Chapter 6

6

Patience stood next to her husband—what a strange notion—in the ballroom of Rath Hall and did her best to remember the names of the guests to whom she'd been introduced. They came one after another to congratulate her and the duke.

There was the duke's aunt, Lady Eleanor Buchanan, a warm woman with very kind eyes. Patience wondered if the whisper she'd heard during the ceremony —I like her! —had come from her. The duke's sister, Lady Chastity, had the same coloring as her brother, but with lovely feminine features. Though her manner was as cold and aloof as his.

Her new sister…

Then there were two Lord Seatons and their wives. Two duchesses of Grandhampton, one of whom was a dowager in her older years, and the other a young, pretty lady. There was the Duke of Grandhampton, the Duchess and Duke of Kelford. He had three sisters, one of whom was around her age. The other two were very charming twins a couple of years younger.

All of them were striking and beautiful and extremely polite.

And all of them made her head spin as she tried and failed to imagine how she could ever fit into this regal room. It had dark blue paneled walls, detailed moldings on the ceiling, and multiple crystal chandeliers. Heavy velvet drapes of a deep burgundy flanked the long, arched windows, pulled back just enough to let in the sunshine. The intricately carved dark mahogany furniture with red upholstery was arresting. And rich scents of perfume, champagne, and decadent food filled the air.

It was strange to have several footmen and a stately butler walk around the room, serving everyone drinks, when for most of her life her family couldn't afford a single servant. She felt like she needed to join them, to take one of the trays out of their hands and offer the guests refreshments. They'd had a housekeeper and cook before John went to Oxford, but they had to let her go after they spent all their money on John's tuition.

Patience kept nodding politely and smiling with all the warmth in her heart to these kind people who seemed to welcome her to her new life and didn't remark on her near fall at the wedding. They didn't show any sign they noticed the poor state of her dress or that she had no idea what to talk to them about. She kept asking them questions about themselves just so that no one would suspect how utterly out of place she felt.

And since leaving the carriage, she hadn't exchanged a single word with her husband.

"Finally I get a chance at an introduction," said a tall, handsome man with golden hair and violet eyes.He had a perfectly fitted coat, a light yellow waistcoat, and wore a golden signet ring with a stag.He gave a bow, and his eyes ran over her with male appreciation. "Dorian, will you introduce your best man and best friend to your wife? "

Dorian…her husband's name was Dorian. The vicar had said it during the ceremony, but her head had been swimming, and it was only now that she registered it. What a beautiful, dark name…just like him.

As Patience glanced up at her husband, the muscles of his jaw moved, and he glared at his supposed best friend. An unease shifted in Patience.

"Duchess, allow me to introduce Lucien, the Duke of Luhst."

"Pleasure," Luhst murmured and stretched his hand out towards her, bowing once again.

What was she supposed to?—

"Your hand, Duchess," said Lucien with a soft smile and a cunning glint in his eyes.

Did he want to kiss her hand? Was that allowed? Her husband didn't even kiss her hand! She glanced at Rath, whose face was twitching with barely contained rage.

"Lucien—" growled her husband, just like an angry dog.

"Oh, go on, Duchess," murmured Luhst like a devil, "you don't want to leave me rejected like this. It's merely a gesture of high respect and appreciation from a man to a woman of high class."

She felt everyone's eyes on her. She had no idea about these things. But her husband was positively scaring her. She shoved her hand into Luhst's; he bowed his head even more and lightly touched his lips to her skin.

She burst into flames. That was what it felt like, her whole body hit by fiery wall of embarrassment. When the Duke of Luhst let go of her hand, she wanted to disappear.

"See, not so scary?" he said with a devious smile.

"You are despicable!" barked the Duke of Rath at Luhst, making everyone's heads turn to him. "You've seduced every woman in London and now are trying for my wife ? "

He was making a scene. And Patience didn't understand why. This fury she saw in him, the clenched fists, the quickly rising and falling chest, the sinews on his neck bulging beneath his red skin.

Was he going to throw himself on his best friend for kissing her hand? No, surely not because of her!

"Please forgive me," she muttered. "I am in urgent need of fresh air."

As Patience hurried away from the tense scene in the ballroom, she navigated through the unfamiliar corridors of Rath Hall, her heart pounding in her chest. She passed through an arched doorway, finding herself in a long, elegantly decorated gallery. The walls were adorned with portraits of the duke's ancestors with dark, almost black backgrounds. The polished marble floor echoed with the click of her heels, and the afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall leaded-glass windows, casting intricate patterns on the plush rugs.

At the end of the gallery, Patience reached a set of French doors that opened onto a stone terrace and closed her eyes, gulping in the cool, fresh air full of scents of decomposing vegetation and nature. Taking in breaths of air was soothing.

