The knock startled Maddie. She’d been standing at her bedchamber windows and staring off into the gardens. Dusk had fallen, shadows lengthening with the approach of nighttime, the time of day she dreaded the most.
It was when thoughts of Harrison took hold in her mind and wouldn’t let go. Every conversation, every moment reenacted and replayed on an extended loop until she thought she’d crumble. It hurt to think she’d never have that again, that he was out of her life forever.
If you want perfection, then you’ll never find it because no one is perfect—not even you.
Nellie was wrong. This wasn’t about expecting perfection. This was about her life and having a partner by her side, not a husband who lied and took away her choices.
She didn’t regret her decision in asking for the annulment. Separating was the best course of action for them both. What other choice did they have when their paths were so completely different? They could never be happy together, not as a couple.
Her gaze swung to the annulment papers sitting on her dressing table. They’d arrived while she was in Philadelphia, with his signature already in place. All that was left was for her to sign and return the document to the lawyers. Then their marriage would be over.
So why couldn’t she bring herself to do it?
The knock came again. “Maddie.” It was her mother.
“Come in.”
Mama’s worried face appeared in the doorway. “You have a visitor, my dear. Shall I send him away?”
Maddie’s breath caught. Had Harrison come to talk? She wasn’t certain whether she wanted to see him.
Something must’ve shown on her face because her mother quickly added, “It’s the Duke of Lockwood.”
Lockwood was here to see her? Goodness, whatever for?
Though she was hardly dressed for visitors, she supposed she owed Lockwood an audience after all the aggravation she’d caused him. “I’ll come down.”
“Perhaps brush your hair first,” her mother suggested gently.
Maddie resisted the urge to roll her eyes and settled for a rueful half smile instead. “Mama, I humiliated the man. Publicly. Trust me, he won’t care that my hair is a mess.”
“Still, he is a duke, Madeline.”
She kissed her mother’s cheek on the way out the door. “Don’t worry. It’s safe to say that my chance at becoming his duchess has passed.”
The receiving room door was ajar, so Maddie slipped inside. Dressed in a fine navy-blue suit, Lockwood peered at the knickknacks on the mantel. She closed the door behind her. Lord knew there was no need to protect her reputation any longer. “Your Grace, this is a surprise.”
“Mrs. Archer.” He bowed.
She curtsied, a pang going through her as she realized the name wouldn’t apply much longer. Soon, she’d return to Miss Webster. “Shall we sit?”
Nodding, he waited for her to settle on the sofa before relaxing in an armchair. “Forgive the late intrusion. I know you’ve only just returned from Philadelphia. How did you fare in your tournament?”
“I lost in the third round.” It still rankled. The woman hadn’t been a better player. If Maddie had played smarter, paid better attention during the match, she would have won.
“That is remarkable for your first time at such a prestigious event, is it not?”
“Undoubtedly, I’ll come to see it that way in a few days. Right now, the loss merely smarts.”
Lockwood studied her. “I understand that isn’t all you lost.”
Her tongue thickened as she wondered what to say. Had Lockwood heard about the annulment? That seemed impossible. “Forgive me, but I don’t follow.”
The duke crossed his long legs and leaned back. He appeared annoyingly comfortable in his own skin. “I had an interesting visit earlier this evening. From your husband.”
Harrison had gone to see Lockwood?
Maddie fought to remain still. “Oh?”
“He’s informed me that the two of you are separating.”
Embarrassment skated along her nape, down her sternum. No use denying it, she supposed, seeing as how Harrison had oh-so-helpfully spread the word. “We are filing for an annulment, which I assume will be granted expeditiously.”
“I have to say, I am surprised.” Lockwood’s gaze narrowed on her. “I thought the two of you were a perfect match when I saw you together at the house party.”
“Friendship does not always translate into a marriage,” she said vaguely. The details of why it hadn’t worked were no one else’s concern.
“True, but there was a spark as well, wasn’t there?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. This was quite an odd conversation to have with one’s former fiancé. “Yes, I suppose there was,” she finally said.
“Which is why I found the reason for your husband’s visit tonight both annoying and perplexing.”
“The reason?”
His brown gaze glittered in the gaslight. “He has encouraged me to court you again. First, he apologized for compromising you—for which he took the entirety of the blame, by the way—and then tried to tell me how disappointed you were when our betrothal came to an end.”
