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“That is all I can give.” His voice was tight, but she told herself there was more belief. Yet, as she had once forced herself to know, hope was a foolish thing, at least with him.

Eloise hesitated, waiting for an apology, though she knew she was not owed one.

So she cleared her voice and smoothed down her skirts. “Then we are agreed, are we not?” Her voice was as firm as his. “We are a convenient marriage, it seems.”

“Eloise—”

“No.” Her tone was sharp, a whip she did not mean to wield. “Do not make this harder. I—I am coming to terms myself with wanting children, wanting to raise them in a warmer, more loving environment than I had growing up. I understand what we agreed, but we have surpassed such formal agreements, and I now cannot wait years or months for you. Not on the hope that you may or may not change your mind. I have waited long enough for my future, Dorian. I⁠—”

She caught herself before she said something too much. “I respect you, and what we have, but I cannot keep waiting.”

Her eyes stung with tears as she stood up, but Dorian beat her to it.

“No.” He held her wrist for a moment. His head shook. “I cannot promise you a future I cannot guarantee, but you should not have to leave. You hate London, but I can withstand it for business. So, stay. Let yourself relax here, please. I will not force you out of another home.”

“But—”

“Eloise, my mind is made up. We have reached a point where we are struggling to have peace. I will not force you to endure a life you do not want, nor can I meet your own wishes yet.”

“So that is it?” Eloise asked. “We are to part?”

“It would be for the best,” he murmured but his voice cracked. He went to walk away, but Eloise caught his hand, pulling him back around.

“Dorian,” she said, her voice soft, “what do you truly think of… this happening with us?”

He shook his head, but she held him tighter.

“You do not wish to know.”

“If I did not, I would not have asked.”

Working his jaw, annoyed at himself, Dorian finally answered: “What I think is that my life was easier when I did not have to take a wife, when I was simply a man, living alone.”

Eloise’s face cracked, a splinter in her fierce composure.

“When I did not risk hurting anyone,” Dorian finished, before yanking his hand free and walking away from her.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dorian had packed his belongings by the end of the day, hauling himself into a carriage to return to London.

Eloise watched him leave, her heart breaking.

They had not parted for a lack of wanting one another, but for the lack of certainty for their shared future, and she thought that was what hurt most of all. They had just begun something together, and now it was ruined. She had no idea how to fix it.

She felt selfish, staying in the mansion while Dorian left for London, but mostly she missed him even as he rode away. Already, she wanted him back, even as she knew they needed space.

She pulled away from the window.

She didn’t have to hurt herself further.

“Your Grace.” Mrs. Hale caught her attention. Eloise turned. “Pickle is crying for you in the garden.”

“I will go to him.” Her voice was thin, not quite present, but she wanted her dog. If anything, she could wrap her arms around him and hold him. “Thank you.”

“And His Grace has left a note for you. He says to have your peace and space, and that he will come back the moment you ask.”

Eloise nodded, her teeth clenched. “I think I will take Pickle on a walk.”