Page 56 of The Duke's Return
Julian stewed for a minute. “I’m not running. I have a duty to the crown.”
“What about the duty to your wife? You made promises to God, Julian. And you cannot possibly claim you’re not running away when you’re clearly halfway out the door already. What are you doing?”
It was then Julian realized he didn’t have an answer to that very simple question. He couldn’t have one. It wouldn’t make sense, and it was too dangerous. Dealing with the truth didn’t sit well with his loose tongue.
Besides, the truth is terrifying, and I don’t want to think about it.
CHAPTER 22
“Mrs. Waverly, if I were to strangle somebody, do you think I would be hung in turn?” Genevieve asked when the housekeeper paused in the doorway of the drawing room to see what she was doing.
It wasn’t as though she was doing very much. The drawing room was just ideal for pacing. There were three short paths to take through the room, all surrounded by soft furniture that could be tossed about without breaking anything. Additionally, it was on the shaded portion of the house where the lighting was softer, and the household was less likely to be worried about her upsetting any of the furniture.
Tilting her head to study her, the housekeeper responded in a mild tone, “I cannot imagine it would go well. Still, one never knows. Should I be asking if there’s a particular room that needs cleaning, Your Grace?”
There was a gentle scolding in that tone that Genevieve could hear. Her heavy pacing slowed down from a stomp as she caught her breath. Perhaps she should have gone outside after all, but the drizzle wasn’t to her liking at the moment.
How can I say such things? Just after she’s complimented me dearly in front of our guest, she has to deal with a murderous duchess. Oh, I am losing myself.
She forced a deep breath and set down the round pillow she’d been squeezing in her hands. “No cleaning. I’m afraid I’m merely… a little overwhelmed.”
“Yes, husbands can have that effect on women.”
Seeing the housekeeper’s flat expression suddenly reminded Genevieve that she was supposed to be proving a strong and committed relationship to her husband, not the opposite. The blood drained from her face. Heart pounding now for another reason, she slumped onto the nearest sofa and dropped her face in her hands.
“Don’t mind me; I must not be myself today,” she muttered. She couldn’t look anyone in the eye saying this. “I care for the duke. He is my husband. We are…” But the words wouldn’t come to her.
Quiet footsteps crossed the room. “Never you mind that, Your Grace. No matter the title or not, men have always been fools. It’s the women that keep the world running in nearly every form. And what is love without a few complications? If I didn’t see the two of you disagreeing at some point, I might not be convinced you truly cared for one another.”
Jerking her head up, Genevieve stared at her. “You trust our relationship because I’m upset right now? But what if he’s right?”
“Oh, he isn’t,” Mrs. Waverly replied with a knowing gaze. “I meant what I said earlier. You’re a very fine lady, Your Grace, and the household trusts you. Accomplishing that in less than amonth is no small feat. His Grace was more than fortunate to have your hand. But it doesn’t always mean he deserves it.”
The words slowly settled on Genevieve’s shoulders. She compared this to her mother’s words of wisdom, how she had always taught her four daughters to behave with smiles to the world and to scheme once the backs were turned.
It had taken all of Genevieve’s strength not to follow that path. Except part of her had always been fearful that some of the truth was there, that all a woman could do was obey and accept what she was given.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked quietly, realizing only afterward she couldn’t very well be asking a servant such a heavy question.
Yet Mrs. Waverly had an answer. “When the world tells you a lie, Your Grace, I suggest you correct them. That way, it doesn’t happen again.” Then she offered a wink, straightened her shoulders, and quietly took her leave with a promise to prepare afternoon tea soon.
Once again alone, Genevieve let the woman’s words sit with her for a while. She remained seated for some time to let the ideas flow through and to let her body relax.
It was all she could do to get the memory out of her mind.
He’s been coarse before, and dismissive. But never so cold. Never so rude. Simply because I brought a tray into the room, he treated me like a servant. Worse than a servant, for I have never seen him be cruel to them.
After collecting her thoughts and patiently biding her time through quiet afternoon tea by herself, Genevieve was resolved.This behavior would not be permitted. Especially if her husband wanted her support in managing their family name, then he would have to ensure this never happened again.
Though she practiced her words during tea, she forgot them all within the next hour when she searched about the house for him.
It took some time until she was forced out into the gardens to find Julian seated near the climbing roses as he had picked a fresh bud and toyed with it in his hands. She stopped to stare.
The duke appeared so young with his golden hair curly in the afternoon lighting. It was growing long, but she rather liked that. He was always so very refined and well-dressed, and there was that lovely hair growing out of control.
If she wasn’t careful, Genevieve realized, her thoughts might go out of control as well. Lately it was too easy to lose herself at the sight of him with his charming looks. She had to be more careful.
At least we are alone where no one can find us. But I cannot dawdle forever. Just because he woolgathers doesn’t mean this isn’t an ideal place for us to have a private conversation.
