Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

W hatever the Duke's reason, Diana wanted to know why he was being so strange about the situation, and so she would do what was necessary to find out, even if it destroyed the friendship that they had built so far.

She had tried to push her thoughts about him away since they had met. The rumors were ignored, the way he found her and Samantha was accepted, his proposal of a marriage of convenience was agreed to without too much question, and yet whenever she asked him about himself, he shut himself off to her completely, as if he did not trust her, the one thing that he had asked her to do for him.

In a way, Diana was thankful that he had been so unkind. He had proven her right, that he could not be trusted, and that she was not in the wrong for refusing to believe that he would take care of her. She would have been happy with herself if his attitude did not make her so miserable.

The household had changed immediately, as if the sun stopped at the front door and there was only thunder inside. The stormy Duke had not locked himself away, instead walking around the house with a book in his hand. Diana wanted to be mature. She wanted to give him space and speak with him afterwards, but she could not help herself.

"You know, Your Grace," she called as she passed him, "books are typically read in libraries."

"Then it is a shame that my house does not have one."

Diana pretended not to care that their house had so quickly become only his.

"And why is that?" she snapped.

"Why is it a shame? Because now I have nowhere to read this book without being pestered. I do not take kindly to my day being interrupted, and you would know that if you ever listened to me. I enjoy quiet at times, and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Then why is there no library if you wish to read quietly? There are plenty of rooms that could be one."

"That is none of your concern. You are only holidaying here, aren't you?"

"I can ask you whatever I like, as I can trust you, can I not?"

But he kept walking, no longer acknowledging her.

"I shall take that as a no, then," she called out.

"You may take it as you wish. I do not care to argue with you."

Diana huffed, going outside to take some air.

It was as though he had changed in seconds, and a part of her wanted to understand why. She knew that he had asked her not to press the matter and that she had agreed not to, but that did not change the matter of his temper. He had begun to treat her as he did mothers in ballrooms or as the plague. He had been communicative about every problem that they had faced, but now…

Now she hardly knew him.

He passed by a while later, not acknowledging her, carrying a drink rather than his book.

"Have you finished reading?" she asked.

"Yes, it was quite pleasant."

"Ah, then where might you be storing it, so that I might read it for myself?"

"It is on a shelf in the drawing room."

He spoke to her as if he was utterly disinterested in anything at all that she could say. She hated it, and the more he did it, the more she wished to pester him. He would snap and speak to her properly eventually, she was sure of it.

"Ah, I see. I was rather confused, that is all, seeing as how books are typically stored in libraries."

Her attempt at a reaction did not work. He did not even look at her and simply continued walking until he was out of sight. He did not come to lunch, which was not a surprise to her, and instead of eating, she simply pushed her food around with her fork in a most unladylike manner.

It didn't matter, she decided, because nobody was there to watch her do it anyway.

Then she left after a while, and as she turned the corner, she heard Colin walking towards the dining hall. She turned and watched him walk inside, having clearly waited for her to finish before arriving. He brightly told the staff that he had been held up by his work, apologizing for the wait.

At least he was still able to apologize to some, she thought.

Dinner passed in the same manner, and Diana decided to at least eat something, even if it was only some bread and some meat. Nothing else appealed to her, and more than anything, she was hoping to go to sleep and awaken to an apologetic husband who smiled and told her she could do anything she wanted.

"Will the Duke come?" she asked a servant, who exchanged looks with another.

"He has told us that he will be occupied this evening."

Diana wondered if, by how secretive they were being, she already knew where he was.

"Very well. I am finished."

She retired to the drawing room, and he was not there. With a sigh, she took a book from a shelf and sat with it. She had been looking forward to some time to read and have some form of quiet, but now there was no joy in it. She simply thumbed the pages and scanned the words, not truly taking any of it in. She slammed it closed with a sigh after what had felt like an eternity and walked to her bedchambers.

And that was when she realized, in spite of herself, just how nice it had been not having to go by herself.

The bed felt far colder when she woke up the next morning, and she did not know how to feel about it. It was lonely, but she was far happier to be alone than with a man who so desperately did not want anything to do with her. And yet, even though he had never woken up beside her, she found herself wanting to blink and see him there.

But he was not. He had promised her that he would always be there for her, and he had so quickly changed his mind. He had become someone that she did not recognize, and she did not like it at all. Fortunately, she heard something in his study, and so she went to find him.

"Am I permitted to enter?" she asked in the doorway.

"To be sure, so long as you do not provide any more distractions."

"Ah, so I was a distraction to you. That is good to know."

"You and I both know that I did not mean it that way."

"I do not, for I am a fool and do not know anything, especially when it pertains to you and the things you do and the reasons behind them, or the lack thereof."

"What do you want, Diana?"

"I want to know where you were last night."

