He Told Her She Was Replaceable Over Breakfast—By Lunch She Had Packed. By Dinner He Was at Her Door

He had said it without thinking. That was the worst of it. Not cruelty — carelessness. The particular carelessness of a man who had never once considered that the woman across the breakfast table was paying attention to every word. She was always paying attention. By the time he returned from his ride, her writing things were gone from the morning room. By luncheon, her chair was empty. By mid-afternoon, the housekeeper informed him, with the careful neutrality of a woman who had opinions she had not been asked for, that Her Grace had departed. He stood in the entrance hall for a long time. Then he called for his horse. She had not turned around when she heard him at the door. She stood on the drive in her travelling pelisse and waited to find out what kind of man he intended to be about this. He knocked. He waited. He knocked again.