Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

“ W hat are you doing?” Hector boomed, his voice cutting through the silence as everyone hurried out of the room.

Juliet straightened and dusted off her hands on her skirts. “I was merely helping,” she said with an unmistakable streak of defiance.

Hector’s eyebrows furrowed in irritation. “Helping? That is hardly your place. Do I need to make it clear you are not to involve yourself in the staff’s duties? Do I need to remind you that you are my wife? You are the Duchess of Islington.”

Juliet met his gaze. “Do I need to remind you that I am not merely a decorative statue? If I see a need, I address it.”

Hector’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Is that so? You are quite the rebel. You seem to believe that you are free to overrule my authority.”

Juliet’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Hardly. I simply believe in making myself useful. After all, I am to remain here for the foreseeable future, am I not? It seems more practical to help where I can, rather than sit idly by.”

Hector shook his head, not bothering to hide his frustration. “Then go and occupy yourself with a book or some other worthy pursuit. You said it yourself, you find the library quite…what was the word again?”

Juliet scoffed, crossing her arms. “I suppose I am only to eat, read, and sleep like some ornamental doll. Which, I assure you, I am not.”

“That would be an improvement,” Hector muttered under his breath. “I know this is all strange to you, given that St. Catherine’s lost not only its respectability but also its authority figures. As such, you may have forgotten what it means to respect rules, but I will not be tolerant of your insolence for much longer.”

“What?” Juliet gasped as she staggered back away from him. “How dare you…”

“If my wife, the Duchess of Islington, would behave accordingly, I would not have to resort to such base remarks,” Hector hissed. “You would do well to remember your place, Juliet. This is my house, first and foremost. My voice is the only one of power here, and my orders are absolute. You cannot march around instructing changes without consulting me first. You will cease the undermining of my authority or else there will be consequences.”

“All this fuss over some minor changes I made to the estate? I see that you are upset, but it appears as though you are less concerned about the fact that I went forth to alter the house without consulting you than with the issue that I dared to act on my own. You refuse to give me the time of day, and yet, when I wish to put my time to effective use, you find fault with it.” she said, her voice full of indignation.

Hector’s expression hardened. “I do not care for whatever ideas you might possess that have been spurred by your boredom,” he said with a glare. “You would do well to remember who holds the higher power here.”

Juliet could barely contain her anger. “This is not about my alleged disrespect, Hector. You could have simply told me if you were bothered by my actions. This display of rage is about you feeling threatened because I refuse to play the role of the meek, obedient wife. I will not sit idly by while you attempt to dictate every aspect of my life .”

“Threatened?” Hector’s voice rose with incredulity. “You think I feel threatened by you? I am trying to maintain order and keep up the standards of my household.”

Juliet stepped closer, her voice low yet assertive. “You may be used to everyone around you bowing and scuttling, but I will not be one of them. I am your wife, not your servant.”

“And yet, you’re acting like one.”

Juliet’s eyes blazed with fury, but she kept her voice steely. “If doing what needs to be done makes me a servant in your eyes, then so be it. But you will not dare to diminish me with your narrow views.”

Their eyes locked in battle.

“You appear hellbent on undermining me.” Hector ran his hand through his hair. “Moving this and that. At this rate, I will not recognize my own home any longer.”

“You mean our home?” countered Juliet, refusing to back down. “I did ask that the drawing room be rearranged. But what about the nursery you are…”

Hector’s gaze was drawn to her luscious lips.

Beneath his frustration were emotions that he wasn’t ready to examine. He admired her bravery and enjoyed her feisty spirit, but it also terrified him because she made him feel things he was not sure he could control. He had to maintain some control.

“Don’t push it, wife.”

“Perhaps it’s time you reconsidered what it means to be a husband,” she said quietly, “because I won’t be a wife who is merely seen and not heard.”

Hector stared at her even as her words sank in. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. But then, the walls he had built around himself began to crack just a little.

“Juliet,” he said somewhat breathlessly, “is that what you want? Is that what this is all about? You want to claim me as your husband?”

“That…that was not what I…You are…” Juliet sputtered, looking baffled and flustered.

“If you merely wanted some attention from me, all you had to do was ask. Turning my house upside down is unnecessary.” Hector allowed himself to smirk at her discomfort.