"I was walking."

"Where?"

"What does it matter to you?"

"Well, I do not recall there being any gentlemen's clubs here, but I do remember seeing a brothel."

He dropped his papers and stared at her. "Tell me what you mean by that."

"You are the Duke. You have all of the answers. You know exactly what I meant by that."

"Do you truly think so low of me?"

She did not respond, instead raising an eyebrow at him, satisfied that she had hurt him even a small amount.

"This," he said coldly, gesturing to her, "is precisely why I had to leave last night. I needed time to myself, away from someone who cannot simply trust me."

"And tell me why I should!"

"Because I am your husband. I said the vows, and I took them seriously."

"Even the part about loving me?" she asked, and he looked away. "Exactly," she scoffed. "They meant nothing to you, which was precisely what we had agreed upon. There is no shame in it, so you might as well simply confess."

"That is what everyone wants me to do, isn't it?" he snapped. "Confess to something that I did not do, simply because they would prefer it that way. There is more scandal in it, more interest, rather than the simple truth that I?—"

He cut himself off, and she eyed him carefully.

"That you what?"

"It does not matter. I was on a walk and nothing more last night, and I will ask that you do not insult my honor again."

"So is this what our marriage is to be now?" she asked. "You tell me what is to happen, and I agree with a pleasing smile and never do anything for myself. Is that it?"

"That sounds wonderful right now. Please nod and agree and then leave me to my work."

"Then at least I can see the true marriage that you wanted—one of avoidance and resentment. I can handle that."

"Is it truly what you want?"

"Is it what anyone wants? No, but at least there is no false hope to it, unlike what you have tried to give me over and over. I am simply grateful that you did not make me wait too long before you showed your true self to me."

"God, Diana, you think that you are perfect, don't you?"

She froze at his words. He had promised her not to raise his voice at her, yet he did. She had almost jumped when he did so, but upon thinking about what he had said to her, she felt anger more than fear.

"When have I ever said that?"

"You do not need to! You can see it in the way that you refuse to see things in anyone's way but your own. Why is it that after so long of me showing you nothing but patience, the one time that I am angry, you think this is the real me?"

"Because it is."

"How do you know that?

"Because it is how you have always been. You have always refused to open up to me and tell me how you feel. It has always been a glimpse and then no more, and you seem perfectly happy with that, so forgive me if I took that as you not wanting to truly get to know me in return."

"When I told you how I felt about the library, this happened."

"Because you will not tell me about it. How hard is it to tell your wife about a library?"

"You would not understand. You would not see the issue, and then you would act as though I had not said anything at all, as if my feelings do not matter. They never have with you. It has always been me trying to keep you happy, and you pretending I wasn't doing anything at all. It is exhausting, Diana."

"So tell me about it. You have no way of knowing that I will cast you aside. I have told you the darkest things about myself, left myself utterly exposed to you, yet you refuse to tell me anything at all. You simply expect me to ignore it until it goes away, or pretend it doesn't exist at all."

"That would be wonderful. Perhaps then you will not be breathing down my neck and demanding to know everything."

"Not everything, just the library. Go on, tell me. Then you can prove yourself right, can you not?"

"Why are you so insistent?" he thundered. "It is a library. I have not looked at it in a long time. The books inside are not mine. I want the room closed. That is the end of it, no matter what you say. Why must you push me further about it?"

Diana did not know what to say to that. It was, as far as she was concerned, quite evident that she was his wife and therefore had a right to know why she could not go wherever she pleased, but she knew that if she said it out loud, she would have sounded like a petulant child.

"There," he said triumphantly. "Now, if you stay that way rather than forcing me to argue with you, the two of us may find ourselves much happier. Let us remain this way."

He did not send her away. Instead, he walked past her and down the hallway. Diana watched him go, not daring to talk to him anymore. It was not that she was afraid of what he might say, not completely at least, but because she was afraid of what she might say to him. She was angry, furious, and did not know what to do about it.

In spite of all that he had promised, he had taken his place as the husband, the one in charge, and forced her to be the wife who does not complain. It was the sort of wife that he had vehemently denied wanting, yet after a single argument, he had made her one. There was nothing that she could do—she was at his mercy, just as she had always been afraid of becoming.

Then again, there were things that she could do about it. She had not promised a single time to do as he had told her, after all. In all fairness, she was more than capable of doing whatever she wanted, as the only thing in her way was the Duke, and he clearly did not wish to speak to her.

Part of her missed him, missed having a friend that she could confide in without judgment, but another part of her knew that that was not his role for her now. He had expectations of her that she could not meet, not if she wanted to be who she truly was, and after so long of him wanting her to be herself, she decided that it was time to do so, whether he liked it or not. She would be a duchess in title only, just as they had discussed.

She was completely happy with that.