Page 36 of Her Tiger of a Duke
“Are you?” she asked, both surprised and pleased.
“Yes,” he replied, realizing what he had said. “It means that you are married, and Lady Helena has been afforded protection too.”
“How altruistic,” she replied, and he could hear the disappointment in her voice.
Owen refused to believe that she thought of him in the way that she was suggesting, because if she did then he would be at a loss. He had not wanted to form such an attachment, but she had made it too easy. He had been drawn to her from the start, and he knew that was why he married her, rather than finding a way to keep Lady Helena.
“Well,” he said brightly, “now that you know you will not be cast out, might we return home?”
“If that is what you want,” she agreed, her hand slipping from his arm.
CHAPTER 15
It was becoming increasingly clear to Beatrice that she was precisely as her father claimed; unworthy of love and not destined to find it.
It was difficult to show that measure of vulnerability to her husband. While she had anticipated his kindness, for Owen was almost always gentle and generous, she had not expected his compassion and sympathy.. She thought, for a moment, that they might be able to fall for one another, and she would have found love after so many years of thinking she never could but then came the harsh reminder.
He was kind to her out of obligation, and he married her to save face. There was nothing more to it to find, and so she needed to stop looking.
When they returned home, she took herself to her room without waiting for Ella. She looked in the mirror, pulling each pin out from her hair until her deep brown ringlets were freed once more. She studied her face, trying to catch a glimpse of theduchess that she was supposed to be, but it was not there. All that she could see was a lost girl that was not quite one thing and not quite another, not even her father’s daughter.
It should have moved her to tears, and she could not work out why it was not. All it made her feel was an immense sense of injustice, and when she looked at herself again, she saw a determined scowl. She smiled at herself, a plan already forming in her mind. It was later in the day than she would have liked, but she had time to begin.
Taking some paper and a quill, along with an inkpot, she made her way through each room of the house. She noted everything that she disliked, organizing it all by room, and did not stop to speak to anyone, not even Mrs. Forsythe, who began following her after they nearly collided.
“May I help you, Your Grace?”
“No, I can do this, thank you,” she replied, walking on.
“But I know the places to go for the replacements.”
“And you are welcome to do that with me, but for the moment I only wish to decide on what to change. My husband has said that I can do as I please, and I intend to.”
“Very well. Will you… will you be going into every part of the house?”
“Not as yet, only the ones that my friends shall see. I want them to be comfortable here, and this will not do. I cannot settle any longer, Mrs. Forsythe.”
She did not sound half as desperate as she felt, and she was pleased about that. Something inside of her had broken, and she no longer wished to sit to the side and accept what was given to her. She did not like her surroundings as much as she knew that she could, and so she would change them. Then, she would decide what to do with her husband.
Her first change was that she wanted to put some color into her home. The furnishings were expensive, but when she looked at the household she could not see any of Owen’s personality within it. It was a house, and she wanted to make it a home.
“I want the drawing room to be pale blue,” she said aloud as Mrs. Forsythe continued to follow her. “It is a calming color, I rather think.”
“Indeed, it is. Might I ask you something in particular about it?”
“Of course.”
“Might you wish to replace the pianoforte?”
Beatrice looked at it sitting in the corner. It was clean, free of dust, but it was also worn. Beatrice had never played it and decided that she played little enough that it would not make a difference as long as it worked. She pressed a key, and no soundcame out. Pressing another, it made an discordant note that caused her to shudder.
“I see what you mean,” she agreed. “Yes, a new one will be necessary. I would hate for one of my friends to try to play it and have that happen.”
She slowed, knowing that her housekeeper was the most valuable asset she had. It was for the best that she listened and took her advice, although she still intended to have her voice heard.
They moved on to the morning room. It was, as with all the other rooms, neat but dull, draped in heavy green damask that swallowed any light that came in.
“It is too gloomy,” Beatrice said, looking around. “I should like to replace the curtains with something lighter. The colors must change too, for the room will be dark no matter how much we try to light it.”
