Chapter Thirteen

Rowan tossed the ledger at which he had been staring for two whole hours to the side, ignoring as it teetered on the edge of the desk and nearly toppled to the floor. It had been a long day of trying to organize the affairs of the household for the month and create invoices for his business ventures and failing to concentrate on any specific task for more than a moment or two.

Truthfully, though, he had simply used the work as an excuse to isolate himself and avoid seeing anyone all day. He even went as far as to have his dinner tray brought to him there in the study, ordering that it be left outside the door for him to retrieve when he was ready so that he did not have to see so much as a servant.

More than ever, Rowan couldn't stop thinking about his strained relationship with his mother. He had expected some reluctance from her to accept his decision to marry so suddenly, and even hesitation on the dowager's part in accepting Serena as her successor for the title of duchess. But she had not even spoken to him, not until she mentioned throwing a ball in Serena's honor. He was glad to see that his mother was warming up to Serena. But would she ever warm up to her own son again?

He thought also about his final moments with his father, and the unspoken vow it had led him to make. His mother's clear, continued persecution of him regarding the untimely death of the late duke had made it easy enough for him to keep the promise to focus on nothing but his ducal responsibilities. After all, if his mother did not wish to see or speak to him, he was hardly losing time by spending all his time tending to his duties and, now that he had married Serena, seeing to and taking care of his wife.

A knock on the door caused Rowan to jump in his chair. He sighed, knowing it had to be the dowager, come to lecture him about missing dinner yet again. He expected an additional tongue lashing because he had missed his first dinner with his new wife as well as her. Bracing himself, he cleared his throat, quickly pouring a drink.

"Come in," he called, sipping his whiskey as fast as he could as the door opened. As he expected, it was his mother. However, her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and determination, rather than the cold anger he had expected to see. He set aside his glass, gesturing for her to take one of the seats across from him. She approached the desk and sat, but she didn't look as though she intended to stay long, sitting on the edge rather than sitting back as he was doing.

"I only need a few minutes," she said. "But I need you to hear me and hear me well."

Rowan studied her face, trying to find any sign of irritation or malice. It was the first time she had not seemed completely resistant to the notion of speaking to him in as long as he could remember. And yet, the longer he looked at her, the more worry, and the less hostility, he saw.

"Very well," he said, sitting up to lean forward on his desk. "You have my full attention."

The dowager nodded, smoothing her hair with her hand before continuing.

"I know that you hold secrets, Rowan," she said. "I have always suspected as much, and it was made glaringly clear when you chose to hide your wedding from me, rather than telling me anything of your plans. And while I cannot say that I am happy about you keeping things from me, I can say that I understand why."

Rowan stared at his mother, dumbfounded. What had prompted her to suddenly start speaking to him again after eight years?

"Oh?" was all he could think to say.

The dowager nodded. She seemed to understand that she had surprised him, as she offered him a weak smile.

"I know that you have been keeping things from me because of the tension between us since your father died. I regret my part in that tension, and it is something I wish for us to work on. But right now, there is something else important that you need to hear."

Rowan's shock grew by the second. He nodded dumbly, looking at his mother in awe.

"Oh?" he said again. He wished he could think of something else to say at such a pivotal time. But he had been so caught off guard that he couldn't think of a single word he'd longed to say to her.

His mother nodded again, giving him another warm smile.

"You need to not shut out Serena the way you did me, darling," she said. "She is the woman you chose to marry, and the last thing you need to do is alienate her."

Rowan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Serena was whom he had chosen, that much was true. But he had chosen her out of duty, not out of any genuine desire to build a bond, or a life, with her. He was not ready to divulge that to his mother. But nor was he ready to agree to what his mother was saying.

"Mother," he said, not knowing what he would say afterward. But the dowager spared him, holding up her hand gently.

"In the short time I have spent observing, and speaking to, Serena, I have found her to be a lovely young woman. She is full of life and spirit, and she clearly wants to accept her new roles with open arms. But I fear that if you do not open up to her and make changes to the way you are handling things with her, you will slowly extinguish her spirit, leaving the poor girl a mere shadow of herself."

Rowan took a deep breath. It seemed there was no shortage of surprises when it came to the dowager, at least for that moment. She had broken their eight-year-long streak of speaking less than ten words per day to each other to advise Rowan on his new bride. Not only that, she seemed genuinely concerned about his marriage, and about Serena, as well. He might have expected such involvement if she had known and liked his wife before Rowan married her. But since she had been cold and distant to Serena until that morning, it came as the biggest surprise of all that she would include Serena in her worries.

And yet, despite the boldness of his mother's words, he knew she was right. Serena was a lively young lady. He had witnessed her glow at her debut ball, and even he had found her company to be somewhat enjoyable, even though his behavior had intentionally projected the contrary. Even in that moment, he could not deny that his biggest discomfort around her was the sense of duty he felt at being her husband. He could never get too close to her, of that he was certain. But perhaps, he could do something to prevent her from being too stifled in her new roles as duchess, and as his wife.

Only when his chest began to ache did he realize he had been holding the breath he had drawn. He let it out, struggling through his thoughts to find a response to his mother. She, however, did not give him the chance to speak. She rose from her seat and headed for the door with purposeful strides. She reached for the handle, and Rowan waited for the door to swing open and her to make her exit. But she paused, her hand outstretched and turned to face her son once more.

"Please, darling," she said, the urgency in her voice more sincere than he had heard in years. "Think carefully about what I have said to you. I know it may not seem like it, but I truly do care about your well-being. I do not know if you and Serena will be a match of passionate love. But I do know that you have a chance for true happiness, if you will only reach out and claim it. But if you do not, it will slip through your fingers. You must act and try to make something of the situation. I am certain that Serena wants that. And I believe that some part of you does, as well."

With that, the dowager finally left Rowan alone with his thoughts once more. His thoughts and emotions were in utter turmoil, both facets combatting for his complete attention. That was the most his mother had spoken to him in years, and it was a reminder of her innate wisdom. There was not a single word she had spoken that was untrue, and Rowan was sure of that. But his emotions were so carefully guarded that he did not think he could give Serena proper attention, even though she did deserve it.

Leaning back in his chair, Rowan sighed, his eyes locking with those of his father in the portrait hanging above the mantle across the desk. The late duke's features, which were so similar to his own, stared back at him, reminding him of the man who had raised him for the position he now held. Positions, I suppose, he amended as he realized that he was now a husband, in addition to being a duke. He had admired his father, and desperately sought his approval. Even though he had been so against marriage, he had still wanted his father to be proud of him.

Yet now, all that remained of their relationship were the memories of their final argument, and the final vow that haunted Rowan's waking hours, as well as his dreams most nights. Between his mother's words and his father's shrewd gaze, he knew that he needed to do something to fill the void that currently separated him from Serena. But the idea of letting her get close enough to see all the agony and burdens that weighed down his soul filled him with a fear he had never known before. Would he ever be able to do right by his wife? Or had he condemned her to a lifetime of suffering, as he did?