Page 25 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
She is fine with whatever arrangement he wants, but she wants to know how things are to be.
It is very late when she hears his footsteps at her door. Selene freezes. There’s only one reason a man visits his wife at this time of night. He was kind enough to give her last night, she supposes.
Can she pretend to be asleep?
But she wants to speak to him. If she invites him in, at least they can talk. At least she can decipher what sort of marriage this is.
“C-come in,” she says.
Dorian enters. Dark shadows circle his eyes. He looks exhausted. “Ah, good, you’re still up,” he says. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I apologise I’ve been so busy today. Ariella suggested we go into the village tomorrow. I can show you around and we’ll see if we can find a lady’s maid for you.”
“That’s… that’s very kind. Thank you.”
Dorian nods. “Very well. Good night.” He turns to leave.
“That’s it?”
Dorian stops. “That’s what?”
“You’re just going to… go back to your own room?”
He blinks at her as if she’s talking in riddles. “Yes?”
“Don’t you want to…”
He tilts his head. “Do what?”
“Have your… have us…” Selene tries to find a way to put this delicately. “Don’t you want us to perform our marital duties?”
Dorian’s eyes go wide. He looks almost horrified that she’s even suggested it. It occurs to Selene that she doesn’t know his preferences. Perhaps he’s like Lord Greyton and this marriage serves to hide some secret of his. But he doesn’t feel like Lord Greyton to her. Why wouldn’t he want to sleep with his beautiful young wife?
His answer is the last thing she expects.
“Do you?”
Now it is her turn to blink at him, certain she’s misunderstanding something. What does what she wants to do matter—in this regard, at least? Husbands are to provide for their wives. Amongst the nobility, they are to ensure they are treated well, doted on, never to want for anything. In return, wives support their husbands. They run their houses,entertain their friends, and provide them with sex. It’s a role, a task like any other.
“I’m… I’m not sure I understand.”
Dorian smiles sadly, shaking his head. “I have no intention of bedding you against your will,” he tells her.
The Duke never bedded her against her will, either. He’d moan and sigh and groan that other women wanted him whenever she declined, but he never pushed further than that. He seemed to think he deserved some reward for that restraint, and sometimes—sometimes—Selene started to think that maybe he did, too. It’s a natural thing for men to want from their wives. Maybe hewasbeing kind. Maybe she was the one in the wrong.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe she doesn’t have to be that girl anymore.
Yet, although there were many times she didn’t want to perform for the Duke, there were times she quite enjoyed it. There was something nice about flesh on flesh, about making someone happy, about how they seemed closer, afterwards. Sometimes they’d sit and talk or drink and watch the moon, and conversation flowed easily between them.
It wasn’t all horrible. There was a reason she liked him, once.
She could probably like Dorian the same way. Maybe. Perhaps. If they got a chance to know each other better. It might never be the great love that the poets speak about, but she thinks that she could grow fond of him.
Whether or not he fully understands what he’s saved her from, hehasrescued her. He’s asked no intrusive questions. He pulled all sorts of strings to save her from her parents’ house.