It was only when she opened her eyes that she noticed what spread before her, just a few steps down from the terrace.A garden.

It was as vast her eyes could see—although she couldn't see much at all because of the dead and dried-out trees, bushes, underbrush, and grass.

The overgrown expanse sprawled before Patience, wild and untamed. What must have once been manicured lawns were now a tangle of weeds and grass, the blades reaching towards the sky in defiant spikes. Dandelions, their yellow heads bobbing in the breeze, dotted the greenery.

She thought she could almost distinguish what must have been flower beds in a jumble of foliage. She saw old, desiccated rosebushes in the chaos of brambles and thorny vines that had crept in from the edges, snaking across the soil like grasping fingers. The trees, ancient and gnarled, loomed over the garden like beasts frozen in time. Heavy with age and neglect, their branches drooped low to the ground, creating shade that swallowed the light.

She walked what must have once been a path, barely discernible amid the overgrowth.

She gasped, mesmerized. What a huge space, and yet so abandoned, so lonely.Such a stark contrast with the rest of the house, which was refined and opulent.

She craved to touch and to see her rosebushes so much, her fingers tingled. She walked through the garden, lightly brushing her fingers over the leaves and stems. She relished even the dandelions, nettles, and coltsfoot. With some work and planning, this garden could be beautiful.

Her own personal heaven. She could see it in its full glory in her inner eye.

She must have walked for a few minutes when she turned a corner and stopped.

There was a glasshouse.

A glasshouse!

She'd only read about them in one book. She'd thought they were a myth! They were very expensive and difficult to build. She knew this could be a haven for plants.

It was a large rectangular building with a vaulted ceiling high enough to accommodate trees. The iron frame, once painted a deep black, now bore the marks of time, with green rust-resistant paint flaking away to reveal the weathered metal beneath. The neglected state of the structure made it clear that no one had set foot inside for an extended period. Grime and dirt obscured the glass panes, making it difficult to discern the interior, though Patience could make out the silhouettes of dry grasses and twisted branches pressing against the clouded windows.

Oh, what plants used to grow there? Her curiosity was piqued, and for the first time in four days, she felt a ping of happiness, a true joy her heart could sing. Could she possibly be allowed to use this?

She approached the building and laid her hand on the glass door, which was covered in a layer of dirt so thick she could barely see what was inside. Would the duke really mind if she brought it to order and restored it? Could she use it for botanical experiments? Oh, what if she could get her hands on some exotic plants that were difficult to grow in this climate…like tomatoes, lemons, oranges, figs, and perhaps even a coffee arabica ?

As Patience reached out to open the door of the glasshouse, she hesitated. A thick bush obscured part of the view, revealing shards of broken glass. Frowning, she noticed the glass to the right of the door was shattered. Dirty glass shards littered the ground, some hidden by the bush. It appeared as if the break had originated from within. How? What happened? Yet another mystery to add to this house and her new husband.

"Stop," said a cold, velvety voice behind her, and a wave of dread washed over her.

She turned. Among the overgrown bushes and trees, stood the Duke of Rath. He was breathtakingly, heartbreakingly gorgeous, a dark lord among dead vegetation and rampant weeds.

"Um…" Her fingers clenched at the skirt of her dress. She suddenly felt like she'd stepped into someone's private space without permission.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

It was the first thing he'd ever asked her, she realized distantly. And it sounded like an accusation. She felt like she needed to justify herself.

"Am I not supposed to be here?" she asked, fumbling with her dress.

His eyes darted to the glasshouse behind her, and a haunted expression flitted over his face. "No."

"Why not?" she asked as she took a few tentative steps away from the glasshouse and towards him. "This is just a garden, and one that needs attention."

His jaw twitched as he followed her every step. "Because I said so."

She stopped a few steps from him. He appeared quite as furious as he had back in the ballroom. But right now, he wasn't scary. He looked…lost.

He was the master of her and her husband, and as her mama taught her, she was his to command. But she couldn't accept the premise of this explanation.

Because I said so? No. She had questions.

"What is your reason for a ‘no'?" she asked.

His face straightened in surprise. "My reason?"

"Because while ‘no,' without a doubt, does mean ‘no,' the reasoning ‘because I said so' is not well-grounded. Or defensible. Or very adult, to be frank."

Slowly, he stalked towards her, a storm brewing in his eyes. His upper lip curved upward, as he was about to bare his teeth.

Her stomach dropped in real fear.

Take it back, take it back, take it back!

Distantly, she registered herself backing away from him. He was so much larger and taller than her—she had to crane her neck to look at him, for God's sake! And those muscles, Lord, he could snap her in half if he wished to!

"Are you calling me a child ?" he rumbled.

"No," she said as she kept backing up down the gravel path, her hands searching for something big and sturdy to put between herself and the furious, advancing duke. "I merely require more explanation than ‘because I said so.'"

