Page 108 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I can give you right now."
"Because you don't trust me."
"Because I don't trust myself," he said, and the admission seemed to surprise him as much as her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that every decision I make regarding you seems to be wrong. I try to help you adapt, and I stifle you. I try to maintain boundaries, and I isolate you. I try to protect you, and I hurt you. Your brothers were right, I'm destroying you by degrees, and the worst part is I can see it happening and can't seem to stop it."
"Then stop trying to control everything. Stop making unilateral decisions about our lives. Stop meeting with solicitors in secret and start talking to me."
"About what? About how we're fundamentally incompatible? About how this marriage was doomed from thestart? About how we're both trapped in something neither of us wanted and both of us are too proud to admit is killing us?"
The words hung in the air like a confession and a condemnation simultaneously. Ophelia felt tears threatening but refused to let them fall.
"Is that really how you see this? As something that's killing us?"
"Isn't it? Look at us, Ophelia. We can't have a conversation without fighting. We can't make a decision without conflict. We can't even help a sick child without it becoming a battle about authority and compassion and class differences. What kind of marriage is this?"
"A difficult one," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean it's doomed."
"Doesn't it? Tell me honestly...are you happy?"
"No," she said quietly. "But I wasn't happy before either. At least now my unhappiness has purpose."
"What purpose?"
"The Wheelers have their home. Lucy will live. The feud between our families is technically ended. Those aren't small things, Alexander."
"But they're not enough to build a marriage on."
"No," she agreed. "They're not."
They stood there, facing each other across his study, two people who had just admitted their marriage was failing but couldn't seem to find a way to either fix it or end it.
"I should check on the household," Ophelia said finally. "My unexpected departure this morning probably caused some disruption."
"Ophelia..."
"Whatever you're planning with those solicitors, I'd appreciate being informed before you make any final decisions. I may be just a Coleridge, but I deserve that much courtesy."
She left before he could respond, closing the door carefully behind her when what she wanted was to slam it hard enough to shake the portraits off the walls. In the hall, she encountered Mrs. Morrison, who was clearly waiting for her.
"Your Grace, I wanted to say... that is, the staff wanted me to convey... what you did for the Wheelers was very kind."
Ophelia looked at the housekeeper in surprise. "You approve?"
"I think, Your Grace, that this house has perhaps been lacking in kindness for some time. His Grace means well, but he sometimes forgets that rules and tradition must occasionally bend for humanity."
"He thinks I'm undermining his authority."
"You're reminding him he's human, Your Grace. That's different."
"Is it? Because from where I stand, it looks like I'm just causing problems."
Mrs. Morrison hesitated, then said carefully, "If I may be frank, Your Grace?"
