Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

J uliet’s fingers absently traced the spine of the book she had been trying to read. The silence of the library was stifling. The pages she’d turned were filled with words, but none of them reached her.

Her thoughts drifted back to her argument with Hector and the biting words they’d exchanged. The distance between them had grown even larger in the days thereafter.

Perhaps he has intentionally forgotten that I exist.

The door opened, and Leila entered, carrying a tray set with a delicate porcelain cup and a small pitcher. “Your Grace, I brought you some tea.”

Juliet offered a faint smile. “Thank you, Leila. You are always so thoughtful.”

Leila set the tray on the small table beside Juliet’s chair, hesitating momentarily before speaking again. “Your Grace, with all due respect, might I say something?”

Juliet looked up, noting the concern in Leila’s eyes. “Of course, Leila. What is it?” She had been so lost in her dramatic affairs that she had forgotten about the other new person in Hector’s home. “Are you settling in all right?”

Leila nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace, I am.”

“That’s good,” Juliet sighed. When Leila did not continue, Juliet waved her on. “Were you going to say something?”

Leila clasped her hands nervously. “It is just that…well, the other servants have commented that the Duke is a good man and have spoken highly of his charitable nature…but they also say His Grace has been…different lately. I imagine things have been quite difficult for you as a result. Do you think your present circumstances might improve if you gave him more time to adjust?”

Juliet sighed heavily. She doubted there was a remedy for their unique situation.

She had been sold off to a man she barely knew, one whose true motivations were as mysterious to her as his real character.

The Duchess did not know what to make of it all, and it pained her to think that her days might forever unfold in the same manner they had begun.

“You are sweet to worry, Leila. I just…” she paused, searching for the right words. “I doubt that the present state of affairs will improve because I am certain he does not even care.”

Leila reached out and gave Juliet’s hand a quick squeeze. “Do not be too quick to judge him, Your Grace. I suspect the Duke is trying to adjust. We all are.”

“Is there something I do not know about?”

“The staff gossip, Your Grace,” Leila told her. “His Grace has not been himself since he lost his sister.”

Leila left shortly thereafter which gave Juliet some more time to be alone with her thoughts. She stared at her untouched cup of tea as she considered the nature of her relationship with Hector.

The house felt like a prison cell that resonated with the coldness that had taken up residence between herself and Hector.

A week had passed since their last argument, and during that time, she had barely caught a glimpse of him. He had retreated into his own world, leaving her to wander the halls in solitude.

Juliet deliberately shoved aside all thoughts of her husband.

I wonder how Sonya is faring .

She thought of the convent she had once called home and the sisters who had been her family. She longed for that simplicity, the sense of belonging she had been given there. But here, in this majestic house, she felt like an outsider, unsure of her place or what to do next.

The silence from the convent worried her. She hadn’t received any word of their circumstances, and their lack of communication gnawed at her and increased her anxiety. She missed the cold walls of the nunnery and the comfort she had felt, knowing she was needed.

She sighed again, then leaned back against her chair as her eyes drifted to the window. The sky outside was full of dull, dark clouds that mirrored her somber mood.

Her days seemed to stretch endlessly before her, each one rolling into the next, marked only by Hector’s continued absence.

I must find something to do, or I will perish at this rate.

It was just as Hector had pointed out. She was raised in the Abbey. A woman like her could not sit still and do nothing.

But what can I possibly do?

The thought of approaching Hector and risking another confrontation made her heart wrench. She knew she could bear it, but doing nothing felt equally distasteful.

I must ask when I can visit the convent.

The soft rustle of the curtains drew her attention, and she realized the wind outside was picking up. A walk in the garden would help her to clear her mind and think. She stood, smoothing down her skirts, and decided to venture outside.

Juliet’s thoughts swelled as she made her way through the house. She wondered what Hector was doing and whether he was thinking about her.

Juliet reached the door to the garden, pushed it open, and stepped into the cool afternoon air. The flowers were in full bloom, but their bright colors did not lift her spirits. She wandered down the path, lost in her thoughts, and barely perceived the beauty that surrounded her.

