He handed his hat and gloves to Stevenson upon entering his home.
“How was she today?” he asked, eager to hear any news about his wife.
When he noticed that the other man wasn’t meeting his eyes, his mood plummeted.
“Your Grace,” his valet stammered, and Talbot leaned on the bannister of the staircase, preparing himself for the worst. “Your wife left.”
Chapter 27
Elizabeth Talbot, Duchess of Norwich, woke up one morning and realised that she no longer wanted to stay in that unfamiliar, unhappy house with that man, so she had Mary and Mrs. White pack her things (instructing them to leave behind all the dresses that the liar had ordered for her!) and summoned Mister Ed to drive her home.
Her mother tried to talk her out of it, but after a while, Elizabeth simply walked out of the room without further argument.
As her belongings were being packed (an event that, although initiated by her, she couldn’t bear to watch for some reason), Lizzie sat with Thunder in the garden. The dog was moving to Mayfair as well, since, despite having been procured by her deplorable husband, she felt that he was part of her people now.
As soon as she arrived in her old house, she immediately sent out notes to inform her friends of her change in address, too tired to include thewhyof it all. She spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, explaining to the women of the Mayfair house why shefelt she needed to be apart from her husband, while her mother most likely cried in her room.
“And for how long do you think he will allow you to do that?” Mrs. Barlow asked anxiously.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t see why he has toallowit. Aunt Isolde was away from her husband for months while she chaperoned me. I don’t think it is uncommon for people like them to live apart.”
“But your aunt is older and she has already given her husband children. The duke is young, and well, has no heir yet,” Jane said with a pointed look.
Elizabeth pursed her lips together. “With all due respect, his heir is the last thing on my mind right now.”
“I understand that perfectly, my child, but men are not like women,” Mrs. Barlow said compassionately. “And he’s a man used to getting what he wants, from what I’ve gathered.”
“I don’t think the Duke will be causing problems for Lizzie,” Mary said confidently, and the two older women exchanged a doubtful glance.
“What does your mother think of all this?” Jane asked carefully.
Lizzie sighed and shook her head, and it was perfectly clear to all of them how her mother felt. She had talked to Catherine about Colin’s betrayal several times during her recovery (No! Not Colin! The duke! Talbot!She chastised herself internally.), but judging from Catherine’s remarks, it had been pretty obvious that her mother was truly incapable of grasping the severity of his actions. Her words from that morning still stung.
“Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, Lizzie. He’s a good man, he married you when he didn’t have to,” Catherine had said.
“Can it ever be about me, Ma, and about what I want? Maybe I didn’t want to marry him, have you ever considered that?” Elizabeth had yelled, exasperated.
“How could you not want to marry him? Do you not realise how lucky you are, how safe? You’re a duchess, you never have to worry about anything ever again!”
“Only my husband’s utter disdain for me,” Lizzie had replied through her sobs.
She closed her eyes against the memory.
“It’s late,” she told the women assembled at the kitchen table. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”
“I’ll come up and help,” Mary said as she stood up, but Lizzie shook her head.
“You’ve exerted yourself enough for today. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
*
A strange sense of loss came over Elizabeth as she settled into her girlhood bed. She could deeply feel the November cold, despite the fire and the thick, down-filled covers (which had no initials or family crests embroidered on them, she noted absent-mindedly). She was so cold, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind contrasted her present state with how warm the bedroom in the St. James Square house was, and how safe it had felt to relax and fall asleep in Colin’s arms (for he obstinately remainedColinin her treacherous mind).
The image that logically followed the memory of falling asleep with him was being awoken by his contagious desire. As her cheeks burned with shame, Elizabeth remembered how she had been on her elbows and knees for him most mornings, how delicious the cold air of the morning had felt on her backside and entrance, and how that particular position of her body somehow had always felt both indecent and infinitely exciting.
Elizabeth was suddenly furious with herself for having allowedthat manto witness her in such a state, before her (now not-so-treacherous) mind offered her a memory of Colin’s helpless moans, slack-jawed awe, and the genuine delight he’d exhibited whenever they had beentogether.
She closed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to physically dislodge these thoughts from her head, but this back and forth recurred no matter what part of their marriage she thought of: one moment, she’d be upset with herself for her naivete and the tenderness she’d shown her husband, but would then recall his attentiveness and kindness towards her. What was the truth?
