Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

I n spite of all his flaws, Diana knew that what her father had done was quite shocking indeed, and she was unsure how to tell the Duke.

Under normal circumstances, it would no longer be of any concern to them. She was married now, and therefore it did not matter what happened to her father's title and land and estate. However, she had to concern herself with Samantha's well-being, for nobody else would.

"It turns out that my father truly has been trying to better himself," she began, not knowing how else to start.

"Well, that is a good thing, is it not?"

"It would be, had it been for a good reason. Then again, his reason seems perfectly good to him."

"And what might said reason be? I had thought it was for the benefit of yourself and your sister, or at least to line his pockets a little more."

"It is the latter, in some ways, but that is not the full story either. As it turns out, he has a son. I have a brother. A half-brother, that is."

"That's… Are we seeing it as good news or bad news?"

"I do not know. All I know is that my father has an heir, a legitimate one at that, as he married a lady in Scotland, and now he wishes to become the very best father in all of England, but only for his son."

"I cannot stand that man."

"Truthfully, nor can I, but regardless of his motives, it has been quite beneficial to Samantha, so I have not said anything about it. She is furious, however."

"And that is equally understandable. After all, he should have done all of this years ago, not only now that he has a son."

If anything, Diana thought, at least her husband would be a good father to a daughter should they ever have one.

"It is alright. It hardly changes anything, of course. But it is on my mind. That is why I am perhaps acting differently than usual."

"Why you were seemingly determined to submit to me last night?"

"I suppose you could say that." She laughed. "I know, it was not like me at all, but it has frightened me to learn about it, you know. I at least thought that my father would have told us when he found out. I thought that he would have been so excited that we would have had no choice but to hear of it over and over."

"It is certainly odd that he never told the two of you, I am assuming until you asked."

"Astute and correct as always," she sighed. "And even then I had to force his hand. I do not understand. What is so wrong with Samantha and me? I know that I am not particularly brilliant and beautiful and wonderful, and I never found a husband myself, but Samantha should have at least been worthy of something."

"I am only going to tell you this once more," Colin said firmly, leaning in closely. "The treatment that that man has given to you and your sister is no reflection of you. It has everything to do with him and how foolish he is. You are both brilliant ladies with good hearts."

"Then why couldn't we ever be enough to earn his love?" she whispered.

"Love is not earned. Love is given freely and fully and selflessly. If he can only give that to an heir, then it is not even love in that case, as it is given out of the knowledge that he gains something in return."

Diana thought about his words. She had spent her whole life wondering if she would ever receive love, but she had failed to realize that she and her sister had always been so full of it for each other. It hardly even mattered whether her father came into it or not.

"I simply do not understand."

"And perhaps you never will. Perhaps I never fully will. Why, when I was in the military, my commander could hardly ever give us a good word, and we were willing to put our lives at risk for him."

"You… you were in the military?"

He froze, his smile fading.

"Colin?" she asked. "You have never told me that."

"It is nothing," he said quickly. "Forget that I said anything."

"But it is clearly something that you are thinking about."

"It is not. I do not wish to talk about it, and I would appreciate it if you could respect that."

Diana did respect his wish, of course, but that did not make it any easier to pretend he had not revealed such information to her.

"Of course." She nodded.

"Thank you. Now, if you are not completely worn out from your tour this morning, might you be interested in a second tour given by me? I can tell you some more personal aspects of the house, rather than the facts and figures that you were no doubt given before."

"There was certainly a good amount of them, yes." She grimaced. "And you mustn't tell her, but I do not remember a good amount of them. I was far too tired for it to sink in properly."

"My lips are sealed," he promised. "In that case, it will be good for you to go around a second time."

They finished their tea, and then she was quickly whisked away through the house once more. It was vast, though a little outdated in terms of style. Diana did not mind that at all, of course, as her last home had been much the same whilst also being very small, indeed.

There would be a lot for her to tend to each day, even with all of the help that was there. It was quite daunting, but having raised Samantha, she was quite sure that she could take on such a role. Then they passed by a door, and Colin did not open it.

"What is that one?" she asked, pausing by the door.

Her husband seemed uncomfortable at the mere sight of it.

"It is nothing. I believe it is for storage."

But Diana was not simple. She knew that the expression on his face meant that there was something inside. She raised an eyebrow at him, and when he motioned for her to follow him, she refused, her feet planted firmly where they were.

"Come along," Colin said firmly, but she remained still.

"If it is for storage, I ought to know what is inside," she argued. "It is for me to tend to, is it not?"

"It is of no concern to you."

"I thought this was my home in the same way that it is yours."

"It is, but there are some things that are not for you to see."

"Not in a home that is mine, there is not."

"Diana—"

"Colin."

"Can you please not argue with me on this?"

"I thought you did not want a wife that simpered and did as she was told?" she pointed out. "Besides, I told you what was troubling me. Then you refused to tell me the same for you, and now here you are, doing it again. This is unfair, and you know it is."

"It is completely different."

"How?"

"I do not need to explain myself to you."