Juliet stared at him as though he had grown two heads then nodded and appeared slightly more at ease.

“This has less to do with my supposed wants and more to do with what you desire. You are the one who is fond of picking fights over the littlest things, and now, you want me to report my every move to you before I take them. If you wanted to see me more often, all you needed to do was say so, husband,” she smiled innocently.

Juliet looked so enchanting in that moment. In an instant, the mood between them lightened into something gentler. Hector stopped himself as his hand twitched to reach out to her.

“Your Grace?” Worthington knocked on the door quietly. “The business papers you requested have arrived.”

“Ah, yes,” Hector cleared his throat and took a step back, thankful for the interruption as he tried to regain his composure. “I shall head to my study right away.”

“Hector…” Juliet began as she extended her hand towards him.

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Duchess.” Hector nodded in her direction then walked out of the room.

“I did not know that someone could be so stubborn,” Hector grumbled distractedly as he turned the page and Juliet’s voice continued to echo in his ears.

He had retreated to the library in the hope of finding some relief in a book, but peace eluded him.

Hector was unclear about his true feelings for his new wife and what he was so bothered about. His attempts to exile thoughts of her had been futile.

“Why can’t she just…” he muttered, letting the unfinished thought hang in the air.

Juliet was nothing like other women he had encountered. Those women were docile, compliant, and willing to cater to his every whim, but Juliet was nothing like them.

She was fiery, passionate, and unapologetically herself. She infuriated him because he had never been in a position where he did not have the upper hand. The situation left him immensely frustrated.

Overcome by his restlessness he snapped the book shut and left the library, desperate for some air. He needed to rid himself of the bothersome notions that dredged up memories of the only woman he had ever known to stand up against a man in her life.

Mother.

Hector’s hand tightened into a fist as he remembered the night his world had irreversibly changed. He had been young and had no concept of how cruel his father was until he had walked in on him as he rained blows upon his mother.

The cold detachment in his father’s eyes as he struck her and the tearful pleas of his mother still haunted him.

I am nothing like him.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the vision. He refused to be compared to his father. However, during each of his heated exchanges with Juliet, he feared that he was slipping further into his abusive father’s shoes.

Worthington straightened as Hector made his way down the hall.

“Fetch my coat, and have the carriage readied.”

Hector knew that the peace he desired wouldn’t come to him as long as he remained within the confines of Islington Hall. He needed a few hours away to clear his head.

“Where to, Your Grace?” the coachman questioned as Hector stepped into the carriage and adjusted the collar of his coat.

“To the townhouse,” Hector ordered curtly, eager to get away.

Away from the haunting memories. Away from his burdensome responsibilities. Away from Juliet.

The townhouse was sufficiently far away from Islington Hall which made an ideal retreat. It usually afforded him a sense of independence, privacy from society and a reprieve from the responsibilities of his estate. Now, it had also become the perfect hideaway from his wife’s sensuous gaze.

As the carriage began to move, he tried to calm himself and focus on anything other than the storm that was raging within him. However, his thoughts had a mind of their own and were intent on reliving every feeling he possessed for Juliet.

He loathed how bewildered his encounters with Juliet always left him. He could not decide whether he admired or despised her ability to stand her ground. He was greatly discomfited by how exposed he felt when he was near her, much like the youth he had been all those years ago.

But no matter how hard he tried, her words followed him despite the growing distance and refused to be silenced. Without meaning to do so, she had accused him of behaving like his monstrous father.

Perhaps it is time that you reconsidered what it means to be a husband.

His father had never tried to be more than a duke. His responsibilities had always come first, were more important than his family, and he had failed innumerable times to be a good husband.

The worst part was that Juliet was right. He had tried to control and mold her into the perfect duchess, just as his father had tried to control his mother. But Juliet was not his mother, and he was not his father. At least, he hoped he wasn’t.

“She is managing it all quite well. I am the one who needs repair,” he realized slowly.

The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He had always prided himself on being different and better than the man who had raised him. With Juliet’s words ringing in his ears, he wondered if that was still the case.

His arrival at Renton House provided him with a much-needed break from the chaos in his mind. He was unsure how long he would stay, but he was intent on getting the rest he needed while he was there.

“Your Grace,” said the butler as he hurried forward, “we were not expecting you.”

