Leo arrived with Isabelle in London a week after Clara had left.

After it had felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

He knew that Clara's hurt would've been a lot more than his and the notion of causing her such agony made him feel like a first rate ass.

He had tried his best to concoct a plan. A week later, he realised that he did not have the talent for such things. But he'd thought that the least he could do was to bring Isabelle with him.

The first thing he did was to drop Isabelle at the Fethuerington townhouse because she was more than eager to see Clara. He knew his wife would not want to see his sorry face then. But he couldn't deprive Isabelle the pleasure of meeting Clara.

He was currently squatting like a toad trying to hide behind a bush like a thief waiting for Isabelle to go inside the house.

The door opened and he saw Isabelle speak. And then, it seemed like Clara came out running and knelt on the door step clutching Isabelle to her bosom as if her life depended on it. His little girl hugged her back and he felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

He was the reason they'd been separated even if it was for a week.

Once Isabelle was inside, Leo decided to take a walk to his town house, it wasn't very far anyway and it would give him some time to think. Looking at Clara again had made him realise how very important this was.

He couldn't mess up. Not this time.

He wanted his wife back in his life and he'd do everything he could to win her back.

Clara was so relieved when she finally held Isabelle close to her.

Her baby.

She knew her husband wasn't far.

It had taken him a week to get here?

She had no intention of going back or forgiving him.

She didn't know how long she had with Isabelle, but she decided not to think about anything then and just enjoy her daughter's presence.

Clara's parents were delighted to meet Isabelle and she was basking in their attention. She also fell in love with Adonis.

"He's so chubby," she said, pulling on his jowls while he just sat there panting, too uninterested to protest.

"You do remember about tonight's ball, do you not Clara?" her mother asked.

"Yes mother, but I'm going to stay at home with Isabelle today."

Her mother huffed, clearly disapproving of Clara's attachment to Isabelle.

"But this is your first ball since you got married, it's important. What will the Duke think when he hears of this?" she insisted.

Her parents thought that the Duke had sent Clara to London so she could enjoy the season a bit since she'd missed most of it due to their speedy marriage.

"I do not wish to argue, mother. Besides, it's just tonight. I shall attend the next ball, surely."

"You're a duchess now, why would you listen to me?" her mother stormed out.

Clara knew she'd come around.

Later that evening.

Clara's parents had left for the ball, leaving her alone with Isabelle.

They'd chatted for a while and then Isabelle had fallen asleep in her arms. She'd laid her in her room and gone to library for some reading.

Just as she settled down, the butler announced that the Duke had come calling.

Wonderful.

She honestly wasn't ready to face him now after the humiliation she'd felt.

She told him she wasn't receiving.

A few movement later, she heard them arguing.

She sighed, getting up. She didn't want the daft man to wake Isabelle up.

"You may enter," she called.

"Clara," he whispered as he pushed her poor butler out of the way and stood at the doorway of the library. The same library where he'd kissed her so passionately that it had burned itself into Clara's memory.

They just stood there, staring into each other's eyes.

His eyes were as hot as fire with his emotions written all over his face and hers were as cold as ice.

She was done being vulnerable.

Leo stood there, staring at his wife's face. It seemed like he was looking at a stranger.

Gone was her easy and open smile. Gone was the light in her eyes. Gone was the happiness that she always radiated.

It seemed like his wife was gone.

And in her place, stood a cold hearted woman who held herself like she was a queen. That she was, the queen of his heart.

But he hated looking at her like this. He hated seeing what he'd done to her.

This couldn't be permanent, could it?

And then she spoke. Her tone just as cool as her eyes.

"Why are you here, your Grace?"

"To take my wife back."

"She isn't yours to take."

"Of course you are," he raised his voice, frustrated.

"Legally, yes. But that can be easily remedied."

"The hell it can!"

He swallowed as he took in her meaning. Would she really annul their marriage?

Did it really mean so little to her?

"There's no reason to shout. My daughter is asleep. I'll thank you for keeping it down," she said.

Daughter.

He dropped on his knees before her.

"She's our daughter, Clara."

She just stood there, not looking at him. Just staring at the wall behind him.

"I love you," he whispered.

That got her attention. But only for a moment.

It had seemed like some emotion had passed in her eyes, but it was gone before he could read it.

"Say something.."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"I know I hurt you, my love. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner. I wanted to, I assure you.. but I didn't know how to win you back.."

She held up her hand.

"You seem to be deluded, your Grace, to think that you have the power to hurt me. I assure you, I'm completely fine. Now I request you to remove yourself from my library. The hour grows late."

He stood up, feeling utterly helpless for the first time since he was a child.

He walked up to her and hugged her.

But she stood there like a stone.

It sent a shiver of despair through his body.

"I'll see you soon, I know you'll forgive me. I know I'll see you again," he repeated himself like a baboon.

"I hope not," she said and waited for him to get the hell out of there.

Leo showed himself out then, unable to control his feelings.

He'd shored up his courage and come here hoping to woo her back with apologies and words of love and meaning every single thing he said like the heroes of her novels.

But when he'd seen her standing there like a lifeless statue, the fight had gone out of him.

He felt empty. He could feel darkness consuming him, the same darkness that had been his constant companion for most of his life, darkness that demanded to be fed with whiskey.

Who was he to deny it anything?

The moment the Duke stepped outside her house, Clara's knees gave out.

She sat on the floor, holding her legs to her chest, rocking herself as all the tears she'd held in poured out.

She didn't know how she'd kept up the facade of not being affecting by anything he'd said.

He'd said he loved her. Could he have meant it?

No.

He was a monster, monsters couldn't love.

He just wanted her to come back so he could cause her more agony.

She had to be strong.