Page 18 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
In truth, and as strange as it was to admit, she had been excited for supper this evening. Where her conversation with the duke earlier was a little awkward, she hoped that with the matter of their arraignment dealt with, tonight might be a chance for them to get to know one another better. If for no other reason than they needed to if this was going to work.
Now, she knew that any preconceived notions she had about the duke were laughable and that he was doing as he had done for the past three years. Ignoring her as if she did not exist.
That would not last. He needed her help, and they would have to spend some time together eventually. But how could they possibly work together as they needed if they couldn’t even be in the same room? And how could they…
A warmth spread through Penelope’s body as her mind turned to where it had been all afternoon. That of the child she wished to have, and what she would need to do with her husband if she was to get it. It was silly, and Penelope could not believe she had not considered it sooner. But if she was to have a child with the duke, they would need …well. She knew what they would need to do. Possibly several times. And that…
It does not repel me as it should. Why not?
She tried to push that thought from her mind. She tried not to imagine what it might be like. He was handsome. He was strong and powerful. And there was something about him, the hidden side that he refused to show, that enticed her…
No! A shake of the head and she refused to go down that path. For now, it was this party which mattered and that was what she must focus on. Assuming the duke ever spoke to her again!
“Your Grace…” Reginald appeared suddenly beside her. “Might I read you through what the kitchen has planned for this evening?”
Penelope looked to the doorway as if expecting her husband to walk through. He did not, of course, and her body slumpedin its seat. Part frustration, part despair… “I suppose so,” she muttered bitterly.
The following morning went much the same. Penelope, arriving at breakfast, wondering if Dorian would be there. Unsurprised to see that he was not. Annoyed when she asked the butler attending her where he was, only to be dismissed.
“I believe he is busy, Your Grace,” the butler answered. She looked at him pointedly, waiting for further explanation. None was forthcoming.
Once finished with breakfast, Penelope did the only thing that she could think to do. She explored the manor, for it would be her home over the following weeks, and she might as well get herself acquainted. Not that this was particularly interesting, as it was a house like any other. Not quite as big as the manor she lived in, but just as empty feeling.
Most strangely, it was when she approached the eastern wing that Reginald appeared again. He came striding down the hallway, moving quickly and with a look of worry on his face.
“Your Grace!” he called to her. “If I might have a word!”
“Good morning, Reginald,” she said with a warm smile. “I am in such a good mood that you can have two words.”
He frowned at the joke. “Thank you, Your Grace. Very kind.”
She waited for him to continue. He looked at her blankly and expectantly. “You wished to speak of something?” she asked eventually.
“Yes, Your Grace. It is not a grave trouble, and I hate to bring this to your attention at such short notice. But His Grace has requested that you stay out of the eastern wing while you are staying here.”
“He… he did?”
“He did, Your Grace. His Grace is a man who appreciates his privacy, and he was quite adamant that I tell you so.”
“So…” She looked past the butler, down the hallway. “His Grace is down there now? What is he doing?”
“Again, Your Grace, His Grace is a man who appreciates his privacy. All he asks is that you not enter the eastern wing while you are staying here.”
She huffed, her anger growing. “He does remember why I am here, yes? The reason which he agreed to. How am I to help him arrange this party if he will not speak to me?”
“I cannot answer that, Your Grace.” Reginald’s smile was kind and forgiving. “But I will speak with His Grace, if you wish it. Perhaps he will be able to inform me of when –”
“Do not bother,” she sighed. “If he wants to speak to me, he can.”
With nothing else for it, Penelope turned and stormed away.
She tried to convince herself that she was not angry.I do not want to give Dorian the satisfaction!But she was slowly reminded of those first few weeks after he had left her, how alone she had felt, how sad and desperate she was for some sense of purpose. Oh sure, she had managed to find it in her social life, meeting with friends, endeavoring not to have her life ended because her husband had left her.
But this felt different. She was in a home that was not her own. Trapped, it felt like, forced to stay here because she had made a promise and would see it through. Or would do… assuming Dorian stopped avoiding her!
The rest of that first day went much the same. She walked the halls alone. She ate alone. She read alone. And every time she heard footsteps, she would look up, hope reaching her… and then crashing to find it was just a member of the staff.
The following day was the same. And the one after that. Dorian was here, she knew that to be true, but he was set on avoiding her such that she was forced to concede that he did not want her help at all.
