“Is that what you thought?” Theodore knew there was only one way out of this. She had seen him at his lowest now, and he couldn’t bear it.
He was better alone. Better when it was just him and the ghosts that haunted him from the past. Letting Margaret into his life now, was too much.
I have to get rid of her.
“You were wrong.” He leaned toward her, making his voice as dark as possible. “Do you not remember what I told you the other day? I have a heart of stone. If you thought we were making a home here together, that is because it is the illusion I was building for the world to see. To protect our reputations.Thatis all.”
“No.” She shook her head as she blinked rapidly. “I do not believe that.”
“Why not?” he snapped.
“Because tonight, you held onto me. When your mother walked toward us, I felt the fear, even as you closed down any expression on your face. And your hand… Theo.” She leaned toward him as her mirrored her movement, leaning away. “You held onto me. You didn’t want to let me go.”
“That was a mere stiffening of my body out of anger at seeing her there. It was nothing more. It certainly…” he deepened his voice. “Had nothing to do withyou.”
He walked around her, heading toward the top of the stairs.
“Are you saying you have never felt anything for me?” Her words made him halt on the top step. He slowly turned back to face her.
Maggie’s cheeks were red, the tears pooling in her eyes now she hadn’t let them fall yet.
“Never anything?” She took a single step up. “All those mornings smiling in my company as we read the paper together. When you caught me as I fell from the ladder. When you held my waist tonight. Not one of these times did you feel anything from me? Not once?”
Something in his chest ached. He had to get rid of this pain.
Now. Let this be done, now!
“Not once,” he mimicked her words, standing as tall as he could as he adjusted his lapels, so everything laid perfectly neatly. Her lips fell open, but she said nothing. “Don’t you see?” he muttered, taking a step toward her, so he towered over her. “I have tried to warn you, again and again, Margaret. I am a monster. I have no heart. If you pinned any hope on me, that was your own delusion. The day I proposed to you, I made it clear what this was –”
“You kissed my hand that day,” she murmured, as a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Because it is the done thing. Don’t be a fool, Maggie.” It was a slip to use her nickname, but he corrected himself quickly, standing tall and retreating up the steps again. “I’m as twisted as they come. If you didn’t heed my warnings, that is your own fault. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
He turned and walked away, marching across the corridor. Something locked tight in his stomach, the sickening feeling growing worse the more he walked away. He heard Margaret’s breath hitch. He nearly turned back. He was so close to giving into the temptation of looking at her, but he defied his own wishes, refusing to give in.
He heard her breathing wrack now as she gave way to all her tears. It made him walk away as fast as he possibly could, practically running toward his chamber.
As he reached his room, he kicked the door shut and tore off his tailcoat. He folded his up, obsessively neatly, then placed it down on a stool. In his haste, he made a mess of his folding. He grunted in annoyance, folding once again, then snatched off his cravat, doing the same with that. He became frantic, undressing as quickly as he could, placing everything down as cleanly and as neatly as he could.
As he took off his shirt, he caught his toilette box and knocked it onto the floor. The glass bottles shattered into pieces, his shaving brush rolling away across the rug.
Furious, he threw himself down onto the bed, holding his hands over his face as he breathed heavily.
“What a god-awful night!” he snapped, yelling the words into his hands.
How had everything come to this? Yet now he had made up his mind, there were no doubts about his decision. He would rise as early as he could in the morning, ask Yates to pack his things and send them onto wherever he went next. He had a country seat in Buckinghamshire. That was perhaps the best place to go now, to get some distance between him, Margaret… and Catherine too.
It took many minutes for Theodore to gather himself and stand up, tending to the mess he had made on the rug. The whole time he was cleaning, he kept looking back at the door which adjoined to Margaret’s chamber. He waited, listening attentively, to see if she would return to her chamber, but there were no tiptoeing feet, no stifled crying, no creaking of floorboards.
She has not come to bed.
For some reason, this mattered. When he eventually undressed fully and climbed into bed, he found he couldn’t sleep. He sat up in bed and stared at the adjoining door, trying to hear when Margaret would come to bed.
The moonlight glinted through the curtains, the white orb drifting across the night sky, but not once as that light moved was there a sound next door.
Maggie never went to bed.
Margaret hovered outside of the carriage, looking across the estate to where she was certain she had seen the figure.
