Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

W hen his father passed, Matthew didn’t have the heart to change much about his study. Though he inherited everything within it, including the constant responsibility of being a duke, there was nothing for him to change. The paintings were the same as before he was born. The shelves were filled with the same books, with new editions stored elsewhere in the manor. All that changed was Matthew.

Matthew paused in his writing, struggling to formulate cohesive thoughts to his sister, Lucy. His heart slammed against his chest.

The sun was rising, and breakfast would soon be served in the dining hall. He knew, at this moment, the light would be streaming into his new wife’s bedroom, the servant entering the room silently to pull the curtains back. His wife would awaken with the memories of the night before still bright in her mind, and she would be expecting a calm man to be waiting for her.

He needed Lucy to return. He needed someone else, someone familiar, to wash these feelings away, to bring him back to normal. Matthew lifted his gaze, meeting the eyes of his father’s portrait hanging above the mantel. The old duke watched him with judgment and shame, at the letter he wrote. Pleading for his bastard sister to return to Garvey Manor and rescue him from spending time with his duchess.

Matthew finished writing the letter.

He knew his sister well, and she would return at the first sign of trouble. He sighed.

At least she would be back .

When the sunlight peered through Alicia’s window, she did not feel as much unease as she did on the day of her wedding. There was a slight excitement, a curiosity to tour the gardens offered by the duke. She spent the morning bath staring into the water in an anxious silence.

“Your Grace,” Juliet, the lady’s maid, said in a sing-song voice from behind the partition.

Alicia smiled, looking over her shoulder. “I am all finished, Juliet.”

The young girl, a head shorter than Alicia, came around swiftly, holding up a long cloth to wrap around her. Juliet had midnight colored hair, inherited from her French descent, small hands and a rabbit-like mouth. “Such lovely skin, Your Grace!” she exclaimed while helping Alicia out of the tub.

“You’re very kind,” she said, dabbing the water off her. “I would like to wear loose clothes today, Juliet. I will be touring the gardens.”

Juliet went through her clothes. “How exciting, Your Grace,” she said.

“Have you been here long, Juliet?”

“No, Your Grace,” she said, holding a dress up for her inspection, “the duke hired me at the announcement of his marriage.”

Alicia nodded, standing still as the maid helped her into the flowing garment. “So,” she drawled, “you don’t know much about his family?”

“I’ve lived in the duke’s territory for a few years,” Juliet explained. “It has been pleasurable enough.”

“That is good.”

“Though,” Juliet said, her thin eyebrows raised as she began to gossip, “Most of the villagers remember only the late duke and his harsh lead. The new duke has kept to himself recently.”

Alicia nodded, pressing her lips together.

“I apologize, Your Grace,” Juliet whispered. “I shouldn’t gossip.”

“It’s all right,” Alicia said.

Juliet finished dressing the duchess in the next few moments, simply pinning a few pieces of hair so the rest flowed down her back like the curtains in her room. Alicia fastened on shoes for the outdoors before following Juliet through the maze of Garvey Manor.

“I am unsure of when I will be able to find my own way,” Alicia joked, wondering when the halls would become more familiar.

“Do not worry, Your Grace,” Juliet said over her shoulder with a polite smile, “We will have plenty of time to teach you the way.” Extending her hand in front of an opening, Juliet gestured toward the dining room’s entrance. “Have a good morning, Your Grace.”

Alicia nodded towards her maid before entering the dining room. The pale blue skirts she wore flowed down to her ankles, the matching short sleeves making her feel young and adventurous. She was prepared to spend her first full day in Garvey Manor exploring the pristine gardens, and hoped the day might end with an easier atmosphere between her and the duke.

Servants poured drinks into glasses as she entered the room. Hearing her footsteps, Matthew stood from his seat at the head of the table, the stern look he always had painted on his face. His gaze met her own for a split second before looking back down at the papers stacked on his side of the table. An older gentleman, a business advisor for the estate, stood beside Matthew’s seat, waiting with more papers and forms.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Alicia said as she sat in her seat. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough.”

Alicia watched him expectantly, waiting for him to ask her the same question. He remained quiet, however, intensely reading. He leaned over his shoulder every now and then, muttering something to the man behind him. Alicia couldn’t hide the confusion filling her heart.

“I heard birdsong early this morning,” she continued. “Are they attracted to the gardens?”

Matthew sighed, almost as if he were annoyed at her questions. “You can find the groundskeeper later,” he said sternly.

“Groundskeeper?”

“His name is Renfield, Your Grace,” he explained, “and he will be out in the gardens till sundown.”

Alicia felt her expectations for the day sink. “Renfield?”

Matthew didn’t bother to look up from his paperwork, his pen noisily scribbling against it. “Is there a reason why you’re repeating everything I say?”

Stunned into a stiff silence, Alicia stared at the side of his head. He acted as though the night before had never occurred, like there was no yearn for them to have a truce. As if it were all a ploy, a spur of the moment that any man might feel on their wedding night.

Alicia sighed and tried to remember her mother’s words, and not give up on her future. “No, Your Grace.”

The pair continued on in silence. Alicia’s gaze did not leave her plate. Matthew kept working, kept discussing business with his advisor. More and more servants entered the dining hall, delivering paperwork to the duke. Their movement filled the silence; their footsteps echoing in the wide room.

Matthew finished his food, pushed his plate as he stood, and the servants cleared his side of the table. “Ms. Crawford,” he called out.

The housekeeper answered his command, her lips pulled into a straight line. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Direct the duchess toward everything it takes to rise to the occasion of her new title,” Matthew continued. “I’m sure you have plenty of answers for her questions.”

Alicia abruptly stood, and he flinched in surprise. “I don’t understand, Your Grace.”

He blinked, almost as if he did not know what to say. The confusion faded into an anger, a festering irritation. “What is there not to understand?”

She flinched backward, clenching her fists at her sides. The man asking for a tolerant relationship was nowhere to be seen.

“Learn from Ms. Crawford,” Matthew commanded. “Attend to your duties as duchess, and I will see you this evening.” He began to walk away, almost marching out of the dining hall.

Alicia glared, unwilling to let him run out on her like that. “Where are you going?” she called out, her voice more demanding than she wished for it to be.

“I need to go out for business,” he replied, staring at her with a perplexed stare.

She pressed on. “What kind of business?”

“None that is of the concern of my wife!” Matthew sneered before crossing the room to the door. He paused at the threshold, hands wound behind his back as he tossed a look over his shoulder. “Are we clear?”

Alicia glared at him, the disrespect forcing her to forget any sort of “tolerance” once agreed upon. Her lips spread into a fake smile. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Giving her a curt bow, Matthew stormed out of the dining hall.

Alicia looked up, meeting the eyes of one of the duke’s ancestors that watched over her from a painting. In that moment, she wished to be inside a painting, trapped in a moment of bliss for the rest of eternity.