Would I ever feel at home here?

She didn’t have any answers. All she had were the questions and doubts that plagued her every waking moment.

“Your Grace,” Estella called out, stepping into the garden with a cautious smile.

Juliet spun around, her heart quickening. “Yes, Mrs. Harris? Is something the matter?”

The housekeeper shook her head, but Juliet noticed the slight hesitation in her eyes.

“Not at all, Your Grace. I was simply confirming your well-being. You have been out here for quite some time.”

Juliet sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. “I have been thinking, Mrs. Harris. When will it be proper for me to leave the house? I have…places I wish to visit.”

Estella hesitated, the corners of her mouth tightening as she weighed her words. “Would you like me to run an errand for you, Your Grace? I would be more than happy to help in any way I can.”

Juliet shook her head. “No, Mrs. Harris, that is not what I meant. I need to know when it would be acceptable for me to step out if I need to visit friends. When can I go about freely?”

“Oh. That.” Estella’s voice wavered slightly as she spoke. “I suppose the Duke wouldn’t mind…”

Juliet’s sharp ears caught the subtle edge as Estella said the word Duke . Clearly, the housekeeper was pushing her back to the authoritative head of Islington Hall.

A heavy sigh escaped Juliet’s lips. “So, it is as I had feared. I must seek my husband’s permission for something as simple as a visit.”

Estella gave her a sympathetic look, but it contained little comfort. “That may very well be the case, Your Grace. It may be best to speak with the Duke directly.”

Juliet felt irritated, but she masked it with a polite nod. “Thank you, Mrs. Harris. I will carefully consider that approach.”

The housekeeper remained still for a moment then curtsied and returned to the house.

Juliet turned back to the garden, her mind swirling with thoughts. If she wanted any freedom in this house, she would need to negotiate it with Hector. The very idea left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She had married him under circumstances that left little room for choice or negotiation, and now she was expected to seek his approval for even the smallest of things. It was as if she had become a child again, bound by the decisions of others with no say in her own life.

He was sorely mistaken if Hector thought he could keep her confined within these walls.

Juliet turned on her heel and returned to the house with a determined set to her jaw.

“Where is my…the Duke?”

“Your Grace,” the butler said, stepping aside as Juliet entered the grand foyer, “the Duke is taking a break from the hours spent in his study. He is on the balcony upstairs. His Grace likes the view of the lake from there.”

The balcony?

A wave of excitement rushed over Juliet as she imagined what the view from up there would look like with the ground so far below. A chill of trepidation ran down her spine, and a cold sweat broke out over her skin at the thought of meeting him on such an open, risky ledge.

Even after so many years, Juliet had never recovered from her fear of heights since her mother had fallen to her death.

“Your Grace?” the butler inquired with a puzzled look.

Swallowing her panic, Juliet mentally chastised herself for her childish fears. She was a duchess now, not a little girl.

With a shake of her head and a slow intake of breath, she began to climb. Her hand gripped the banister tightly as though it was her only lifeline.

Each step felt heavier than her last, and her heart pounded more rapidly with each riser she climbed. The walls seemed to close in, and the air felt thinner as she ascended. She focused on the polished wood beneath her feet, trying to block out her rising panic.

“Why, of all places, did Hector have to find the view from a balcony relaxing?”

The staircase curved, revealing a long hallway bathed in soft, filtered light. The balcony was at the far end, its door wide open.

She could see her husband from where she stood. She admired the firm lines of his broad back and the gentle way his hair swayed in the breeze. Juliet hesitated as she climbed higher, and her breath caught in her throat. Her hands grew clammy, and vision blurred with the effort required to complete her ascent.

As Juliet’s steps faltered, she could feel her courage draining away as her body froze in place. Despite her now violent shaking, she squeezed her eyes shut and called out for Hector.

“H-Hector…Hector?”

Juliet knew with complete certainty that she was about to fall to her death, just as her mother had done.