Page 109 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"Please."
"His Grace has been alone for a very long time. Not just unmarried, but truly alone. He's forgotten how to let people close, how to trust, how to be anything other than the Duke. You're asking him to remember how to be Alexander, and that's... difficult for him."
"And in the meantime, he's asking me to forget how to be Ophelia and become only the Duchess."
"Perhaps, Your Grace, the answer isn't for either of you to forget or remember, but to find a way to be both."
Before Ophelia could respond, James appeared, looking flustered. "Your Grace, there's been a development in the village. About the Wheelers."
Ophelia's heart clenched. "Is Lucy worse?"
"No, Your Grace. But the news of what you did has spread, and there's a... gathering."
"A gathering?"
"People are coming to the cottage, Your Grace. With food, medicine, offers of help. They're saying the Duchess has shown them what true nobility means."
Ophelia felt tears threaten again, but this time they weren't from frustration or hurt. "They are?"
"Yes, Your Grace. And there's more. Several other families have come forward, asking if you might hear their troubles. Nothing as serious as the Wheelers, but... difficulties."
"His Grace won't approve," Ophelia said automatically.
"Perhaps His Grace doesn't need to know everything that happens in the village," Mrs. Morrison suggested carefully. "A duchess has her own sphere of influence, after all."
Ophelia looked between the housekeeper and footman, seeing something she hadn't expected; alliance, or at least the possibility of it.
"I need to think," she said. "This is all... I need to think."
She retreated to her rooms, her mind racing. The villagers were responding to her kindness, seeking her help, seeing her as separate from Alexander's cold authority. It was what she'd wanted, wasn't it? To be useful, to matter, to make a difference?
But it was also exactly what Alexander feared; that she was building a power base, creating divided loyalty, undermining his authority. If she continued helping the villagers independently, it would drive the wedge between them deeper.
Through her window, she could see Alexander in the garden below, walking alone among the formal beds. Even from this distance, she could see the weight he carried in the set of his shoulders, the isolation that wrapped around him like armor.
Her brothers had been right about one thing...she was disappearing. But they'd been wrong about another; Alexanderwasn't the villain of this story. He was just as trapped as she was, perhaps more so because his cage was of his own making, built from duty and tradition and the fear of feeling too much.
The question was whether two people in cages could find a way to free each other, or whether they'd simply rattle the bars until they both broke.
Chapter Twenty-One
A knock at her door interrupted her brooding. "Come in."
It was Mary, carrying a tea tray and looking concerned. "Your Grace, I thought you might need some refreshment after this morning's... activities."
"Thank you, Mary." Ophelia accepted the tea gratefully, then noticed Mary hovering uncertainly. "What is it?"
"It's just... the village, Your Grace. My cousin lives there, and she says everyone's talking about what you did. How you saved little Lucy, stood up to His Grace, showed real charity."
"I didn't stand up to His Grace. He agreed to forgive the debt."
"But only after you forced his hand, Your Grace. That's what they're saying—that you made him see sense, made him remember his duty to his tenants."
"That's not what happened at all. His Grace was already planning to help; I just acted first."
Mary looked skeptical but didn't argue. "Either way, Your Grace, people are saying you're different. Not like the cold duchesses before. They're saying you care."
"Of course I care. How could anyone not care about a dying child?"