Oh, no, she'd made it worse. She could actually see his white teeth as his lips thinned and curled inwards.

"Do you think you're so smart, arguing with me, asking imprudent questions? Your queries are dangerous. You are the one behaving like a child, sweet girl. You just stepped into an unfamiliar world. There will be no one to pour your soul out to here. No one to let you cry on their bosom. You just married a duke. You need to learn to compose yourself, think about what you say and ask. Safe is the last thing you should feel."

Every accusation was a blast straight to her core. Naive. Young. Desperately trying to please. All true. How did he see her through like that? It must be because he was so much older, so much more experienced. Never in her life had she been near such a confident, powerful, intelligent man.

She didn't know what to do. Should she shut up? Keep talking? Reason with him? He must see his behavior had no logical ground.

"But isn't it safe when there are dozens of footmen on the property?" The words blurted out of her like hail as she kept backing up and he kept slowly advancing on her, his fists clenched. "The concern for my safety being a woman alone outside can with all likelihood be overlooked. Unless there are wild bears living somewhere in the overgrowth, which I highly doubt since bears do not like the company of people, and there aren't many left on the British Isles. Therefore, I'd argue that the reasoning about wild animals is also void. So I'm perfectly safe here. Are you perhaps concerned I'll use the garden to run away—that I will hide among the brambles and scramble over the wall? I'm very interested in staying, as the contract with my father stipulates that you will pay off all of my family's debts and save my papa from debtor's prison and my family from being on the streets. So I won't run away. And this garden does need lots of work…which I'm happy to provide. I'd love to, in fact. I can see a stunning chestnut tree here. And a lovely ash tree there. And just pruning some branches, removing these dry bushes, and putting in some fresh boxwood shrubs could bring in plenty of light and new life."

She turned to the glasshouse and sighed. "And this…" she said with her voice ringing in awe. "Oh heavens…please allow me to restore this to its original glory."

When she looked at him, his lips were pulled into a fierce snarl.His gloved hand was twitching, clenching and unclenching.

"You are forbidden to lay a single finger on the garden!" he roared, and she startled, taking a step back. Just a few more and she'd be pressed against the panes. "And especially do not ever dare to step anywhere near the glasshouse!"

"But, Your Grace?—"

"In fact," he growled as he began pacing in a semicircle around her, looking as though he was going to devour her. "You will have to follow certain rules. Do you understand?"

She felt her shoulders tense and her neck shrink into her frame. She nodded.

"Number one, you will have your own part of the house, and I will have mine. You will not be allowed into any of my chambers."

She swallowed, blinking. What in the world had caused this outrage?

"No sneaking around in my part of the house. You will only come by invitation! Number two, there will be no wifely duties. Do not expect me to come to you. Do not appear in my bed to tempt me. "

Wifely duties? Tempt him? Good God, was she so repulsive to him? It must be the dress!

"Why?" she asked, her voice trembling as though she was hurt.

She wasn't hurt. Why should she be hurt by the unpleasant attitude of someone who didn't even know her?

He threw her a glare of such magnitude she felt as if he'd scorched her like dry grass.

"Do not pretend like you are not relieved. You will be busy enough with duties as my duchess. You must perform certain obligations and organize entertainments I've long neglected. And there will be social obligations and events for the London ton."

She licked her dry lips and took a step closer to him, which made him flinch and step back. "I understand."

"If you fail to keep to the rules, I will be forced to punish you."

Punish her? She blinked, her cheeks heating. "Punish me how?" she asked.

He mumbled something under his breath that could only have been a curse."You do not want to find out, Duchess," he growled.

Duchess…it was as though he was addressing someone else. Smile. No matter what, look at the positive. He hasn't thrown you out yet. He mustn't throw you out. You must please him and adhere to his rules so that your family is safe and provided for.

"I'll do my best to adhere to your rules, Duke," she said and smiled. "But may I ask you one thing? Why did you marry me?"

Color drained from his face, and his eyes darted nervously as his jaw clenched. "What?"

Patience's eyebrows rose. Was she seeing this right? Such a fearsome man as the duke looked hesitant…cornered…

"Well," she said as she approached him, feeling brave, " since Papa returned from London with the news of our betrothal, I've been puzzled. You'd never met me. You didn't know my family. I have no dowry, yet you're willing to pay Papa's debts. I'm just a simple landowner's daughter with no titles and a scandal surrounding my name. Why choose me over a respectable young lady from a noble family?"

Shoulders squaring, he drew himself up. His eyes narrowed, brows lowered, and upper lip curled into a snarl, baring his teeth. A flutter rippled through Patience's stomach as she realized her moment of triumph had evaporated.

"Rule number three," he growled. "Do not ask questions!"