Page 18 of Mad Duke March

He turned around and… froze.

Before him stood his vision.

The woman he’d noticed in the stands before.

She stood tall and straight like a lance. Like she always did. Her green eyes glinted with unshed tears, giving her face a look of perpetual sadness. Like they always did.

So fucking familiar, it hurt.

“Xander,” she said in her low and gentle voice. Just as he remembered it. And that lovely sound was like a punch in the gut.

She slowly approached him, and as she did, he could see her more clearly. She had barely changed. Sure, there was gray in her hair, her face lacked the roundness of youth, and laugh lines were prominent in the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. Laugh lines.

He had barely seen her laugh. He didn’t even remember the sound.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he barked.

Those familiar eyes fell closed for a moment, and she inhaled deeply. “I came to see you.”

“Then you wasted your time.” His throat was so dry he had to clear it.

She wrung her hands. “I thought we could start anew.”

He let out a bitter laugh, his head giving a sharp ache. He ignored it. The ache in his heart overshadowed any other ailments. “Are you in half-mourning?” He tipped his head toward her gown. “Playing a grieving widow, are we?”

“A grieving mother,” she corrected softly.

Tyrone scoffed. “A mother? Is that what you call yourself? You haven’t been a mother for decades. Not since you left us… Left me. Alone with him.”

“You were his heir.” She took a step forward, her hand outstretched.

A few years ago, he would have given anything to take her hand, to rub his face against her soft palm. If only she’d come a few years earlier.

“I couldn’t take you with me,” she continued. “He would have come for us. He would have killed me.”

Tyrone nodded. “Right. So you left me behind to gain your freedom. Well, the freedom is yours.”

“I couldn’t come earlier. You know that!” she cried. “But I came for you now. The moment I heard of his death—”

“I don’t need you here,” he snapped. “I needed you when he was alive. When he was beating me half to death if I did anything wrong. Or even if I did something right. If I reminded him of you.” His voice broke on the last word, and she reared back as if he’d slapped her. “I don’t need you now. You’re nothing to me.”

“I am still a duchess,” she said in a shaking whisper. “Even if you don’t need me, the dukedom does. It needs a mistress.”

There was a long pause as he watched his mother standing before him like an apparition. But she was real. Flesh and blood.

And she had come here to assume her rightful place as the duchess.

When she’d left, his heart had grown cold until it turned to ice. Now, he thought he felt it thaw. Or perhaps it was just a reminder that it could still hurt. He could still be hurt.

He turned away and mumbled under his breath, “Not for long.”

“This is the last of it,” Harriet said as she brought a small trunk downstairs. “Sophie is helping Reggie gather his things, but our chamber is all gathered up and ready.”

“Good.” Emily nodded and looked around the tiny cottage. She wouldn’t miss it, but she was loath to leave so soon.

When they were getting ready to leave for London, she had promised her sisters the world, a brighter future. And now, they were running away with their tails tucked between their legs.

She’d received a letter this morning from Sutton. Failing to secure her a husband, he was willing to take her in as a companion for his wife. It was not a perfect arrangement, but a lot better than nothing.