Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

" H ello."

Diana glanced up, startled by the sudden voice. The fact that no one had been announced and yet there was a young woman standing before her was certainly unexpected.

"Hello," she replied, casting a quick glance toward Margaret, who had quickly risen at the intrusion.

"Oh, I am sorry, I am Isabelle. Matthew's cousin. We were introduced at the wedding, you recall?"

"Ah, yes. Isabelle."

Diana did remember meeting Isabelle, now that she mentioned it. And though she had not spent much time with the lady at the time, she did look vaguely familiar.

"I am sorry. I am so used to gadding about in the house with John that it did not occur to me to announce myself."

"It is no trouble," Diana replied, wondering just what it was that had brought Isabelle here today. And especially to her rather than Matthew.

"I thought we should get to know one another. We shall see each other quite a bit, I am sure. John and I are often with Matthew, and I suppose that we shall now include you as well."

The bright smile that Isabelle gave her indicated that she was pleased with this development, and Diana could not help but return a slight smile of her own, though she was still a little uncertain about this lady.

"I should like to get to know someone who is so important to Matthew," Diana said carefully.

Isabelle's smile widened even more. "Indeed. Matthew is extremely important to me as well. I very much wish him to be happy. And I do hope that you shall be able to make him happy."

Diana was not so sure herself, but she didn't say anything, and Isabelle did not press the issue.

"Now, let us get to know one another, and we shall soon be just like old friends," Isabelle declared with finality, sinking down into a chair across from Diana's.

"You are Matthew's cousin?" Diana asked.

Isabelle nodded. "Yes. His father and my father are brothers. They were quite close for most of their lives. Until Matthew's father died, that is."

"From what I had learned, his father died quite some time ago…"

"Indeed," Isabelle said. But there was something about the look on her face…

"What is it?"

"It is nothing… But I know that Matthew can be quite harsh. He can be abrupt and brash and… well, I know that he has quite a reputation." Isabelle paused and looked at her, but Diana did not speak. "But there is much about Matthew that you do not know." Her tone was almost pleading now, and it intrigued Diana even further.

"What is it that I do not know? Something about his father?"

"In a way. It's just that… my uncle was…" Isabelle hesitated, but the grimace on her face revealed a great deal. "He was not a friendly man. Not to myself and John, and certainly not to Matthew. In fact, he was not friendly to anyone. He thought it a sign of weakness."

"Friendliness?"

"Friendliness. Kindness. Compassion. Love. Any kind of positive emotion. He felt it showed weakness and… well, no son of his was going to be thought of as weak."

"He taught Matthew to be this way."

Suddenly, a great deal about Matthew's behavior made sense. The way he was always so reserved and cold. The way that he refused to back down in an argument.

"He did. And I am sorry to say that when he died, my father did nothing to eradicate those tendencies. Rather, I believe he may have made them worse."

"I see," Diana replied, her mind whirling with all of this new information.

"So, you see," Isabelle continued, "Matthew is not the way he is because it is his nature. In fact, it is certainly not his nature to be that way. I remember the countless times he was punished for being too emotional or for showing too much compassion. It was his father who taught him how to appear cold and heartless."

"That may be the case, but when Matthew became an adult, he had the opportunity to change his ways and become a different person."

"Yes," Isabelle acknowledged, though she looked severely disappointed to have to do so. "But perhaps you could look past some of that and give him a chance. He will surprise you. Of that, I am sure."

"I will give him a chance, of course. I have no interest in judging him falsely. But he will have to earn anything beyond that."

"Of course," Isabelle agreed, looking much happier at the prospect. "And now, let's talk more about yourself. Come now, you have sisters, do you not? What is it like to have sisters? I've only ever had a brother, and it is most vexing."

"Well, having sisters is certainly vexing as well," Diana replied with a smile, thinking of some of the silliest things her sisters had done over the years.

"But you have fun together too, yes?"

"Oh yes, we had a great deal of fun together."

"Tell me something about living with sisters," Isabelle demanded.

Diana fell silent for a moment, trying to think of the best moment to capture her sisters' spirits and the fun they'd had together.

