Chapter 74
The birthday party, just as I had predicted with certainty, was dreadful.
Ordinarily, I would have found myself ensnared within a suffocating circle of noblewomen, forced to endure an endless parade of insipid gossip, false pleasantries, and envious glances masked beneath brittle smiles. Yet, due to my title, I had instead been cast into the noblemen's ever-tiresome subject of business dealings.
And Kyle stood cheerfully at my side, entirely at ease amidst the aristocracy that I loathed.
"Your Ladyship," one of the men drawled, a viscount whose name I could not be troubled to remember. "Lorynthall and I have a contract regarding the mines in the west. I have completed my portion of the agreement and am merely awaiting your signature on the documents I dispatched over a week ago. Might I inquire if you have had the opportunity to review them?"
A sudden and acute sense of irritation clawed at my patience. I would rather endure a lifetime of frivolous chatter among noblewomen than entangle myself in the tedious affairs of industry among these men.
"Give Her Ladyship some time to settle in," another nobleman interjected with an amiable chuckle. "But when you do, Your Ladyship, might I trouble you for an update regarding the mines in the north?"
"Oi, I can help!" Kyle chimed in.
The evening dragged on, the oppressive weight of the ballroom pressing down upon me as time crawled at a torturous pace. The chandeliers above bathed the space in their golden glow, but it was the moonlight that drew my attention, its silver beams spilling in through the grand windows, offering a glimpse of a world far beyond this insipid gathering.
Wine had become my sole reprieve. Glass after glass passed my lips, each sip dulling the sharp edge of my mounting frustrations. Even now, in a different cluster of insufferable noblemen, the conversation remained unchanged. Business, profits, alliances. Their words blurred into a meaningless hum, drifting past me as though carried away by the very air itself.
And then, my eyes found her.
Millicent Vaneeri.
She stood on the opposite end of the ballroom, her presence a striking contrast against the faceless nobility surrounding her. A glass of red wine rested effortlessly in her grasp, and she, as always, held herself with the kind of poised indifference that left those around her both in awe and in fear.
My pulse quickened, and for a fleeting moment, the room seemed to shrink.
She spoke before she turned and disappeared through the back door. My body reacted before my mind could intervene. My foot moved, following after her.
"Love, where're you goin'?" Kyle's voice reached me.
"Please excuse me," I murmured to the gathered nobles, though I hardly afforded them a glance. My feet were already carrying me away. "I shall return shortly."
My eye remained fixed upon the door Millicent had vanished through. As I reached for the handle, my fingers trembled, a silent war raging between logic and the reckless desires of my heart.
This was wrong. Cruel, even. Kyle stood inside, unaware, undeserving of this betrayal. And yet, my heart did not heed reason, nor did my hands obey the call of propriety. My grip tightened, and with a sharp intake of breath, I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.
The cool night air greeted me. I stepped forward, allowing the door to click shut behind me. The tap of my cane upon the stone path echoed in the quiet, the sound a stark contrast to the suffocating noise of the ballroom I had left behind.
The path led me forward, winding toward the heart of the garden. In the center stood a grand fountain, a statue of an angel cradling water in its outstretched hands. The sight did not hold my attention for long. My eye darted about, searching, seeking her.
What would I say when I found her? What could I say? I had no answers, only the suffocating weight of a longing I could no longer suppress. The wine in my veins urged me forward, dulling reason.
And then, I saw her.
Beneath the silver glow of the moon, she stood near the lake, her back to me. She did not move, she merely stared at the water, her stillness so profound that it ached.
She looked so lonely.
My vision blurred. My lips quivered, and I clenched my teeth, willing the sob in my throat to stay buried. But the pain was relentless, a searing wound that refused to close. It hurt. Heavens, it hurt.
Why had I been so cruel to her?
I should have tempered my anger. I should have reached for her instead of lashing out. I should have done many things, yet all I had done was destroy.
Footsteps echoed behind me. I hastily blinked away my tears, drawing in a steady breath, smoothing my expression.
"Oh, would you look at that view!" Kyle's loud voice rang out, piercing through the delicate silence.
Millicent turned slowly, and in a desperate act, I twisted to face Kyle before she could fully lay her eyes upon me.
"Oh, and the Duchess!" Kyle exclaimed. "Good evenin', Your Grace!" He even had the audacity to lift his arm in greeting, waving as though we were nothing more than old friends sharing a casual encounter.
My fingers clenched around the handle of my cane, a slight tremor betraying the effort it took to keep myself composed.
Kyle latched his hand onto mine and tugged me forward. "C'mon, love, let's go greet Her Grace properly."
Every step forward felt as though I were wading deeper into an abyss. I was afraid. Afraid of standing before her with my husband at my side. Afraid of inflicting upon her the same agony that had festered within me.
And yet, I was even more terrified of something else entirely-what if she no longer held any love for me at all?
When we reached her, my fears clawed deeper into my heart, for she stood there with a polite smile, her hands clasped casually behind her back, as though nothing in the world could touch her.
"Fancy seeing the Woodstone family here tonight," she remarked smoothly, her voice composed, elegant, untouched by emotion. "Has the evening been treating the both of you well?"
Kyle beamed. "Aye, it's been wonderful! Your Grace, how is it I'm just now seein' ya? Did ya just arrive?"
She chuckled, soft and effortless. "I have been here from the beginning."
I could not bear to look at her any longer. My gaze dropped, finding the ground far more merciful.
"Ah, I see," Kyle said. "Well, may we join you? The scenery here is somethin' else. Never thought someone could have this in their own backyard!"
"Actually, I was just about to take my leave. So you arrived at the perfect moment."
Liar.
"Enjoy the rest of this lovely evening," she added. "It was a pleasure running into you both, Mr. Woodstone. Your Ladyship."
And just like that, she was gone.
I did not look up.
I could not.
We returned to the ballroom, where the revelry had only intensified. More wine flowed, the music had grown louder, and the scent of excess clung to the air. Drunken figures swayed to the melody, their laughter unrestrained, their inhibitions discarded. Those who had indulged beyond their limits were unceremoniously hauled away by disapproving relatives or companions.
I was not entirely sober myself.
I surrendered to the wine, my only fleeting solace. I sat absentmindedly upon a bench. Kyle, far more intoxicated than I, roared with laughter among a crowd of equally inebriated men.
A laugh, loud and unrestrained, caught my attention.
"This is the first time I have ever heard of Her Grace succumbing to drink," a man mused.
My head snapped in his direction.
Viscount Wick. A short, rotund man well into middle age, his complexion ruddy from the wine, his lips curled in amusement. He sat with a young maid at his side, her expression taut with unease.
"It is true," the maid murmured, her voice so hushed I would not have heard it had I not already tuned out the rest of the world.
A peculiar sensation twisted within me, one I did not care to name. Without thought, without reason, I grasped my cane and pushed myself upright, my legs unsteady beneath me.
The viscount chuckled, turning back to the maid. "Well, if she is truly in such a state, go and fetch Mr. Beltmore."
The maid bowed and turned to leave.
And my feet followed.
I trailed her at a careful distance, my drunken mind struggling to keep my steps measured. At times, she seemed to split into two, then one again. It was a miracle I had yet to collapse entirely.
At last, she arrived at a door and slipped inside. I lingered behind an ornate vase. Moments later, the maid reemerged, disappearing down the hall.
The moment she was gone, I moved. My hand found the door handle, my heart a drumbeat in my chest. With the reckless determination of the truly lost, I stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind me.
Millicent lay upon the bed, atop the blankets, her form still, her face unreadable. Her crimson eyes met mine. I did not know why I was here. I did not know what I was doing.