Chapter 84 - Eighty Four
The air in Eric’s study was stale and stuffy. For two days, he had buried himself there, a self-imposed exile from his own residence, from Delia. He was checking the ledgers of the last major shipment they had completed, his eyes scanning the numbers without really seeing them. His mind was elsewhere, stuck in that quiet kitchen, replaying her words over and over again. "I won’t be here for long, anyway."
A knock came on the door, but Eric didn’t look up from the meaningless columns of figures. "Come in," he said, his voice flat.
Aiden walked in, a stack of fresh documents in his hand. He looked at his master, at the tired slump of his shoulders and the tired look of his eyes.
"Your Grace," Aiden began, his voice full of a concern that went beyond that of a mere aide. "You have been here for two full days now. Working yourself to death. Why don’t you go home and get some proper rest? I will take care of the rest of the work here."
"I’m not needed there," Eric replied, his voice a low murmur as he continued to stare at the ledger. "She doesn’t need me."
The words were so full of a quiet, deep hurt that Aiden felt bold enough to press further. "Did you two have a fight, Your Grace?"
Eric finally looked up, a short, bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "I wish we did," he said, his eyes looking tired and sad. "I wish she had shouted at me, or I had shouted at her. At least then, I could give a name to this anger and this hurt that I am feeling."
"But Your Grace..." Aiden tried to talk to him, to offer some comfort.
But Eric had already retreated back behind his wall of work. "After my wedding," he said as he stared down at the ledger, his voice now all business again, "I will be the one to handle all the international shipments myself. So you can take care of things here, as usual." He was already planning to be away, to be busy, to not be home.
Aiden sighed, knowing he couldn’t get through to him like this. He played his final card. "The lady sent a letter, Your Grace. She..."