Page 32 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
Lydia couldn't contain her surprise and delight. Her worry about her neglect on their wedding night vanished, and she reached out and took his hand.
“Thank you, Michael,” she said. “I can’t tell you what this means to me.”
For a moment, Michael looked as though he was going to pull away from her. He gave her a tense smile, but he patted her hand gently before softly releasing it from his own.
“It is my pleasure,” he said. “And if there is anything else you will need, please just let me know. It is yours, Lydia.”
Lydia gave him a sheepish look. She knew one other thing she would need, especially if she was to not worry Michael with her every decision and step forward with the school. But she didn’t want to press her luck.
“Might I invite my friends, Mary and Bryony to stay with us while we work on the project?” she asked.
“Of course, you may,” he replied with another smile. “You are the Duchess, after all. You may proceed as you wish.”
Lydia beamed up at her husband. She couldn’t believe her luck. What had started out as the most horrifying morning of her life had quickly turned into one of the best. She desperately wished that she could kiss her husband on the lips. But she could sense that he was still tensed up. So, instead, she stepped forward slowly, standing on tiptoe and kissing him softly on the cheek.
“Thank you so very much, Michael,” she said. “I shall go start writing letters and making lists of things that will need to be done.”
Michael blushed furiously, but he gave her another small smile.
“I am honoured to be able to do this for you,” he said softly.
Happy as a lark, Lydia left the study to write letters inviting her friends to join her. Her heart swelled with newfound warmth towards her husband. She was certain now that she could love him, and she eagerly anticipated their next evening together in their chambers, hopeful for a chance to truly connect as husband and wife.
Chapter Eighteen
Michael went to sit at his desk in the study, his fingers drumming nervously against the polished wood. The echo of Lydia's footsteps down the hallway had barely faded before he found himself in a whirlwind of thoughts. He couldn't shake the image of her standing before him, looking so ravishing in her green morning gown that he felt a pang of regret over the events of the previous night. He hadn't been able to meet her eyes, afraid that she might see the guilt that gnawed at him like a worm in the core of an apple.
He had been terrified when she entered the room, wondering what she was going to say. Would she confront him about his failure to consummate their marriage? He supposed she would have had every right to do so. However, as the man of the marriage, she was expected to be obedient to him. He shuddered at that thought. He didn’t know the first thing about demanding obedience from a wife. And besides, Lydia seemed more than pleased to defer to him before acting, and to do anything he asked.
But it hardly mattered then, anyway. Lydia had astonished him, apologizing for falling asleep on their wedding night with her sweet, gentle voice. His heart raced in panic, and in a desperate attempt to save face, he pretended that was the reason he hadn't disturbed her. But now that she had gone, he felt terrible remorse for having lied to her. He had felt in the moment that was a proper response. But thinking back on the situation, he wished he had told her the truth. Lydia had exited his study as happy as could be. But at what cost?
Now, the guilt he first felt when he awakened in his study was intensifying by the minute. He poured himself a small drink, cursing himself all the while. How would he ever get himself out of the hole he seemed to be digging for himself right then? If there was one thing he knew about his wife, it was that she was very clever. He had envisioned, before Lydia found him in his study, that she would come in, questioning him about all his motives after missing their wedding night. He knew that if any woman was smart enough to understand something was amiss with it all, it was her. He had worked himself up into a frenzy, and he thought he would have done just about anything to evade such a line of questioning. However, he did think that it would involve him escaping out the window of his study and running away from the estate.
But then, his wife had given him another way out of the uncomfortable conversation that he was desperately trying to avoid. When Lydia had shared her plans about opening a school on the estate, relief had washed over him. He was more than willing to agree to just about anything if it meant keeping her occupied and away from asking too many questions. Besides, he owed her that much, at least. He had tricked her into this marriage, and now he felt the weight of that decision on his shoulders.
You bought her, and now you bribe her,his inner voice tormented him. He smacked his hand on his desk in an effort to silence the voice. He was not bribing her. He was simply giving her something that clearly made her very happy. And yet, no matter how many times he told himself that, he knew deep down it wasn’t true. He could say that he would want to grant such permission for a wife if he had married her for more honorable intentions.
He couldn't help but admire her ambitions, though. Lydia's eyes had shone with excitement as she spoke of her dreams, and Michael realized he genuinely liked seeing her that way – happy, passionate, and full of life. She was beautiful and charming, the sort of wife any man would be proud to call his own. A wife who deserved a proper, loving husband. But how could he be that husband when the very foundation of their marriage was built upon deceit?
Michael's chest tightened at the thought, a heavy stone of remorse settling in his heart. He had traded Lydia's life for a pottery vase – a beautiful artifact, to be sure, but one that paled in comparison to the vibrant, intelligent woman he now called his wife. He tried to imagine a scenario where he could confess his actions to Lydia without her becoming furious with him. But truthfully, he didn’t think he could have stomached marrying her if she was the kind of woman who would readily accept such a nonsense explanation. It was the fact that she was smart and clever, and very confident in herself and her dreams that had made him feel drawn to her. That, of course, in tandem with her incredible beauty. But if those things were true, then why could he not go to her the previous night?
He sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands. It would take more than an agreement to let her open a school to make up for his transgressions. He knew that he needed to find a way to atone for his actions, to be the husband that Lydia truly deserved. He didn’t know the first thing about how to succeed in doing that. A big part of him felt like any man who could do such a thing in the first place didn’t deserve a woman like Lydia. Even if she did forgive him, he would always know what he had done. He began to regret marrying her. But only because he had done it in such an underhanded, foolish way.
He began pacing again, clenching his hands behind his back as he did so. Lydia was happy for the moment. Perhaps, even for a couple of days. But sooner or later, she would notice if he never came to her at night. And eventually, she would start asking the questions that he had narrowly avoided that day. He knew that the more time he spent with her, the more opportunities she would get to ask him such questions. But he also knew that he would need to try to spend more time with her to delay the time when she did begin to wonder about his actions.
But for now, he would support her dreams and give her the freedom to pursue her passions. Perhaps, in time, Michael could learn to be the loving husband that she deserved and find a way to reconcile the past with the hope of a brighter future.
He rose from the desk, heading to the door to call for Patterson. He flung the door open, starting when he found the butler standing just outside the door.
“Did you need me, milord?” he asked.
Michael gasped to catch his breath, nodding.
“Can you arrange to have tea brought here to the study?” he asked.
The butler nodded, looking bemused.
“Of course,” he said, bowing. “Do you need anything else?”
