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He slept in minute increments huddled on the sofa where he’d deflowered her, with the curtains pulled closed, in darkness.

I could force her to return, came a selfish, pathetic thought. She broke the terms of our marriage and left me before the year was over.

Mrs. Knight had told him she was back at her parents’ home. He could go and fetch her and threaten her with the terms of their agreement. Either she would come back, or he wouldn’t give her parents the estate and the income he’d promised.

But no. He’d taken so much from her already. He wouldn’t take her freedom to choose. She had every right to leave him. She should have done it long ago.

He couldn’t bear looking at the garden. And her roses, which were now in full bloom, looking more and more beautiful every day. Resilient and breathtaking, their pink petals reminded him, so painfully, of Patience’s lips, the color of her nipples, and of her sweet sex.

Lucien and the dukes came to visit and were appalled at the state of him. They tried to convince him to come to Elysium. Perhaps now he would find solace in Lilith’s arms. Or, if not, drinking and playing cards would take his mind off of things. He threw a chair at them.

Mrs. Knight and the footmen watched everything with their usual cold observation.

Not a word of judgment was spoken.

They quietly cleaned and tidied the mess he left behind him. A carpenter came to take measurements for the new window in his bedchamber.

The only rooms in the house that still had furniture were Patience’s rooms and his mama’s sitting room. He hadn’t bathed. He didn’t remember if he’d eaten anything. If he drank anything, it was brandy.

Now, he lay curled on the sofa, his body aching inside and out, covered in cuts and bruises.

Not bothering to knock, Mrs. Knight strode into the sitting room. She put a tray bearing toast, butter, and coffee on the tea table.

His eyes burned when she went to the windows and mercilessly shoved the curtains apart.

The sunshine, just like on that day when Patience had changed him forever, flooded the room, and he covered his face with his hands.

“Perhaps a walk outside,” she said. “If you’ll forgive my impertinence.”

Through the window, he stared at the roses. Vibrant. Glorious. Resilient.

Patience’s triumph.

His weakness.

God, what would he do to have her back? She’d return for her roses, would she not? But not for him, surely? Of course not. Not for her brother’s murderer.

“No,” he said.

His head was exploding.

“There’s no more furniture or things to break in the house, Your Grace,” said Mrs. Knight. “Perhaps a ride on Erebus, then. He hasn’t been ridden for over a week now.”

He couldn’t imagine allowing himself any pleasure. He had to be punished for what he’d done, and riding, swimming, being in the fresh air would bring him pleasure.

“Leave me,” he growled. “Take the food away. Bring more brandy.”

Mrs. Knight stiffened, her eyes full of concern. “Your Grace, I’m speaking out of place, but⁠—”

“You are.” He shot to his feet. He didn’t deserve anyone’s concern, let alone this woman’s who had been looking after him and his family for years. “Leave.”

“But—”

“I will not repeat myself!” he roared, hating himself for raising his voice to her. She didn’t deserve this. But he didn’t know how else to send her away. “One more word and you will be sacked!”

Mrs. Knight’s eyes clouded with hurt and she left him, picking up the tray on her way out.

He put his hands on the curtains to shut them when his eyes fell on the garden again.