"When we were younger, we used to vex our nanny to no end. We would get up early in the morning and sneak out of our rooms before the nanny even woke up. And then we would sneak down to the kitchen to see Cook. She would be up, making breakfast. And she would whip up some sugar biscuits for us to pack up. They were always our favorite."

She smiled at the memory of those biscuits, and of the four of them gathering up all the biscuits in a sack and running out to hide in the stables, devouring one after the other.

"Would you ever go back inside?" Isabelle asked, her eyes sparkling at the mischief of it.

"Oh, eventually we would go back inside. Or we would be found hiding in the stalls. Father would be furious, of course. And our nanny as well. But that didn't stop us from doing it again and again. We would have the best times together…" Diana trailed off, remembering that all of those times were gone now.

"It sounds lovely," Isabelle said wistfully.

"And what about you? I'm sure you had a great many wonderful moments with your brother."

"Oh, we have always had a great deal of fun. The two of us and Matthew. But it is not the same as having sisters, I think."

"No, a brother is not the same as a sister," Diana agreed, thinking of all the times she and her sisters had engaged Philip in their play and how it had always been different. Even though they had fun, it just was not the same to have him join.

It was in the midst of her musing that the door opened again and Bess, one of the other maids, stepped forward with a large tray that she quickly passed over to Margaret.

"Tea time already?" Diana glanced at the clock, amazed to find out that so much time had passed while she laughed and spoke with Isabelle.

"Indeed, Your Grace," Bess replied, setting the things out.

"So," Isabelle began as the maid left the room and they each picked up their cups. "Just what do you think of Matthew?"

"Oh…" Diana paused, not sure just how much she should really say.

What would Isabelle say to Matthew if she were honest? And should she be honest with this lady, whom she'd only just met anyway? Even if she felt so close to Isabelle already?

"I know that he can be difficult," Isabelle added. "Quite difficult in some cases."

"It has… not been easy," Diana admitted.

Isabelle laughed. "That sounds like Matthew."

It made Diana feel a little easier as she smiled and continued. "He… does not like change. And he does not seem to like me at all."

"What makes you say that?" Isabelle asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"He ignores me for the most part. I see him very little. And when I do…"

Diana remembered their argument about the furniture. She had riled him some, and the little smile on her face must have broken through.

"What is it? What happened?" Isabelle asked, immediately interested.

Diana hesitated for a moment but then told her what had happened with the furniture. She wasn't entirely sure how Isabelle would react, but her loud laugh was certainly not what she had expected.

"Ah, you have bested him. No wonder I have not heard of it. But I did notice that dreadful green sofa is gone." Isabelle glanced around the room. "It does look much nicer in here."

"Thank you," Diana replied with a bright smile, both at Isabelle's laughter and approval.

"And so Matthew was certainly not pleased. But you won that one. That is something, for sure. He does not often lose. I certainly approve. He needs that. I think you shall be good for him."

"Matthew." Matthew glanced up sharply at the address.

He'd been in his study for the last hour and had been reviewing some of the decisions that he had made along with his uncle and John. But Isabelle did not often come into his study alone and unannounced.

John, on the other hand, would come here all the time to bother him. But Isabelle did not. And she also didn't tend to come and see him with such a serious look on her face.

"What is it?"

"It's about your wife."

"Is she ill?" he asked distractedly, glancing back down at his work.

Though Isabelle was unlikely to be the one to come and inform him if Diana was ill. Likely his wife's lady's maid would do that. Or perhaps Miss Jenkins if she were notified of it.

"No, Matthew. She's not ill. This is about taking care of your wife."

Immediately, he stiffened. So, Isabelle was going to be another person to tell him that he was treating his wife poorly and that she deserved better. His lips pressed into a thin line as he looked up slowly and waited for her to speak.

It wouldn't do to send her away, after all. She would speak her mind no matter what he said. It was best to get this thing over with, then.

"You've neglected that young lady badly. She is far from her home, and she knows no one here save her lady's maid. The poor dear doesn't have a friend in the world, and she's been torn from her family. And for what? To sit about this house all day and do nothing? She deserves better than that from you."

"Isabelle—" he started, but she frowned and shook her head.