Her face slackened, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the news. How could Harrison have done this? He was manipulating her life once more without telling her. It was both humiliating and utterly absurd. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing to say. Even if you hadn’t married Harrison, I would have severed the engagement once the two of you were discovered together. It was the only honorable thing to do.”
“Of course,” she mumbled, wishing the sofa would open up and swallow her whole.
“Your husband tried to convince me the whole episode was a fever dream, that everyone would soon forget you’d even been married. Then he said you and I belonged together.”
Oh, my God. A fever dream? That hurt more than she would’ve thought possible. What was Harrison thinking? He was trying to reconcile her with the duke, but to what end? Was he so anxious to be rid of her? “I am terribly sorry, Your Grace. This is embarrassing, to say the least.”
“I can see that you weren’t expecting this. Neither was I, to be honest.”
“I certainly did not put him up to it, if that’s what you were wondering.”
“I never thought you did. What I do think is that this is your husband’s attempt—albeit a clumsy one—at turning back the clock. Setting everything as it was before he arrived and wreaked havoc on our lives.”
That actually made sense, in a strange way, especially when she recalled her very public campaign to become a duchess. Yet there was no erasing this from their minds. Too much had happened to ever forget. She gave the duke a sad smile. “Only we cannot go backward in time.”
“Indeed, we cannot. I may not have funds, Mrs. Archer, but I do have my pride.”
“Of course. I hope you may forgive me one day.”
“I hold no ill will toward you or your husband. I think what he is attempting to do is again clumsy, but sweet in a roundabout way. He wants to see you happy and is willing to sacrifice his future with you to make it happen. Believe me, it killed him to pay me a call.” His lips twitched with secret mirth. “And I did not make it easy on him.”
She could only imagine how uncomfortable that meeting had been. “I hope he apologized to you.”
The duke dipped his chin. “He did, and threw in future shares of Archer Industries, as well.”
Men. They solved everything with their fists or their wallets. “I’m happy to hear it.”
Lockwood sat forward. “Before I go, I have two requests.”
“Of course. I am in your debt.”
“First, seek out your husband before he sails for Paris in the morning.”
Maddie paused, her lungs unable to function, while her mind turned over the news. Harrison was leaving? Had he planned to let her know or say goodbye? What about the business?
Lockwood cleared his throat delicately. “I apologize if you hadn’t been told. I assumed . . .”
“Don’t worry. Someone would have shared the news eventually.”
“Undoubtedly, but it seems especially cruel to hear it from me. Nevertheless, the man clearly adores you.”
Maddie didn’t know what to say, her head spinning with all she’d learned. It must have killed Harrison to call on Lockwood with the intention of reconciling her with the duke. Yet he’d done it, trying to undo some of the perceived damage he’d caused. But she didn’t want Lockwood.
God help her, she still missed Harrison.
When the duke quieted, she prompted, “And the second request?”
Lockwood stood and pulled his cuffs, straightening them. “I’d be grateful—and this is for both of you, really—if you would lose my direction. As delightful as this experience has been, I’d rather not find myself in the middle of my ex-fiancée’s marital squabbles again at any point in the future.”
Cheeks hot with mortification, she rose. “Of course, and please accept my apologies.”
Ever polite, the duke inclined his head. “I shall be on my way, then, and leave you to your evening.”
“I’ll show you to the door.”
They walked out into the entryway, where he found his top hat and cane. Then he faced her, his expression kind but solemn. “For what it’s worth, I assume every marriage is bound to take some knocks in the beginning. Who knows? You may have arrived in England and hated it.” He placed his hat on his head and reached for the door. “I wish you every happiness, Mrs. Archer.”
“And you as well, Your Grace.”
He strolled out into the night, disappearing into a closed carriage, while Maddie shut the door and pondered his words. Had she reacted hastily in asking for the separation? Nellie had said as much earlier, too. Indeed, there had been good days amid the bad in her marriage, but how could she ever trust Harrison not to lie to her again?
Unbelievable that he went to see Lockwood in the first place, but asking the duke to court her once more was downright shocking. Was Harrison so eager to see her paired off with another man? Furthermore, the thought of him sailing back to Paris and probably straight to Esmée made her want to stab him with a hat pin.
He wants to see you happy and is willing to sacrifice his future with you to make it happen.
