out of the bedroom without knocking into any of the walls. When she reached the hall closet, she put them down to retrieve her coat, put her hat on, pull on her gloves, and loop her best handbag around her right wrist.
She thought for a moment about ringing down to the night porter, but she shook off the idea. Instead, she eased open the front door, lifted her cases once again, and left the flat.
Part IV
