His silence must’ve annoyed Kit because his friend huffed. “Will you tell me why you are just letting her go? And why are you packing?”
Open trunks were half-full on the bedroom floor. Harrison placed a stack of collar boxes into one of them. “I’m leaving for Paris.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.” He hadn’t been able to book passage sooner, otherwise he’d be halfway across the Atlantic by now.
“Have you considered that your wife might merely require time to cool down? That perhaps you are hastily running away—again?”
“I haven’t, actually. Rather, I think I should’ve ruined the Archers from Paris and never returned to New York. Coming here was a mistake, and I am rectifying that.”
“What do you plan to do, go back to your old life and pretend this never happened?”
“That is precisely what I intend to do. I’ve already cabled Esmée and told her to expect me in a week.”
“Jesus Christ, Harrison.” Kit dropped onto the bed and put his head in his hands. “You cannot be serious.”
He shrugged and opened the crate of Kentucky bourbon he’d bought. Wrapping one of the bottles carefully, he placed it in a trunk, then reached for another bottle. “The marriage never happened. It’ll be wiped off the books, nothing but a faint memory for both of us. She’s free to become a duchess or a countess or whatever dashed title she desires.”
In fact, he’d decided to help that cause along by paying a call this afternoon. Perhaps he could right one wrong before he left this country for good.
“Are you taking that entire case on the boat?” Kit gestured toward the bottles.
“Yes.” His plan was to get stinking drunk as America faded in the distance, and then stay stinking drunk the entire journey. At least until he could forget her for any serious length of time.
“What about Archer Industries? What about this house? You are leaving all of it behind?”
None of it mattered without Maddie. “I’ve turned everything over to my—to Stephen Webster. He’s more than capable of handling it in my absence.”
“I see.” Kit walked around the room and peered inside the trunks. “Were you going to say goodbye, at least?”
“I figured you’d try to talk me out of it. For the record, Preston has already tried and failed.”
“He told me. Said you were more stubborn than a union boss at the negotiation table. What am I supposed to tell her?”
Harrison didn’t honestly think Maddie would bother asking after him. She could return to the way things were, back to her plans and parties. Enjoy her perfect world without him mucking it up like he did everything else. “I’ve already told her what she needed to know.” That he was sorry, that he loved her.
That she was all that had ever mattered to him.
“For what it’s worth, I think you are making a mistake.”
“Well, I’ve never done anything right, so why would I start now?”
Kit made a scoffing sound in his throat. “Do not let that Archer childhood nonsense into your brain. It’s entirely unhelpful.”
“Just like you are able to block the Ward childhood nonsense?” Kit’s family was no better than the Archers. In some ways, they were worse. There was a reason the two of them became inseparable in college; each man had demons from his youth that refused to let up.
“Touché,” Kit said. “I suppose all that’s left to say is that I’ll miss you. I was looking forward to having you around again.”
“You’re welcome to visit. It’ll be just like it was before. Debauchery at every turn, with more available women than you could ever screw.”
“Harrison.” Kit paused as if choosing his words carefully. “Nothing will go back to the way it was before. This is not a small thing, losing Maddie. I hope you realize as much.”
“You forget that I lost her once before. This will be no different.”
“But you weren’t married. You hadn’t slept with her or—”
“Stop trying to be helpful,” Harrison snarled, dragging his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Kit. Just . . . Christ almighty, stop talking.”
His friend’s expression went blank, devoid of any emotion. “I’ll leave you to your packing, then. I’ve said enough.”
Guilt swept across Harrison’s skin like needles. “I know you are trying to help, but please stop.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. “Good travels, then. Enjoy Paris and Esmée. Drop a line once in a while, will you? Let us know you’re still alive.” Kit walked out, the sound of his retreating footsteps ringing out in the emptiness.
The guilt didn’t ease up, but Harrison pushed it all from his mind. Today, he had to finish packing and pay one visit. Then he could leave for Paris in the morning and forget every minute of his time in New York.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
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.”