"You are a better man than that, Matthew. You know how to treat guests, and yet you are treating your own wife as less than even an unwanted guest. Leaving her to fend for herself in this house with Miss Jenkins watching her every move."

"Isabelle—" he tried again, but she wasn't finished, and he knew it was best to let her get it all out.

"You need to listen to me," she ordered. "That girl needs someone to care about her. She needs you to care about her. About her well-being if nothing else. And that means taking an interest in your wife. It means making sure that she is comfortable here because she is going to be here for a very long time. Unless you mean to divorce her."

His eyes widened with surprise at her boldness.

"Of course not," he retorted.

Isabelle gave a sharp nod of her head. "I am glad we agree on that."

She seemed to assume that the entire matter was settled, staring at him for a long time until he sighed and gave a short nod of his own.

"Very well. I will do what I can," he relented.

That seemed to appease his cousin. "Excellent."

But then she stood there and stared at him still.

"What is it now, Isabelle?"

"When do you plan to get started?"

"I have work to do," he told her, but she still didn't move. He sighed, flipping his ledger shut. "You wish me to go to her now?"

"That's an excellent idea, Matthew," she replied.

Matthew couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. He stood up and waited for Isabelle to step out ahead of him, before he left his study. Once in the hall, he glanced around him, trying to determine just where Diana might be at this time of day.

Isabelle was right, of course. Diana was his wife. And even if he ignored that fact, she was a guest in his home, and it fell to him to make her stay here as comfortable as possible. To ensure that she was at least content here.

He was not about to turn her out, and, as Isabelle said, if his intention was for Diana to stay with him, he would need to make some changes.

As he strode down the hall, he was not quite sure what he would do. How he would broach any form of conversation with Diana. After all, he had not done so before. When he found her in the sitting room, he paused for a moment in the doorway before she looked up and saw him.

"Is there something you need, Duke?" she asked, staring up at him with an almost suspicious expression.

He glanced around the room again, and his gaze fell on the artwork there.

"What is this?" he asked, striding toward it.

She paused for a moment and then slowly walked over to him. "It is a watercolor from my sister." Another pause and then she added, "It is one of Valery's. A little knoll near the estate where we loved to ride."

"It is well done," he acknowledged.

Her eyes darted to his face in surprise. "Thank you."

"And this one?" He moved toward another painting.

Again, Diana stared at him in confusion, but then she followed him.

"This one is from Arabella. The sunrise, she said. I always loved the colors here. And the way she blended them."

Again, he gave a short nod and moved around the room.

At this point, Diana seemed to realize what he was doing, following him as he studied the paintings.

"This one is another of Arabella's."

When they had finished studying the paintings in the room, he strode out without a word. But she seemed to realize that he wanted her to follow him, so she fell into step with him.

Again, he stopped at the first painting along the way, and she looked at it with a soft smile.

"This is one of Valery's as well. One of the early ones she did, but she was a natural from the start."

"It does look nice," he admitted, and she looked even more startled.

"I have always been so proud of the way she painted this one. And as she continued to get better. She is always so pleased when she is painting. She loves it."

"These paintings are quite good. And… they do improve the look of the place."

Diana seemed even more surprised by that, but she also seemed pleased. A tinge of satisfaction shot through him upon seeing the sparkle in her eyes.

Quickly, he shook it off and moved to yet another painting. "Now… what about this one?"

"Oh… this is…" She paused, and he turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised.

This painting was definitely not on the same level as the others they had looked at.

"It is… well, I don't really know. I-I never asked Arabella what this one was about."

"And yet you included it here." Matthew raised an eyebrow at her again.

"Well, I was…"

"You were looking to fill in space."

At first, he could see the way she bristled, pulling herself up to her full height, her eyes sharp, but then she looked at him and seemed to see something there. Because she relaxed, and her lips curled into a reluctant smile.

"Perhaps," she admitted.

"Is this something that we really need to have on our walls?" he asked, trying to remain as objective and gentle as possible.

Diana seemed to notice because she didn't get mad. Rather, she just stared at the painting.

"Arabella was never… well, she wasn't a natural like Valery. But she enjoyed painting. So, this is one of her early ones."

"I do not think it is… quite right for this space, do you?" Matthew was trying to be as tactful as possible, which was new for him, and she seemed to realize it as well.

