Page 74 of The Replacement Duchess

“Yes, you do. We all know why we do the things that we do, and you know exactly why you did it. Do not lie to me.”

“I simply wanted to do something nice for you.”

Silence fell over them for a moment, with Colin not believing her at all, and then she spoke again.

“That is not true,” she continued. “I wanted to spite you. I wanted a place that could be mine and mine alone, and I was angry with you, and I wanted to do something for myself, but I also wanted to prove to you that I would not bow to you.”

“I cannot speak to you for the moment,” he said gently. “I will be in my study. I will be ready to speak with you soon, and if not, then we can discuss the matter tomorrow, but right now I need to go and think.”

“Very well,” she replied, not even attempting to argue with him, “I will give you all of the time that you need.”

She walked away, and he was about to go to his study when he caught sight of a lamp. He had never seen it before—so it was an addition that Diana had made, but it once had a deer head on the wall above it. He had always hated it. It made him uncomfortable to the extent that he had not wanted to be in there at all, and now that it was gone, the room almost seemed inviting.

Then he saw the open book on the desk, the one that he had left there years before, and that was the last thing he needed before he could no longer hold back. He stepped inside, feeling as though he was being watched, and seated himself and began to read the book. For some reason, Diana had not moved it, but he was glad that she had not. There was no need to find where he had stopped reading, as it was already there for him.

Samantha was not the only one that had grown weary, it appeared, as the next thing Colin knew, he was gently being nudged awake. It was Diana who had approached him gingerly and was looking at him with wide eyes.

“I understand that you do not wish to see me right now,” she whispered, “but you cannot sleep here. It is not good for you.”

“You are wrong,” he replied, still partly asleep.

“I am not,” she said, rather confused. “Everyone knows that sleeping at a desk is a bad idea. You would be far better off going to sleep in your bed.”

“No, I mean that you are wrong about me not wanting to see you. I do. I very much do.”

“But I have made you angry. That is why you wanted me to go.”

“I wanted you to go so that I could think. I was not angry, I was simply confused, and shocked. Now that I have looked at it, and sat here and read, I can see that this is truly a blessing. I always adored this room, you know.”

“You wouldn’t know from the way you have been acting about it.”

“No, and I ought to apologize for that. I did not mean to be standoffish, but it is the only way I know how to be about this room. It has been a source of pain for me for years now. I also want you to know that the way you have acted cannot happen again. I do not want you acting out of spite if ever I cannot tell you something.”

“And I regret what I did, which is why I have told you rather than hoping you never opened the door, but you shutting yourself off is not something that I can tolerate, not when you do not tell me why.”

Colin laughed gently, and she stared at him for a moment before finally joining him.

“We are dreadful at this, aren’t we?” she asked.

“Most terrible indeed,” he sighed. “Although when one looks at the examples that have been set for us, it is no surprise. It is a miracle that we are trying to be different at all.”

“Perhaps that is the real reason why I never saw myself marrying. I couldn’t fathom a place where I could communicate when something was wrong, because I have never been allowed to, and now I do not know how.”

“Then perhaps we might learn together? We can learn to be patient with one another, and to respect each other, and to be more open. I truly think we could do it, so long as we both wish to.”

“And I most certainly do. It has been tormenting me that you have been… not angry but something like that with me.”

“And I do not wish to feel that way anymore. I also do not wish to put you in a position where you feel as though the only way to make me listen is to make it worse.”

“In which case—and you can tell me no if you wish and I shall respect it, but we also agreed to no more lies and no more secrets—why did you not want to tell me what happened here?”

“In truth, it is because I do not need your pity.”

“Then I will not pity you,” she promised. “But you can tell me what happened whenever you are ready.”

She turned to leave, but he took her wrist gently so she would turn back.

“I am ready,” he said, before taking a deep breath. “My father… He was not the sort of man I told you he was.”

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