Page 81 of Duke with a Desire

She was a widow who had lost her husband, a struggling mother with scarcely enough funds to feed her children and the servants, and she had endured childbirth twice. Yet, she had not wept in as long as she could recall.

But Ophelia cried now for all she had lost. For the man who could never be hers.

She fell to her knees on the hard plank floor just inside the door she had walked through the night before with such hope and desire. And when the sobs finally subsided, she walked upstairs, washed her face, and dressed herself with wooden motions and as much haste as she could manage.

Then she found her own mount in the stables and rode back to the manor house.

She had one more day as a hostess to endure before she could return to London and her children. Catherine and Reggie mattered above all else. Including herself.

She had made the only decision that was available to her.

Even if doing so had broken her heart.

“You look bloody awful,” Mal observed, raising a brow as he took in the glass of whisky dangling from Apollo’s fingers.

“Delightful.” Apollo sent his friend a feral smile that was probably more grimace than anything. “Then I look how I feel.”

Which was, specifically, like death. As if a part of him had died. The best part of him. Because that was what Phee was. She was the morning sun, the first warmth after a harsh winter, a summer rose blossom. She was everything that was good.

But she didn’t think he was worth fighting for.

It was a novel sensation, one he had only experienced once in his lifetime—being thrown over. In this instance, not for another man, but for the sake of her children. And the worst of it was, he couldn’t fault Phee for wanting to protect them. It was indeed her duty as a mother, and he admired her devotion to her Reggie and Catherine. If she had chosen to never again play hostess at a Wicked Dukes Society house party, along with refusing to see him again, Apollo could have understood. But she had been clear about her decision, and she fully intended to carry on with her hostess duties.

Just not with him. He was apparently a risk that wasn’t worth the reward.

“A bit early for tippling, don’t you think?” Mal asked. “The ball has only just gone underway.”

“Seems an excellent distraction,” he drawled, trying not to think about Phee.

And failing.

He was furious with her.

He was desperately in love with her.

His life was naught but sheer misery.

“Is this ball not sufficient distraction itself?” Mal asked. “Have to love a good masque. Excellent theme for a farewell ball, don’t you think?”

His friend’s tone was lighthearted, but Apollo wasn’t in the mood to feign manners. He was feeling beastly, and he damned well wanted everyone to know. He’d spent the morning riding until he had reluctantly returned to a luncheon that had already been underway. Instead of interrupting the proceedings, he had retired to his room. With a bottle of whisky, of course.

“I think that I don’t give a goddamn about this ball,” he announced cheerfully before taking another sip of the spirits that had dulled his senses but had done nothing to erase the last few days from his mind.

Nothing could. They were forever inked upon his soul.

“Right,” Mal said, sounding uncertain.

Apollo couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the dance floor, where masked revelers moved together in a lusty reel. Bodices were indecent, hands were roving, and some of the couples had already retreated to rooms reserved for the purpose of pleasure—those who liked to give, receive, and watch.

Thank God Ophelia hadn’t disappeared with any of the bastards who had partnered her thus far this evening. If she had, he might have rushed forth, roaring like a lion, and torn the man daring to touch her apart with his bare hands. Even if it was no longer his right.

She had decided their understanding was at an end.

“Your assignation didn’t proceed as planned, then?” Mal prodded.

Apollo heaved a sigh, wondering why he had tortured himself by attending this bloody stupid ball. No, that wasn’t true at all. He did know why he was here. It was because he had been desperate for a glimpse of her, and because he had been buoyed by the stupid hope that Phee would change her mind.

She hadn’t changed her mind.