"It is one of her earliest paintings," Diana argued, though she did not seem angry with him even now. "I have actually had this one hung in my rooms ever since she painted it. And for years, I have told her it was my favorite."

"Why is that?" he asked, trying to make sense of the swirls of color and globs of paint that were splattered across the canvas.

"Because she loved to paint. And she wanted so badly to paint the way Valery did. So I encouraged her as much as I possibly could. I would tell her that her paintings were wonderful, and I would show them off just like Valery's. And I would encourage her to keep trying and never give up."

"And did that work?"

"Arabella still enjoys painting to this day," Diana replied proudly. "And she has gotten better at it, as you've seen with the other paintings." She paused for a moment, but Matthew could tell she had something else to say. "And it was not just Arabella with her painting. It was Valery with her piano. And Marigold with her embroidery. And all three of them struggled with riding for some time. But I encouraged them to try. Encouraged them to keep trying when they weren't good at something. I would not have them give up on something they were not immediately good at for lack of support."

"And so you gave them the support they needed."

"Our mother… she was not the sort to encourage them when they needed it," she admitted. "And so it was my responsibility to support them. To ensure that they felt… capable. No matter how good"—she glanced at the painting and smiled softly—"or not so good they were."

There was something about that smile, that soft look, that seemed to change something inside him.

"My father was not supportive either," Matthew admitted, though he couldn't look at her when he said it. In fact, he wasn't entirely certain why he said it. "He felt that… you had to earn any praise you might receive. And just because you tried something didn't mean you had earned anything."

It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way many times.

"He felt that the only thing that mattered was winning. And if you didn't win, you might as well not try."

"That's a very sad way to raise a child. Your mother didn't help you?"

"She tried… a few times," he replied. "But there was no one that could stop my father from getting what he wanted. My uncle, though, he was there for me whenever things with my father got… too intense. And there was always Isabelle and John."

"You were very close to them?"

"I was," he agreed. "My uncle was my father's biggest supporter and helped him a great deal. And so John and Isabelle were here a lot. We practically grew up together. It's why we're still close today."

"I am glad that you had such wonderful cousins to support you. And sorry for the way that your father treated you."

Matthew looked up sharply at that, startled by the sadness and compassion in Diana's eyes and voice.

And he realized just what he had revealed to her.

He quickly straightened up and glanced down the hall. "I have things I must attend to," he told her, striding purposefully down the hall and very intentionally avoiding looking in her direction again.

Diana stormed into her bedroom, flinging herself into the nearest chair.

Margaret raised an eyebrow at her. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"I thought we were getting somewhere. That we were actually making progress. And then… he just walks away and ignores me," Diana replied bitterly.

"I assume that we are speaking of His Grace."

"Indeed," she huffed.

"Come then, why don't you tell me what happened, and we shall decide what to do next."

"We were talking about the paintings on the walls, and things were going well. I told him a little about my childhood, and he opened up about his own. And then he simply walked away."

"Did he give a reason for his abrupt departure?"

"He said he had things to attend to."

"And perhaps he did. Running a duchy, especially from town, is not easy, I am sure."

"You did not see the way he fled—No, he was running away."

"Didn't Lady Isabelle tell you that he was wary of feelings and emotion? Perhaps opening up to you was too much for him."

"But we will never get anywhere if he does not learn to get used to that."

"Perhaps not, but you have made strides today, and that is important."

Diana huffed indignantly and sank further into her chair.

"Ah, well, if you are determined to be cross, at least be useful," Margaret told her, handing over the ball of yarn she was working with for her current project.

Reluctantly, Diana began to assist her, though her mind continued to wander to just what Matthew was doing and whether he was replaying their conversation in his head as well.

For the next several days, she did not see him. Or if she did, it was a brief glimpse as he walked from one room to another or made his way from the kitchens to the study again.

And yet he did not look her way during any of those occasions, though he must have known that she was there. That she saw him.

"Instead, he purposely ignores me," she complained to Margaret. "And I thought we had made some progress with our previous conversation. But it seems to have been for naught."

"Perhaps you should initiate a conversation. Speak to him instead of waiting for him to speak to you," Margaret suggested.

