Foolishly Falling for You

30

Anita

If I try to get divorced, my father will just try to set me up with another match. And yet, I fear if I spend another day with Lance, I may lose sight of my dream of freedom. I watch the sight of my house with the porch swing drifting away as his carriage pulls into the drive. I watch him, golden rays scattering in his dark hair, his military uniform fitting and tailored.

I thought I had killed and buried that hope, snuffed it out once and for all, but here we are, and inside me is rousing a fleeting sprinkle of hope, and it's quickly turning into a storm.

He's walking toward the house, I fight to keep my feet planted, but I give in and head downstairs to meet him. He's not a social man, he doesn't go out. I follow, just as he enters the house, setting his tailcoat off and setting it on the console table instead of the coat rack. He must be distraught. He's such a stickler for order, it isn't like him to be so haphazard. His brow is creased, as he looks up, catching my eyes.

I swallow the urge to ask him where he went.

"Went to see your brother." He murmured hoarsely, nodding at my arm. I cover the bruise with my hand, but it's not big enough to obscure it all together.

"Oh? I didn't know you were scheduled for a gathering with him," I edge closer.

Lance's eyes flutter. "I wasn't. I had a sneaking suspicion he had done that to you."

Lance clenches his jaw, leaning against the entry wall.

"Leave us," he orders gently. The servants scatter, leaving just the two of us. His green gaze is intense.

"You never did tell me why your family doctor used such barbaric methods. What they were treating. And my doctor couldn't find a reason, and yet...he said you were fine. I was worried about nothing."

I purse my lips into a thin line, sinking my nails into my arm. A swirl begins in my stomach, making me ill at ease.

"You do not visit your family," he says, carefully, thoughtfully. "Do not speak of them, the so-called flower of society— the Duke's beloved daughter."
I shake my head gently. I want to stop. I do not wish to speak about any of this.

"And the one time your brother visits...he does that. Is that any way to treat his only sister who hasn't seen in years?"

"I should go over the budget—"

"Don't move," Lance demands, not raising his voice. He looks over me and purses his lips. "Your demeanor is so odd for a noblewoman, especially when you decided to divorce me. I wondered where I had seen it before."

I edge backward, clenching my jaw.

"So I demanded under threat of bodily harm that Carlos tell me what the big secret was. What I was missing."

His lips twitch downward. "Your father did that. Most of them. And you chose me because you knew he would let you marry me early. And get you out of his house. A house powerful enough that you'd be safe but not so powerful he'd have a vested interest in you anymore."

Lance's face is still but those eyes betray him. They glisten. I look away from him.

"What I took as a girl's mere obsession...was her desperate plea for safety. You never told me. You never would've."

I swallow. Who would? It's humiliating, Why would I change the narrative from the Duke's Beloved Daughter...to his abused pawn.

"I of all people should've known. But he had so many stories to tell, Anita. So many things about my wife I learned from this scoundrel. Like the child—"
"Shut up," I hiss.

"That they told you to hide. That you—that was lost. He said...the duke didn't want me to divorce you, because you were—"

I stalk away and he doesn't tell me to come back. "Matteo. Were you going to name him that?"

I look back, my vision blurs. He approaches me, carefully. I step back. He steps forward until my back is pressed against the living room wall. My gaze darts to the door and to him. He reaches out, cupping my cheek.

"You don't have to worry about them. I will grant you a divorce if you want it, Anita. I will never let them hurt you again."

I look down. "I cannot bear you a son—"
"I don't care."
"I'm really fine. It was just discipline. My father believes in tough love,"

He touches my side, to the scars we both know reside there. "That is not love. I know love. I was loved by you. Love doesn't feel like that."

Easy for him to say. But my every encounter with love has felt just as painful. He's fortunate. He experienced my love. But I am cursed because I received his. He has given me wounds his newfound affection cannot salve, try as he might.

But I have nothing to say to the face of his kindness. His hand drifts down, to my very empty womb, those tears glistening in his grassy green eyes finally spilling over.

"I'm sorry I wasn't...there to help you. I'm so...sorry."

I smile. "It's alright. I made it out okay, didn't I?"

He shakes his head and looks away, breaking down, my strong Admiral Lance, the unmovable giant, who feels nothing and lets nothing sway him. He hugs me tightly, his tears drenching my shoulder.