“Of course you are,” Seraphina declared, even as she blinked furiously to hold back the tears that shone in her own eyes. “But I digress. The fact of the matter is, the duke looked every bit as miserable as you. And then he said something completely unexpected, something that made me believe his heart was well and truly entangled.”
She should not ask. Bronwyn knew that as well as she knew her own face in the mirror. She did not want to hear her friend’s ridiculous reasoning as to why she thought Ash might love her. If it gave her any kind of hope, it would crush her.
Even so, she found herself whispering, “What did he say?”
“He said the reason he had to leave was because he was thinking only of you.”
Bronwyn’s heart sank, the small bit of hope that had managed to come to the surface pulled once more beneath the waters of despair that had been her constant companion for nearly a week. “That means nothing,” she rasped. “He was merely referring to our bargain that he leave after a fortnight.”
But her friend was not deterred. “No,” she said, her frustration palpable. “You’re not understanding. Damn, maybe I’m not remembering right. Let me think.” She closed her eyes tight, pressing her fingers to her temples.
But Bronwyn had heard enough. “I have to go,” she managed, standing and making her way to the door.
“Wait!” Seraphina cried. “I remember now. He said that he was trying for once in his life to not be selfish, that everything he is doing is for you, that if he was thinking only of himself, he would stay with you and make a life with you. He said you deserve so much better than him.”
The hope returned, so powerful she stumbled.It doesn’t mean a thing. They were mere words, said in the heat of the moment. He was just defending himself from Seraphina.
And yet…
“Bronwyn?”
Her friend’s voice, hesitant and uncertain, reached her. Dragging in a deep breath, knowing that if she turned around and looked her in the eye she would break down, she said as firmly as she could manage, “You misread the situation, Seraphina. Now, I really must get back to the girls.”
Before her friend could respond, she was out the door and down the stairs as fast as she could manage. But no matter how quickly she ran, she could never escape the pain that small spark of hope had brought to life.
Chapter 21
There was one thing, and one thing only, that Bronwyn could comprehend on the drive back to Caulnedy: she had to forget everything Seraphina had said to her about Ash. If she did not, it would destroy her.
Of course, the one thing that had always comforted her when she was in distress had been her research. She would throw herself into her work. There were enough insects on Synne to keep her busy for the remainder of her life. First and foremost, however, she was determined to finally send her paper off to the Royal Society, to have that chapter of her life over and done with, to move forward onto something new that was not remotely connected to Ash in any way.
Which is what she would have done as soon as she arrived home and made her way to the library and the desk where her packet lay—if she had not spied a carefully folded letter atop the packet. Her name was scrawled across the front in sharp, angular writing. And though she had never had cause to see his correspondence before, she knew in a moment who had left it there for her to find.
Ash.
Hands shaking, she reached for the letter, carefully breaking the wax seal and unfolding the parchment. The letter was short, and simple. But it had that small spark of hope from earlier transforming into a flame.
My dearest Bronwyn,
I know you have been reluctant to send this paper in to the Royal Society. But please do not squander your talents. They are much too important to remain hidden. You are gifted, and the world cannot fail to appreciate your contributions to science.
Yrs,
Ash
And below, in a hesitant scrawl:If you have need of anything at all, please let me know. I am here for you. Always.
She stared at the letter for what felt hours, reading the carefully penned lines over and over until her eyes blurred and the words jumbled together. She had forgotten how his support of her had made her feel, the deep sense of acceptance it had given her. He had never failed to show her, in word and deed, that he believed in her. Even after their fight, even after he had left them, he had still made certain to encourage her and show his belief in her by leaving her this letter.
Once more Seraphina’s words came back to her:I have reason to believe your husband cares for you much more than he ever let on.
Ah, God, what if he truly did love her as much as she loved him?
In the next moment she was striding out of the room as if she could outrun the optimistic cadence that was singing through her. Even if he somehow did care for her, it didn’t matter. If he had wanted to make this marriage real, he would have stayed. And he had not. He had adhered to their original agreement, leaving when the fortnight was over. And he would not be coming back.
So focused was she on beating reason into her head, she did not immediately see where she had wandered to. When she finally did look up, she saw she was in the portrait gallery.
She had not been here since that first day, when Mrs. Wheeler had given her a tour of Caulnedy. Then she had been a new bride, uncertain of her place. Now, married not even three weeks, it nevertheless felt as if it were a lifetime ago, and that she was a completely different person from the one she had been then.