“Is my room clean, John?”

“Always, Your Grace,” replied the butler with a slight bow. “Shall I fetch you a drink?”

“No. Don’t bother,” Hector found himself saying. “I will not be spending the night.”

He did not know when he had arrived at that decision, but that had now become his plan.

As he entered the townhouse, the familiar smell of wood and leather greeted him, and he felt the calmness he had been craving descend upon him like a balm upon his mind and soul.

He went straight to his study and poured himself a glass of brandy. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass while he stared at it and contemplated his next course of action.

He had married Juliet solely for the purpose of fulfilling his promise to Lydia, but she had quickly become more than a responsibility. She had developed into a force to be reckoned with, a woman who refused to be silenced or controlled, and that terrified him because it meant he could no longer hide behind his Duke’s facade.

Hector took a sip of the brandy, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through him, but it did little to ease the tension in his chest. He didn’t want to turn out like his father.

History must not be allowed to repeat itself, but if I do not come up with a solution to meet Juliet halfway, that is exactly what will happen

He stared into the flames that flickered and danced in the hearth and considered the possibility of changing his ways for the first time.

“Your Grace,” the butler announced with a gentle knock on the door, “you have company.”

Hector, lost in his thoughts, barely registered the words. “Who?”

“The Marquess of Elwike, Your Grace.”

“Marcus?” Hector’s brow furrowed in mild surprise before he nodded. “Let him in.”

A few seconds later, Marcus strolled into the room with his usual air of nonchalance. Hector watched as his friend shrugged off his coat and made a beeline for the bottle of brandy on the side table.

“How did you know I was here?” Hector asked.

“A little bird told me,” Marcus replied with a sly grin as he poured himself a generous amount of brandy.

Hector’s frown deepened. “I should like to know which meddling little bird it was.”

“Relax. Your carriage passed by mine as I was heading home.” Marcus chuckled as he watched Hector down the last of his drink with a sigh. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I can be anywhere I want to be,” Hector hissed, the sharpness in his tone making it clear he was in no mood to be told what to do.

Marcus knew his cousin well enough to change the subject. “And the Duchess? How is she faring?”

Hector was momentarily silent, his jaw tightening as he fumed inwardly. “How was your wife when you first married her?” he asked abruptly.

“Emma?” Marcus’ expression softened with the memory. He chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. “She got on my nerves the very second she entered my home. She said, ‘Marcus, I cannot believe you wore that ugly thing for our wedding. Your tailor should have done a better job.’”

A slight chuckle escaped Hector’s lips. “She was right. You looked like you’d been squeezed into it.”

The men laughed, raising their glasses in a shared toast. Their friendship offered a momentary break from the weight of their titles and the burdens of their marriages although Marcus wore his marriage hat proudly.

“She took over my wardrobe once she moved in,” Marcus continued with a feigned sigh. “I became her personal project.”

Hector laughed again, and he felt his mood slowly improving “See how well you turned out. Good on Emma, then.”

For a long time, Marcus said nothing more. His expression was contemplative as he swirled the brandy in his glass. Then, with a slow nod, he downed the drink and set the glass on the center table.

“Yes, I appear to be much better now, and I am not merely speaking about my clothes.”

Hector raised a questioning brow, intrigued by the change in his friend’s tone.

Marcus met Hector’s gaze. With a serious timbre to his voice he remarked, “Sometimes, to become our best selves, we must make room for certain compromises.”

Hector frowned slightly, mulling over Marcus’ words.

Compromise was something he had always avoided. He viewed it as a sign of weakness and a relinquishment of control. But, sitting across from his friend, he now wondered if it was time to take a fresh approach to address his problems.

“I should return home.”

Marcus nodded. “You should. I had also better hurry before my wife decides I do not belong in our home anymore.”

“Ahhh, yes, that would indeed be unfortunate for you.”

“You are married now,” Marcus countered. “You will soon learn who truly runs the house…whilst defying you.”

Hector wasn’t sure if someone had informed Marcus about what had been happening.

Not only was Juliet doing whatever she pleased, she was also taking over his home, but maybe that wouldn’t be as dreadful as he’d initially feared.

“Go home, Hector,” Marcus said, rising to his feet. “I’ll see myself out.”