Page 110 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"You'd be surprised, Your Grace, how many can when the child isn't their own or of their class."
It was a more pointed observation than Mary usually made, and it reminded Ophelia that everyone in this house, from the duke to the scullery maid, was playing a role, maintaining appearances, hiding their true thoughts behind proper behavior.
After Mary left, Ophelia sat at her writing desk, staring at blank paper. She'd started a dozen letters to her brothers since they'd left but finished none. What could she say? That theywere right about everything? That Alexander was exactly the cold aristocrat they'd accused him of being? Except he wasn't, not entirely. He was the man who'd forgiven the Wheelers' debt, who'd spent the night with solicitors trying to find her a way out of this marriage and that was more complex than what her brothers thought.
She dipped her pen in ink and began:
Dear Charles and Edward, I hope this letter finds you well and that you arrived home safely. I want to apologise again for the incident in the gallery. The destruction of those artifacts was inexcusable, regardless of the circumstances that led to it. You were right about some things and wrong about others. I am changing, but perhaps not disappearing as you feared. I'm learning that there's more than one way to be a duchess, and I'm trying to find my way.
She paused, considering how much to tell them about the morning's events, about Alexander's late-night legal consultation, about the growing divide between her and her husband that seemed to widen with every attempt to bridge it.
Today I helped a family in need, and the village is responding with more kindness than I expected. It seems that even in a duke's domain, compassion can flourish if given the chance. Alexander is complicated; not the villain you think him, but not the husband I hoped for either. We are finding our way slowly, difficultly, and often painfully.
Another pause. Should she tell them about the solicitors? About Alexander's search for "options"? No, that would only fuel their anger and might bring them charging back to "rescue" her.
Please don't worry about me. I'm stronger than I appear, and I'm learning to navigate this new world. Give my love to Mother and Father, and tell Henry that I appreciate the book he sent me as a gift. Your loving sister, Ophelia
She sealed the letter before she could second-guess herself, then wrote another to Mr. Granger, authorizing him to send any medical bills for Lucy directly to her personal accounts. Alexander might control the estate, but her pin money was hers to spend as she chose.
As she was finishing this second letter, she heard voices in the hall; Alexander's and another man's. The solicitors again? She moved closer to the door, listening.
"...documentation is all in order, Your Grace. The provisions are quite clear."
"And there's no way to challenge them?"
"Not without invalidating the entire will, which would mean..."
"Losing everything. Yes, I understand."
"The other matter we discussed, Your Grace. About the settlements and provisions for Her Grace..."
"Not now. We'll discuss that later."
Footsteps retreated, and Ophelia pressed her hand to her mouth. Settlements and provisions for her? Was he planning to set her aside with some sort of financial arrangement? Pay her to disappear?
She returned to her desk and pulled out fresh paper. If Alexander was making plans for her future without her knowledge, she needed to make some of her own. She began a list of the villagers' needs James had mentioned, things she could help with using her own resources. If she was going to be set aside, she'd at least make her time as duchess count for something.
The afternoon passed in strange stillness, the house feeling like it was holding its breath. Alexander didn't appear for luncheon, and Ophelia ate alone in her rooms, the elaborate meal tasting like ash. She could hear activity below; carriagescoming and going, voices in Alexander's study, the business of whatever legal maneuvering he was orchestrating.
Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, she couldn't stand the uncertainty anymore. She made her way to Alexander's study, knocking firmly before entering without waiting for permission.
He was alone, standing by the window with a glass of brandy, looking older than his years in the dying light.
"We need to talk," she said.
"Yes," he agreed, not turning around. "We do."
"What are you planning, Alexander? What were those solicitors really here about?"
He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Then, still facing the window, he said, "I was trying to find a way to protect you."
"Protect me? From what?"
"From me. From this life. From becoming something you're not."
"That's not your decision to make."
"Isn't it? I'm your husband. Your protection is my responsibility."