Diana hesitated, but the next time she passed him in the hall, she took her chance.

"Have you had a good tea?"

Matthew looked up in surprise. "I have, thank you," he replied slowly, though his voice was not quite as stiff and formal as usual. Perhaps because he had been startled by her question. "And you?"

"Oh, the tea was just fine. However, I must say, there is nothing that can beat my cook's pastries. I do miss those."

She gave him a smile, even though she was unsure how he would react. And she was unsure if she even wished to be friendly with him.

He did not smile in return. However, he did nod slightly and then continued on his way.

And the next time she saw him, she spoke to him once more, seeking… something. Anything to acknowledge that there had been a change in their relationship. A change of any kind.

"Shall you be going out today?" she ventured as she saw him in the halls yet again. And again he paused, staring at her for a moment before answering.

"I do not expect to be going out today." For a moment he said nothing and then, "Shall you being going out?"

"I expect to go riding this morning. The weather is so fair."

He glanced out the window to their side with a slight nod. "It looks to remain so for the morn at least."

"Excellent. I hope to ride a bit down the lanes."

Again another pause and then he looked back at her again. "Through the park is excellent riding this time of year. You'll see the gardens to better effect."

Her surprise was likely evident at the way he offered the information but he seemed not to be finished either.

"But take Magnolia rather than Celeste," did he know what horse she rode when she went out? "Magnolia does better in the park where there could be dogs and such."

"I will speak to the grooms," she agreed, and he gave a sharp nod but seemed unsure what to say next.

"I shall return to my study." With that he strode away, though he stopped a few steps away and turned back to her, "have a good ride. Perhaps you can enjoy the weather for the both of us." There was almost a hint of a smile as he glanced at her and then he was gone and she was left wondering if she had imagined it.

Things had changed. Whether he wanted or not.

The fact that he had opened up to her so much and that she now spoke to him when she saw him in the halls had to mean something, didn't it?

The next morning, when he was ready for breakfast he hesitated to go straight to his study.

For longer than he had been married he had often gone directly to the study in the morning and had taken his breakfast there. But something told him that he should go downstairs.

Perhaps he should take the opportunity to eat breakfast with his wife. Would she expect it? Had she been expecting him to be there all this time and he had not?

"Henry, I shall take my breakfast in the dining hall," he instructed and the valet bowed and acknowledged his request before leaving the room.

Within only a few minutes he was striding down the hall himself, sitting at the table and wondering if she would come.

But it seemed he was mistaken on that front as well. Because she did not come. And according to the servant who brought him his own breakfast, the mistress preferred to take her breakfast in her own rooms.

"Has she always done that?"

"She came to breakfast for a few days, Your Grace," the man replied, "but she has since taken to eating in her own rooms. Her maid comes to the kitchen to collect a tray of breakfast for her most mornings."

"Very well," he replied, feeling somewhat foolish that he had even attempted such a thing. To even come down here … well, there was no reason for it. He could just as well have eaten his own breakfast in private as well.

But when he saw her later he could not help commenting.

"I did not see you at breakfast."

"I have not seen you at breakfast since I arrived," she replied and he acknowledged that with an incline of his head.

"I had not considered that you may wish for a companion at the table," he replied and the look on her face grew somewhat serious though he could not quite decipher it.

"I have been eating breakfast in my rooms with Margaret," she replied finally.

"Margaret is …" he did not think he knew the woman she referred to, but then again he knew that she had come with a single lady's maid from her home.

"My ladies' maid. We have our breakfast together when we eat in my rooms." The way she held her head and the look in her eye said she was waiting for him to challenge her on this. Perhaps comment on the propriety of eating with her lady's maid but he had no qualms with it, save that it meant she did not come down to breakfast.

"Shall you be down for lunch?" he asked, trying to find something that they could converse on, but it was obvious he had none of the conversational skills that his cousins did. John would have had no trouble with having someone new in his household. Isabelle perhaps even less. But for Matthew …

"I shall," she agreed and he nodded yet again, determining what else he should say, but in the end he simply turned and hurried away.

Still, he found himself wanting to speak with her, though he had no idea just what he would say if he did.