"Yes, you do. I am your wife."

"And sometimes husbands know things that they cannot tell their wives."

"So you are hiding something from me?"

"Please stop doing this."

"No. I have entered into this marriage with the belief that you trust me and wish to be a friend to me, not that you will lie to me and keep secrets from me."

She reached for the handle, but it was locked.

"Why did you do that?" he snapped at her.

"Because this is my home."

"Perhaps, but that room is of none of your concern. I told you to leave it be, now leave it be. Why must you make things so difficult? Do you do it deliberately?"

Diana felt a chill run down her spine, and tears pricked her eyes.

She had lived her life being seen as a burden, as difficult. All her life, she had told herself it was only her father who saw her that way, and that it was not the truth, but there it was, all of the proof that she had needed.

The Duke had thought the same of her, and it had taken a single dispute for his hatred to surface. She turned on her heel and began to walk away.

"Diana, wait," Colin called after her, following her. "Diana, please, I did not mean it like that."

"Do not insult me twice." She laughed emptily, turning to look at him. "There is no other way that you could have meant it."

He seemed to regret it, but that was of no matter to her.

"Please don't walk away. We can talk about this."

"If the only time you are willing to talk to me is after you have hurt me, then I do not wish to talk to you at all. I suppose that is further proof of my difficulty, yes?"

"Diana—"

"No. I asked you to talk to me, to explain, and you have refused. If that is the end of the matter, then that is that. I can handle that. What I cannot tolerate, and what I will not tolerate, is you promising me one thing and then doing the opposite. At least my father was predictable."

"Do not compare me to that man."

"Then do not act like him."

"I am not?—"

But he seemed to catch himself and quietened.

With a nod, Diana turned back and walked away, and this time he did not call for her to come back.

She wondered what could have been so terrible about that room that he did not allow her to look inside, and then her mind went to the one place that it hadn't been in a long time.

The rumors about him.

Surely, she thought, the Duke was not so foolish that even if he was guilty, he would leave evidence so brazenly easy to access? If there was anything to hide, it would not be in a room he shared with his wife, would it?

Regardless, she wished to see inside, and no matter what was inside, she felt as though she had a right to.

Unfortunately for the Duke, she was not easily dissuaded when she wanted something. It was a trait of hers that was only aided by the fact that she had already met the housekeeper.

"Miss Thornton," she asked politely later that afternoon, seeing her alone, "I was wandering the halls when I found a room that you did not show me. The door was locked, and so I was hoping you might show me inside?"

"Ah, you mean… that room. The Duke does not allow that room to be opened."

In spite of how much she wished not to think of the rumors about her husband, she couldn't help but let them cross her mind once more. Had he truly committed some grisly murder and hidden something in his home? Of course not, she told herself.

"The Duke has said I could look," she lied. "He said that it is my home as much as it is his, and so I have a right to see."

She surprised herself with how easily she lied. It was not something that she was any good at unless it was to protect someone else, but as it happened, she was discovering more about herself than she had once known.

"Is that so?" Miss Thornton asked, an eyebrow raised. "Perhaps I should ask him."

"There is no need," Diana replied calmly. "He is taking care of a few things. I am the lady of this household, and so there is no requirement for the Duke to know about how it is run. That is correct, is it not?"

Miss Thornton eyed her carefully. "I suppose it is," she said carefully. "Very well. Follow me."

Diana was sure that she would eventually have her secret discovered, and it frightened her, but she needed to know. If there was to be some dark secret hidden within the walls of her home, she needed to know so that she could escape. It was a prospect that she was not fond of, having to return to her father, but if it was necessary, then she would do so. Not only that, but it would mean that she had saved her sister from a truly terrible fate, one far worse than simply marriage.

And if there was no secret, then she could grovel and hope he understood. After all, there was nothing he could do now that they were married.

She hated that she had thought that.

"Now," Miss Thornton sighed as she put the key in the lock. "It may be in disrepair. It has not been opened in a long time. If it is not to your liking, then we can lock it once more and pretend we never saw it. That is likely preferable regardless."

Miss Thornton clearly knew that Diana was not being honest with her, and was simply not going to argue with the lady of the house, but that only worked more in Diana's favor. They could forget all about it once she had seen it inside. That was most favorable, indeed.

"Thank you." She nodded, placing her hand on the handle once more.

It was not too late. She could walk away, pretend it was all some joke and that she would never disobey her husband. She could find Colin and tell him she understood that he had his secrets and that she would not pry, but that was simply not her nature. She wanted to know. She needed to know.

And so she opened the door.

Whatever she was expecting to see, it certainly was not a pile of books on a desk. She looked around, and there were more books. There was a thick smell of old paper and dust but in a soothing way. It was homely, almost welcoming, but she felt as though she had walked in on something intimate. She was out of place.

She had betrayed her husband, expecting the worst of him, but rather than run to apologize to him, she thought of how wonderful the library was, and how much Samantha would like it.

It was as Miss Thornton said, they would walk away and nobody would need to know she had ever been inside.

It was better that way.