Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

“ Y our Grace — you forgot your brooch,” one of the maids reminded Harriet.

As Harriet dressed for the day the next morning, she found herself feeling uncharacteristically nervous. She was forgetting things that she normally did not, and stumbling over her words as though this was her first day at the estate.

“Thank you,” Harriet said, carefully taking the brooch. “You may leave now. I shall make it to the dining table myself.”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” the maid bowed slightly before dashing out the room.

Now that Harriet was alone, she stole another look at herself in the mirror.

Was her hair perfectly in place? Did she look proper? What was that little smudge on the side of her cheeks?

The realization that she was anxious about seeing Simon again made her cheeks flush with irritation. She was not a woman easily flustered, and she prided herself on her independence and strength. But there was something about Simon, about the way he had looked at her, that unsettled her in a way she couldn't deny.

Get a hold of yourself, Harriet. She reminded herself sternly. So, yes, it had been endearing seeing the duke last night. And, yes, it had done much to improve his impression in front of her.

But none of that justified acting like a fool.

By the time she made her way downstairs for breakfast, Harriet had composed herself as much as she could. The dining room was already set, and the staff had laid out an elegant spread of fruits, pastries, and freshly brewed tea. Simon was already there, seated at the head of the table, reading the morning paper as if the previous night had been nothing more than a dream.

Harriet hesitated in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of him.

He looked perfectly composed, his dark hair neatly styled, his expression calm and unreadable. If he was aware of her presence, he made no indication of it; his attention was focused entirely on the paper in his hands.

Harriet took a deep breath, steeling herself before walking into the room.

You have no reason to be nervous, she reminded herself firmly. This was her home and her life, and she would not allow herself to be intimidated by her own husband.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her voice steady as she took her seat at the table.

Simon glanced up from the paper, his expression neutral. “Good morning, Harriet.”

There was a brief, awkward silence as Harriet reached for a piece of toast. She could feel Simon’s eyes on her, and the awareness of his gaze made her movements slightly more deliberate, her fingers just a bit more precise as she buttered the toast.

Finally, Simon folded the paper and set it aside, turning his full attention to her. “I trust you slept well?”

Harriet nodded, though she felt a pang of nervousness at the small talk. It was unlike Simon to engage in such pleasantries, and it made her wonder what he was leading up to.

“I did, thank you,” she replied, keeping her tone polite.

“At least you are eating something today,” his gaze dropped down to the toast on her plate, nodding approvingly.

“I see that you are still quite concerned with my eating habits,” she mused.

In her bid to mask her nervousness, she was coming across as caustic instead.

“About your well-being,” he corrected swiftly, causing her stomach to do a somersault though she hid it by looking down at her plate. “Besides, you should know what kind of a person I am by now. I do not like it when people are not being responsible about the things expected of them.”

“I agree, Simon,” Harriet quipped back, “It is quite disheartening, especially, when your husband all but disappears for up to a year…”

“That is enough,” Simon cut her off prematurely. “I know that you get great pleasure bringing that up, but it would be better for you to look towards the future.”

Our shared future? Harriet’s heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that Simon had somehow changed his mind about their arrangement?

Without preamble, he said, “We will be attending a ball tomorrow night.”

Harriet’s hand paused mid-motion, her knife hovering over her plate. She looked up at Simon, surprised by the sudden announcement.

Oh. He meant a much more immediate future than I imagined.

“A ball?”

Simon nodded, his expression giving nothing away. “Now that I have returned, it is expected that I attend some social events. Lord and Lady Whitmore are hosting, and it would be remiss of us not to make an appearance.”

Harriet felt a mixture of emotions at the news. On one hand, she had been craving the opportunity to step back into society, to escape the confines of the manor and remind herself of the world beyond. On the other, the thought of attending a ball with Simon, of being seen together in public as a married couple, made her heart race with nervous anticipation.

Simon seemed to notice her hesitation, and he continued. “If you need a new gown for the occasion, I can arrange for a modiste to come to the house and have one made quickly.”

Harriet blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. His words struck a nerve. The implication that she might be unprepared, that she might not have the appropriate attire for such an event, felt like an unintentional slight.

Her response was sharper than she intended. “I already have plenty of gowns that would be appropriate for the occasion, Simon. I’ve had no chance to wear them, of course, for reasons that you already know well.”

Simon seemed unaffected by her insult. His expression remained calm, his gaze unwavering as he regarded her. “I see,” he said simply, his tone even, betraying none of the emotions that Harriet had hoped to provoke.

The silence between them was thick with tension, and Harriet found herself unable to meet his gaze. She busied herself with her breakfast, but her appetite had all but vanished.

They both seemed to be far too occupied with their thoughts. The sound of forks raking against the plates, or that of glasses clinking against the cutlery was the only thing that was heard.

Until…

Simon spoke again, his voice measured.

“Harriet, would you have preferred living with a stranger and giving up the freedom that you apparently wanted?”

Harriet’s fork clattered onto her plate, the noise sharp in the otherwise quiet room. She looked up at him, stunned by the directness of his question.

“ What do you mean?”

Simon leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady as he regarded her. “Is that not what you desired? Freedom from the constraints of marriage? Independence? I left because I believed it was what you wanted. Neither of us wished for this marriage, and I thought you would prefer to live your life as you pleased.”

Harriet's mind raced. It was true that she had valued her independence, that she had feared marriage would strip her of the freedom she cherished. But she had never imagined that Simon’s distance was meant to grant her that freedom.