In the end, it was inane things. Like commenting on the weather when they would pass in the hall. Or even just nodding in acknowledgement when she passed.

Even still, he found himself wanting to do more.

And so Matthew sent for his valet. "Send someone to Waterburry House to learn more about the Duchess."

"Your Grace?" Henry turned toward him with a confused look.

"I want to know what her favorite foods are and what she enjoys doing. Tell the man you send to learn whatever he can discreetly. I'll not have it talked about all over London."

"Of course, Your Grace," Henry replied with a short bow before leaving the room.

That would handle it, then. And in a short time, it did.

Within two days, the man had returned with not only information but recipes as well, which Matthew passed on to his cook immediately so that for supper that night, they could have one of Diana's favorite dishes.

And then he sent her a formal invitation to dinner, which she accepted.

Though if he were being honest, it would have been difficult for her to decline the invitation. But it had still seemed the proper way. And now, it was no matter, because she was there, at the table, when he arrived, and she seemed to be reserving judgment as she looked up at him with a strange expression on her face.

"How have you found the house?" he managed to ask. , catching the frown from his cook as she glanced in at them from the doorway.

"It is lovely," Diana replied, but there was nothing in her voice that suggested that she really found it so.

It was a platitude that people said, and he knew it. But he was determined to get something out of her. He'd dealt with more stubborn businessmen, after all.

"And how have you amused yourself since arriving?"

"I haven't," was her reply as she met his gaze steadily.

Matthew hadn't been prepared for such blatant honesty. Though he knew she had been bored since she had arrived and hadn't been engaging in much of anything, save for redecorating his house, he had expected her to say something. Still, the fact that she was being completely honest with him about her unhappiness was somewhat refreshing.

It also made things difficult because he was unsure what to say next.

"I am sorry that you have not found my home to your liking. Is there something you would like to engage in that I can assist you with?"

She tilted her head to the side as if appraising him. "I believe not, Duke."

At that moment, dessert was brought to the table, and she seemed even more startled as she looked down at it.

"What is this?" she asked.

Matthew paused for a moment, looking down at the dish himself.

"Victoria sponge, with raspberry jam," the man announced. "And a little extra sugar."

He set the sugar pot on the table and walked back out, leaving Diana to stare at it and then up at Matthew with confusion and no small amount of surprise.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if she would find the truth endearing or if she would be unhappy about his checking up on her. And especially about his speaking to her own servants about her.

"I want you to feel at home. Because this is your home," he told her, by way of explanation. "I sent someone to Waterburry House to speak with your cook, and they brought back a few recipes. Including this one. And the sugar biscuits that you were served with tea this afternoon."

There was that unreadable expression on her face yet again as she stared at him for a long period. So long, in fact, that he felt slightly uncomfortable. But he held her gaze, and suddenly her entire body seemed to relax. The tension left her shoulders, her lips quirked up.

"I am much obliged, Duke," she told him.

Matthew hesitated but felt… compelled to continue speaking.

"Your servants seem to care for you a great deal."

"I am glad to hear it," she replied with a smile.

"They were very helpful in informing me of the things you liked best. And your cook was very anxious to make things as comfortable as possible for you. Starting with sugar biscuits for your tea."

"I did very much appreciate those. It has been far too long since I have had them, and I have missed them a great deal more than I thought I would."

She let out a short laugh, and the sound… it seemed to reverberate in his head, making his heart clench slightly.

"We have also got the recipe. I will ensure that Cook bakes some to have with your tea from now on."

"I would greatly appreciate it, Duke. However, I am sure your cook has better things to do than learn a new recipe just for me."

"I confess, I am intrigued by the idea as well. And perhaps Cook could replace one of the other pastries with our tea. I would rather you have the ones you like best."

Diana flushed slightly, and he quickly looked down at his plate, eating his own dessert.

"And what do you think of tonight's dinner, Duke?"

"It is Matthew, remember," he chided gently.

Diana hesitated before smiling at him slightly and nodding.

"I was pleasantly surprised with the dishes that we had tonight. And I must say that I shall inform Ms. Willten to keep them."

"Ms. Willten?" Diana repeated, her eyes narrowed slightly.