If that were true, she could almost forgive his high-handedness. Almost. Still, she wasn’t certain he was ready to be a partner, not a dictator. Could she ever trust him not to hurt her again?
Standing at the steamship’s railing, Harrison stared out at the miles of blue ocean, while the waves bounced off the hull and misted his skin. He hardly felt it. He hadn’t felt much of anything, really, since leaving Philadelphia.
New York was behind him now. More than half a day’s journey existed between him and everything he’d lost, and he was forever stuck inside a prison of his own making, a hell he’d designed with his machinations and stupidity.
Turned out Kit had been right. This wasn’t like before; it was much worse. He’d had a small taste of happiness, true happiness, with her, and it had been stripped away. The rest of his life stretched out before him much like this ocean, cold and empty, the prospect more dismal than he could bear. So he had to clear his mind and lock down his emotions, think of nothing. Be nothing.
Bourbon certainly helped, he thought as he lifted a silver flask to his lips. Other vices awaited in Paris, ones that could also help him forget, like absinthe and women. Perhaps he’d try the sweet oblivion of the opium pipe. Who cared anymore?
He didn’t want to remember her. Ever. He left word for Preston and Kit not to visit for several years, needing a clean break. Sort of like cutting off an arm. It was the only manner in which he’d survive.
America held nothing for him any longer. The Archers were ruined, so at least he’d succeeded there. He finished the bourbon in his flask, shaking it to release the remaining drops onto his tongue. There were eleven more bottles packed in his trunks, more than enough to last the week-long journey, which meant he needed to return to his cabin for more spirits.
“Pardon me,” a female voice said. “Aren’t you Mr. Harrison Archer?”
Christ, could he not escape high society for one damn minute? I shouldn’t have traveled in first class. These decks were like a floating Delmonico’s, Central Park promenade and the Knickerbocker Club all rolled into one.
Turning, he found an older woman, likely mid-thirties, staring at him from under her parasol. Her gaze held something akin to either curiosity or attraction, but the alcohol had dulled his ability to focus. Probably a gossip, for which he had no patience, or someone looking for a roll in the sheets with a younger man, in which case he had no interest.
Clutching his empty flask, he gave a shake of his head. “No. You’re mistaken.”
“We met at the Paris Opera last year. I’m certain it was you.”
“You’re wrong. I’m no one.”
Another voice came from behind him. “He’s my husband.”
Harrison looked over his shoulder and blinked. She was here.
Maddie was here.
He had to be hallucinating. Dropping his flask to the deck, he reached out to steady himself with the railing. Was this real?
Dimly, he heard the older woman say, “Then I hope you take better care of him. He looks terrible.” He assumed she walked away after that, but he only had eyes for Maddie.
Maddie was on the boat.
Wait, how? Rubbing his eyes, he lost his balance a touch. Suddenly, she was there beside him, her fingers wrapped around his arm. “Please move away from the railing. You’re starting to scare me, Harrison.”
“Am I dreaming?”
“No, you’re not. You are, however, drunk, and I don’t want you toppling over the side.”
“You don’t?”
She began towing him toward the first-class cabins. “Of course not. Come with me, please. Let’s get some coffee in you.”
He still didn’t understand. “Why?”
“Because I wish to talk and it would be nice if you remembered what I said.”
Talk? He stopped in his tracks, his body refusing to go an inch farther. “Why?”
She wore an exasperated smile, the one she used to give him every time he suggested some silly idea. “May we go inside and have this conversation in private? I recognize no fewer than six people on deck, and no doubt they are eagerly hoping to overhear us. Please, Harrison.” She dragged him along and his feet followed eagerly, as they always did when she was in the vicinity.
He couldn’t keep away from her, even when she’d asked to separate.
Wait, what was this about? “Is this regarding the annulment? I won’t fight you,” he said as they entered the corridor leading to the cabins.
“I know. And yes, it’s regarding the annulment.”
His stomach sank, nausea rolling in his belly. There must have been a legal loophole or detail he’d missed, and she’d come to sew it up before moving on without him. So why hadn’t she cabled him instead?
“Because this is a private conversation best had in person and not over the wire,” she answered.
Oh, had he spoken out loud?
Removing a key from her pocket, she unlocked a cabin door, then practically shoved him inside. He stumbled in, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated, shoulders stooped, and he dropped onto a tiny sofa as she closed the door.