“You left because you thought it was what I wanted?” she repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Simon, you proposed to me after the scandal. You made a commitment?—”

“A commitment neither of us wanted, ” Simon interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You know as well as I do that this marriage was never something we chose. Circumstances forced us into it, and I never had any intention of truly being your husband. ”

Harriet’s breath caught in her throat, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion, hurt, and anger. “You never wanted to marry, ” she said slowly, piecing together his confession. “But then… why propose at all? Why not simply let the scandal take its course? ”

Simon’s eyes darkened, and Harriet could see a flicker of something deeper in his expression — something that hinted at a past pain he had yet to share.

But, before she could probe further, Simon shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

“It was my duty,” he said finally, his tone more guarded now.

“That is what you have always maintained,” Harriet brought up. She had not expected to be having a conversation like this over breakfast, but now that they had started, she was not going to back down. “But Simon, there has to be more to it.”

Was it wishful thinking? Or just a way to protect her own ego from getting maimed. Whichever it was, Harriet wished dearly for there to be some other reason than just duty behind his proposal.

“I do not see how this conversation helps you in any way…”

“Do all conversations need to have a grand purpose to them?” Harriet contended.

“I have little interest in engaging in idle chatter….”

“Idle chatter?” Harriet narrowed her eyes at him. Here they were speaking about their marriage, and he had the gall to refer to it as idle chatter. Taking a breath to calm herself, she drew herself back in her chair. “Well, then, Your Grace. How very convenient that we are seated at the breakfast table. No better place for idle chatter. ”

Simon shot her a look. “Were you like this in your parents’ house as well?”

“I am not sure how that has anything to do with the topic at hand,” Harriet patted the side of her mouth gently with her napkin.

“Casual curiosity,” he shrugged. “Fitting for idle chatter, don’t you think?”

So this is the game that he wants to play?

“In that case, I should tell you that, yes. I was the same way at my parents’ house.” If not worse. “Does that satiate your curiosity?”

He let out a nonchalant ‘humph’. “I am afraid that it only deepens it. How did your parents deal with your particular…” he paused, searching for the right word, “affliction.”

“Poorly,” Harriet replied. “I am afraid that they cannot offer you any tips on the matter, if that is the reason why you are asking.”

Harriet noticed the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a smile, but he quickly replaced it with his usual, stoic expression.

“ I see. That is quite the shame.”

“Yes,” Harriet nodded. “It is no wonder that they were in such a rush to marry me off.”

“Shall I consider myself the lucky bloke that got to be the one to do it?” he challenged.

In a strange sense, the two of them had developed something of a rapport between them. Not comfortable enough yet to be close — but comfortable enough to speak candidly about topics.

She realized that the duke was different in this manner. All the men she had spoken to before her marriage never took well to her sharp tongue, or wit. They always took offense to it.

Simon? He barely budged. In fact, he even humored her attempts, fighting back with a ready answer of his own.

“If I were you, I would consider myself quite lucky, yes,” Harriet leaned forward in her chair. “You get to live life as a single man, without having to live with an actual wife.”

Simon’s expression changed, and it was clear that the banter had come to an end.

“Whatever I did, I did to protect both of us.”

Protect?

“I was not aware that we were under so much threat.”

“Harriet, I know that you consider yourself to be someone who has a lot of knowledge…” he pressed his lips together. “Perhaps that may even be true for certain situations. But you have not seen life the same way as I have. As a duke, dealing with people and gauging them is one of the primary things at which I am adept.”

“That is quite a lot of words to explain that you are swift to judge,” Harriet mumbled under her throat, not intending for the duke to hear.

But he did anyway, and passed her a weary look.

“You have not seen the marriages that I have. You do not know how quickly things can crumble,” he maintained. “The distance that I put between the both of us was a preemptive measure to protect us both.”

Harriet did not quite know how that statement made her feel. Except that it was not anything good.

“I’ve seen what marriage can become, Harriet. I’ve seen how it can destroy people.”

The seriousness in his words made her realize that there was more to Simon’s reluctance than she had understood. But before she could ask him to elaborate, before she could even think of how to respond, Simon abruptly changed the subject.

“The nursemaid your sister recommended will be here this evening, ” he said, rising from his chair as if to signal the end of the conversation. “I’ll see to it that she is settled in. ”

Harriet sat frozen in her chair, still processing everything he had just revealed.

She watched as Simon turned to leave the room, his back straight, his posture as composed as ever. He paused briefly at the doorway, glancing back at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Prepare yourself for tomorrow night, Harriet, ” he said, his voice softening slightly. “It will be our first public appearance together as a married couple. I trust you will do us both credit. ”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Harriet alone with her thoughts, her heart racing with the implications of what had just transpired.

For several minutes, Harriet remained at the breakfast table, her thoughts a chaotic tangle of emotions. Simon’s confession had taken her completely by surprise, and she struggled to reconcile his words with the man she thought she had known.

He had left her because he thought it was what she wanted.

The revelation was both a relief and a source of deep frustration. All this time, she had believed that he simply didn’t care, that he had married her out of duty and then discarded her without a second thought. But now she understood that his absence had been motivated by something else — by his own fear of what marriage could become.

Harriet’s mind raced back to his cryptic remark about marriage destroying people. What had he meant by that? Was it something he had witnessed? Something he had experienced himself? She had so many questions, but Simon had made it clear that he wasn’t ready to share more.