Matthew found the look… endearing. Something about it made him want to smile and reach forward to smooth the furrow between her eyebrows.

"My cook."

"Oh. I have been here quite some time already and had not had the pleasure of meeting her. I have attempted to venture to the kitchens on a few occasions, but… Miss Jenkins seems to prefer that I do not."

Now it was Matthew's turn to frown. "Has she kept you from the other servants?"

"Some of them, it seems."

"That was not my ," he replied. "And Ms. Willten is someone you should certainly meet. She has been here a great many years. And she is more than happy to add your favorite dishes to the ones that we make here. She was most anxious to ensure you felt at home here."

The silence felt somewhat deafening after his admission and he wondered if he had said too much. Perhaps he should have remained silent himself. He picked up his fork to resume eating instead, keeping his gaze on his plate rather than on her.

"There's nothing for me to do here," Diana admitted after a pause. "Your home runs smoothly, Duke—Matthew, far more so than mine did. And I'm not involved in its management. And I have no other things to do."

Matthew considered her response for a long moment and then voiced a thought that had only just occurred to him. "This house is somewhat small, and I had thought… perhaps now would be a good time to look for something larger. Would you care to join me? And perhaps you may have a say in decorating it."

"A say?" she echoed, that small smile widening a little.

His heart swelled at the thought that he coaxed that smile from her. That he made her happy.

"Let us not get too ahead of ourselves, Diana. Having a say in things is enough. Need I remind you that you have already taken over the decorating of this house? And some of your choices have been… questionable, to say the least." But he, too, smiled as he said it, and for once he didn't allow his father's words, the ones that continued to echo in his head, to bother him in the slightest.

"A new house, Margaret! He wishes us to select a new house together. It is … well, it is most exciting." She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice if she wanted to and Margaret smiled in acknowledgement of it.

"It shall be exciting, My Lady. And you shall have a say in the choosing of it."

"And in the decorating of it as well," she announced. "He has already said so."

"Have you an idea of what you shall look for in a house?"

"Oh … I am sure that he shall select the houses that we will look at and I shall hope that one of them will suffice for what I prefer."

"If he has asked you to accompany him in looking at houses then surely he is interested in your opinion on the matter. He would not have asked otherwise."

"Indeed," Diana agreed, but she wondered. Had he asked her to accompany him because he truly valued her opinion? Because he wanted her to have a say? Or was he simply trying to make her … well … she couldn't think of another reason that he would invite her.

"If he did not wish for your opinion, My Lady, he would have chosen a new home on his own."

"Yes. Yes, he would have," Diana agreed, her smile returning as she considered it. The fact that he had asked meant something. And since there was no reason for him to ask but to have her opinion that had to be it. And hadn't he said he wanted her to have a say in the decorating?

"Perhaps he is coming around more than you think."

"Perhaps, though if he is it is still quite slow."

"He is not known for being a very open and trusting sort," Margaret warned and she had to admit that was also true.

The things they had read in the scandal sheet prior to her betrothal … well, those certainly gave voice to the idea that he was not a friendly soul.

But then there was Isabelle. Isabelle who seemed absolutely convinced that he was a good person. A kind person. Someone that she could be happier to be wed to.

And hadn't she seen signs of that herself?

"Are you all right, My Lady?"

"Just … thinking. There is a great deal to consider about my husband, after all."

"Are you pleased?"

"With my husband? I do not know that I would say I am pleased as yet. I would say that he has proven to be a sight better than I had resigned myself to. But there is a long way to go before I shall say that I am truly pleased with my choice."

But then … as she considered all of the little things that he had done since she had arrived … perhaps it was not so far removed as all that. Perhaps there was a greater chance of her being pleased with him than she thought.

After all, he had sent someone all the way to Waterburry House just to find out her favorite foods. And he was set to add those foods to their own usual meals here as well, on purpose just to please her.

"Why do things have to be so complicated?" She asked Margaret who simply laughed.

"Ah, life is always quite complicated, My Lady. And having a husband … well, that shall certainly be complicated as well. Especially one as … trying as His Grace can be."

Even as she acknowledged Margaret's words she vowed to herself that she was going to be more open to whatever strides he seemed to be making. No mater how small they might seem.