Chapter 72
Up to the following morning, unbearable restlessness took root within me, a weight pressing upon my chest with such force that I found myself unable to remain still. Laura's words echoed mercilessly in my mind, tangling with another memory - the first time I had laid eyes upon Millicent in Zalvanica. Try as I might to dispel them, they persisted, clawing their way back each time I dared to think of anything else.
It was only when Helena's face surfaced in my thoughts that I knew I required a distraction. I could not allow myself to be like her. I could not become her.
And so, with determination, I seized Kyle and decided that perhaps a breath of fresh air would quell the storm within me.
"Kyle," I began as our carriage neared the bustling shopping district, my voice lighter than I felt. "Have you ever tried strawberry ice cream?"
It was an innocent question, yet the moment it left my lips, a pang of regret struck me. That flavor had once been my favorite, one Millicent had always indulged me in, purchasing it without fail whenever we passed an ice cream shop.
There she was again, lingering in my thoughts. I shut my eyes briefly, drawing in a slow breath, willing the ache to dissipate.
"Never!" Kyle exclaimed, his enthusiasm genuine.
"Now that we are wealthy, let us treat ourselves," I said, forcing a smile that felt unnatural on my lips.
"Let's go!" he beamed.
I rapped against the window, signaling the coachman. "Take us to the 'For All Cures' ice cream shop, please."
"Yes, Your Ladyship," he answered with a respectful inclined of his head.
The carriage soon pulled to a stop, and just as Kyle was about to leap out, I instinctively grasped his sleeve at the sight before me.
There, at one of the quaint outdoor tables, sat the very woman who had been haunting my every thought. Millicent.
Vincent sat beside her, happily indulging in a dish of ice cream, his laughter ringing through the air. Laura's words resurfaced. That he had been left at the Vaneeri gates. My heart constricted at the thought of Annette's callousness, at the sheer mercilessness of leaving an infant, my son, all alone. My grip upon Kyle's sleeve tightened.
Millicent's golden hair was tied loosely at the nape of her neck, casual yet elegant in its simplicity. She leaned slightly forward, resting her elbow on the table, a warm, fond smile curving her lips as she murmured something to Vincent. He giggled again, his eyes crinkling with joy, and then she chuckled, the sound barely audible over the noise of the street.
My heart pounded violently.
"Oh, that's the duchess!" Kyle exclaimed in recognition, stepping out of the carriage before I could stop him.
No, Kyle, no.
I remained frozen, fingers tightening around my cane as I watched him approach her.
Millicent's smile faltered for a mere moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her gaze before she rose to greet him. She inclined her head slightly in practiced grace, the very image of nobility, her expression smooth, composed.
My heart clenched painfully.
Kyle spoke with his usual cheer, gesturing toward the carriage. Millicent's gaze followed his motion, her eyes meeting mine.
A pause.
Then, a soft smile. Gentle. Respectful. As if nothing had ever transpired between us. As if I were merely another noble passing by. As if she had never touched me, never held me, never once whispered my name in the quiet of night.
The ache in my chest expanded into something unbearable.
She turned back to Kyle, her every movement meticulously composed.
Kyle took a step toward me and called out brightly and loudly that even I could hear, "I'll go get my wife to come meet you!"
Millicent's smile did not waver. She responded to him with the same practiced smile. Then, with a graceful incline of her head, she took Vincent's small hand in hers. Another quiet remark left her lips to Kyle then she turned away.
Vincent, our Vincent, is five this summer. The only child I would likely ever have in my life.
And Millicent, Millicent had grown thin. Just last year, she still bore the strength of the woman I once knew. But now, beneath the elegance, beneath the finely tailored silks and the practiced grace, there was something brittle.
I watched them go, my chest rising and falling in silent agony.
I watched until they disappeared.
My mind drifted back to her last letter. "I know you despise me. I know you wish to cast my existence from your thoughts entirely. Rest assured, I shall not intrude upon your life."
A sharp sting burned at the corners of my eyes. And worse, she believed that I had abandoned our son, abandoned her. A fresh wave of grief crashed over me.