Page 13 of An Accidental Bride for the Duke
When she was finished, she returned to her room and then… well, she sat on the end of her bed. She had no books. No writing material. She enjoyed stitchwork but wasn’t sure if the materials existed in this home for her to do such a thing. She liked to ride. She enjoyed long walks. She had even considered learning an instrument, possibly a new language, anything to expand her world and bring some sense of entertainment into her life. Alas, none of this was possible. Not here, in any case.
What followed was the longest day of Iris’ life.
In truth, she could not even say what she did exactly. She started with exploring the manor, but that did not last long. The western wing of the manor was where her room was located, and mostly it was comprised of similar bedrooms, nothing to excite or entertain.
The central wing of the manor contained the breakfast and dining room, the main drawing room, a large hall for parties and gatherings, and a reading room, even if there were no books. Her husband’s office was on the top floor of this area and at one point she found herself standing down from it, staring at the closed door, knowing him to be inside and avoiding her.
The eastern wing of the manor was another story entirely.
“His Grace asked that I inform you that he would prefer you not venture down there,” Mr. Tibbitt told her when he found her approaching the wing.
“He did?” she blinked with confusion. “When?”
“Yesterday evening,” he said with a friendly smile. “It is nothing exciting, I can assure you. Apart from His Grace’s personal bedroom, it is just a few empty rooms and not much else. Not worth the bother.”
She furrowed her brow and looked toward the eastern wing. It began with a large foyer, at the center of which was a staircase climbing to the second floor. There were several hallways, snaking further into the wing.Why does he want to keep me out of there…
Was she braver, was she more stubborn, she might have ignored the butler’s advice and ventured forth regardless. But it felt wrong to do, and she was reminded that this was not her home. Likely, it never would be.
“Fine,” she said, turning away from the wing. “I suppose it can wait…” She skulked away, her stomach twisting and her sense of loneliness mounting. A most depressing start to her married life.
After that, she chose to venture outside, skirting the property, but she was careful not to go too far as she did not know this area well.
At times she wondered if her husband might appear suddenly. The home was not so big and surely he heard her footsteps wandering the halls. Surely, his mind had turned to her at one point so that he must have considered asking if she needed help with anything, checking that she was settling in. But he was a ghost, locked away in his office, too busy and disinterested to come and see her.
The only thing that gave Iris hope was the promise of supper.
Philip might not have wanted to spend time with her. He might have been determined to make it clear that he wanted as little to do with her as was possible. But even he had to eat. And even he would realize that where they would not spend time together, the mere act of sitting down and sharing a meal each night wouldn’t be too much to ask.
For that reason, Iris hung onto her determination as the day drew to a close. She bathed early. She spent an hour getting ready. She worked through the coming supper in her mind, dedicated to not speaking out or doing anything that might upset her husband.
He needs to understand that he can spend time with me without it leading to anything. No fighting. No efforts at growing closer. Nothing more than a meal shared between husband and wife.
But even that was too much to ask for.
Iris sat alone at the supper table. She was facing the doorway, glaring at it, eyes narrowing and pulse quickening with anger as each minute passed. And where the day had started with positive affirmations, they were quickly wilting like flowers kept from sunlight.
“Are you ready to eat, Your Grace?” Mr. Tibbitt asked her for the tenth time. “The kitchen staff…”
“Not until my husband joins me,” she said. “Do you know when he will be?”
“Ah…” Mr. Tibbitt grimaced. “His Grace often eats in his office. He likes to work as he dines.”
She scoffed. “Does he now? And I am sure that my being here has nothing to do with it.”
“Not at all, Your Grace. His Grace is… he is a private man, please do not take his actions personally.”
“I will do more than that!”
Iris did not want to upset Philip. She did not want this to be a marriage where she and he fought constantly, reduced to hating one another because every time they spoke it turned into an argument. But she reasoned too that this would be better than the alternative. At least that way he would be forced to acknowledge her existence!
What was more, she could not help but remember the previous day in the carriage. The one time they had truly spoken, brought about because she had caused Philip to rise to anger. Is that what she needed to do again? If for no other reason than to coax him out of his shell?
Iris could not say what she wanted exactly. What she could say was what she did not want. She did not want to be ignored. She did not want to live in a state of loneliness. And she certainly did not want to despise her husband from today until her last. For that reason alone, she knew what she needed to do.
“I will be back.” She rose from the table and strode across the room.
“Your Grace!” Mr. Tibbitt called after her. “Where are you?—”