She lowered herself into an armchair, unpinned her hat and tossed it onto the side table. Her simple beauty struck him like a fist to the center of his chest, as it always did. He loved looking at her, from the moss green of her eyes to the freckles across her cheeks. The upward turn of her nose and the perfect bow shape of her lips. He struggled to draw air into his lungs, each breath a stark reminder of what he’d never have, his body taunting him with the knowledge that she no longer belonged to him.
He licked his lips. “I already signed the paperwork. Are you here to give me the final copies?”
“I didn’t sign—and I don’t want to.”
“You’d rather divorce?”
“I’d rather stay married, actually. That is, if you can forgive me.”
His heart lurched, restarting as if it had been frozen, hibernating inside his chest. Suddenly, he felt as sober as a judge. “You’ve done nothing that warrants apologizing. I’m the one who is dashed sorry, Mads.”
“I know, but I do owe you an apology. I shouldn’t expect either of us to be perfect. Everyone makes mistakes, myself included. I was just so angry and I felt powerless, but I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. You’ve earned at least that from me in all the years we’ve known each other.”
He said nothing. There weren’t words for what was building in his heart, a sensation terrifyingly close to fragile hope. Speaking might spoil whatever was happening.
She stripped off her gloves. “Do you want a partner, Harrison? An equal? A woman to stand by your side, not linger in the background?”
“Mads, all I’ve ever wanted was to be yours. You can stand beside me or in front of me, even on top of me, as long as you never let me go.”
“Yet you tried to give me to Lockwood like some piece of heirloom china.”
“You wanted to be a duchess. I thought you’d be happy if Lockwood courted you again. I upended your life when I returned, so I tried to undo a little of my damage.”
“That wasn’t necessary. And I participated in said damage, so you cannot assume all the blame.”
“But I rushed you. I pushed and pushed to get what I wanted.”
“True, and you’ve been two steps ahead of me ever since you returned from Paris. I merely needed time to catch up.”
“Have you caught up?”
“I think so, now that the tournament is over and I’ve had time to think.”
“Congratulations, by the way. I am proud of you.”
Her cheeks flushed and her smile grew soft. “I only made it to the quarterfinals.”
“That’s astounding for your first tournament. Just wait until your second year.”
“We’ll see. That is, if my husband doesn’t mind my playing.”
Warmth took root in his belly, heat spreading outward like lightning strikes of pure joy. He sported a grin that had nothing to do with bourbon. “He wouldn’t dare prevent you from chasing a championship, if that’s what you decide.”
“It will require a lot of traveling.”
“He loves hotels and trains.”
“And a lot of standing around in the hot sun.”
“He loves a good sweat in the outdoors.”
“And a lot of liniment rubs and long baths.”
Fuck, he wanted that. Now. He wiggled his fingers. “I’ve heard he has ludicrously strong hands.”
She chuckled. “What a perfect man this is . . .”
That word caused him to frown. “He’s not perfect, Mads, but he loves you more than life itself. And if you’ll forgive him, he’ll spend every day trying to prove it to you.”
“I know and I don’t need perfection. He’s a good man, one who has always watched out for me. My best friend. And I love him madly.”
As if pulled by a string, he sat up, his back straight. “What did you say?”
“I said I love him. I probably always have, only it took me this long to realize it.”
Harrison was out of his chair and kissing her before she finished speaking. Her mouth was lush and welcoming, and he thought he’d never get enough. He poured every bit of his relief and longing into that kiss. “I love you, Mads,” he said when they finally surfaced for air. “It’s always been you for me.”
“I believe you—and I’ve come to realize that I can’t live without you. As soon as I heard you were sailing for Paris, I knew. No matter what else happens, you are stuck with me.”
“Good, because I am never letting you go again. Twice is enough for one lifetime.”
“You won’t need to. No more hiding from me, though. The truth from now on.”
“You have my word. I’ll never keep anything from you again.”
She pressed a kiss to the tip of his chin. “Now, I think we should put you to bed to sleep off all that alcohol.”
“As long as I’m not alone, you can put me wherever you’d like.”
Rising, she took his hand and led him toward the large bed. “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Archer. I definitely have plans for you . . .”
And he followed her, as he always had, to wherever she might lead. Together.