Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

S amantha had never thought for a moment that her husband could be so angry.

It was so sudden, and given all that she had done in preparation for his return, it had been the last thing that she had expected him to do. Her father, perhaps but never Graham.

Yet there he was, visibly furious with her. She had known from the moment that he entered that something was amiss, but she had thought it to be shock. She had completely changed his drawing room, and even though he had given her permission to change everything, it was bound to be a surprise to see such a drastic difference. But even so, when he demanded to know what she had done, she felt herself shrink away from him, unwilling to speak.

"Is it… not to your liking?" she asked.

"You cannot truly believe that I would have liked this."

His voice was low, the complete perfect opposite to how her father had been when angered, but even so, it gave her chills. This was not her husband — far from it. It was as though he had been replaced by a man made of thunder, and she hated it. She wanted to leave, but he stepped in front of her.

"Do not destroy this room and then run away," he snapped. "What were you thinking?"

"I thought you would like it. It was so dark before, and —"

"And so you decided to do as you pleased without thinking of how I might feel about it?"

"You told me that I could do as I pleased with this house."

"Because I thought that you would at least honor my wishes."

"What wishes?"

"Samantha, you are not incompetent. Do not act as though you are."

"I must be because I truly do not understand what you are talking about. I thought that I was doing a good thing. Do you not see how out of place this room would have been if I had left it as it was?"

"You would certainly know what it means to be out of place."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"You know exactly what I mean. You have been acting as though you are a servant rather than a wife, and you do not seem to care."

"I enjoy being a part of things. You certainly have not made me feel a part of things by disappearing all day."

"Dukes have roles, you know. There are things that we must do that do not concern our wives. That is something that you should have known."

"But I do not because of my status. Is that right?"

"Do not start that again."

"Why not? You have said it yourself many a time. My father is a drunkard, and I am practically a lowly wench. Perhaps that is why I help the staff as often as I do — because they do not make me feel lesser than them."

"I do not think that you are lesser than me. I simply think that you need to learn what is and is not acceptable."

"Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like this ," she gestured, standing up. "You are speaking to me as if I am a girl and not a lady. You have never been like this with me before."

"You have never disrespected me like this before. What do you expect me to do? This was my mother's room, and through your selfishness, it is as though she were never here at all."

"Why did you tell me that I could change it if you did not want me to?"

"Because I never thought for one second that you would do this much to it. I told you how important this room was to me. I thought you understood, but I suppose I am the fool for thinking that you would understand."

"I understood you perfectly well which is precisely why I wanted to change it."

"Change what?" he asked, raising his hand. "That?"

But as he raised his hand, Samantha froze. He was towering over her, his hand raised above her, and she waited for it to come back down. She shrank away from him, running out of the room before he could grab her.

He did not follow her.

Samantha ran around the corner, and once she felt that she was far enough away, she leaned against the wall and tried to steady her breathing. She had not felt fear like that in a while, and she had not missed it at all. She had truly thought that that sort of feeling would not come to her anymore, but she had been wrong.

She was frightened, of course, but more than anything, she felt like a fool.

Soon enough, she heard him leave the drawing room and storm out of the house. She could feel her heart continuing to pound in her chest, and she did not know how to make it stop. She ran to her room, locking the door behind her, and she threw herself onto the bed.

But she did not cry. She hardly cried, and even though she was so sure that an argument with the man she cared so deeply for would be enough for it to happen, it did not. She was more shocked than upset, she realized, and so she simply laid there, trying to bring her breathing back to normal.

Even as she fell asleep, she could feel that it had not worked.

She awoke with a start from a nightmare. She had not suffered one in a long time, and she knew it was no coincidence that she had had one that night. She did not leave her bedchambers, instead pacing the floor and trying to make sense of everything. Had he truly been hiding his true self all that time?

Graham was not a perfect man, but he was kind to her. If nothing else, he had done right by her when necessary, even when unnecessary at times. He had been a good man to her, and she had thought during their courtship that, if nothing else, they had formed a bond, even a friendship.

It was more than that, however. Samantha thought that, after everything she had been through, she knew how to guess at people's intentions. She thought that she would be able to notice the signs, but she was wrong. She should have noticed when they first met that he did not like her, and she had always had that feeling, but she continued to speak with him regardless. She should have forced herself to be ruined, the way she wanted to.

But she had not, and now, she was married to a man that she could no longer trust.

"Your Grace?" a small voice came from behind the door, "will you come to breakfast this morning?"

Samantha took a breath. She was not going to go to breakfast, but she did not need to punish her servant by speaking in a horrible manner to her.

"I am unwell, unfortunately," she replied, "but thank you for thinking of me."

She hoped that there would be no further questions as to her health, for she was not a skilled liar. It was most unlikely that she would be able to feign an illness. Fortunately, she had been keeping some books in her room, so she would not be without her entertainment for the day.

When evening came and nobody had come to see her a second time, she did not know how to feel. She was grateful for them not intruding, but she also wondered if it was simply because they did not care. She tried not to see it that way because she knew it was simply that they wanted to give her some time, and her argument with the Duke was likely heard by them, but it did not make her feel any less hurt.

Once more, she felt completely and utterly punished simply for trying to do the right thing. Samantha tried to imagine what Diana would say, but she couldn't think of anything. After all, she had not told even her sister what had happened to her in the months after Diana had left the household, and she did not plan to. It was too dark, too shameful, and she could not bring herself to do it.

Nor could she allow Diana to feel as though it had been her fault.

Yet, she did want to see her sister. She did not know how to explain what had happened, but she longed to escape her household and be in one that was full of love. It was the only one like it that she knew of.

And so she went.

Diana was, of course, most surprised to see her. This was precisely what Samantha had been expecting; she was supposed to be in marital bliss thanks to the gift she had given her husband, after all, but after one look at each other, Diana ushered her in.

"You missed dinner, I'm afraid," Diana explained, "but I can have Cook prepare a tea for you."

"That would be wonderful. I have not eaten today."

"In which case, I shall ensure there are sandwiches as well as biscuits," Diana noted. "What happened?"

"He hated it."

"The drawing room?"

At last, Samantha was able to cry. She felt dreadful doing it in front of her sister, but there was a strange calm that washed over her while she did. It was a release, exactly as she had been needing.

Diana was, of course, in shock at this. She took Samantha's arm and led her to the drawing room and seated her on the sofa. Samantha felt unable to explain what had happened because she was yet to think it through herself. It had not made any sense, and it was not as though Graham was willing to speak with her about it.

"We argued," she said at last. "He told me I should not have changed the room, and that it was his last connection to his mother."

"Surely he saw that his mother's presence was all throughout the room?"

"Either he did not see it, or he did not care. In any case, I could not stand to be near him. I stayed in my room all day today, and now, I am here because I do not know what else to do."

"What you need to do is give the both of you time to think about it all and then talk to one another like the adults you are."

"You did not see him, Di. He was so incredibly angry with me, and I have never seen him like that before. I have only ever seen one man like that, and that was Father. I cannot look at him, not if he is going to be angry with me like that."

Diana laughed softly, rubbing her sister's arm.

"Do you suppose that my husband and I never disagree?"

"Of course not," Samantha sighed, "but I highly doubt that you raise your voices at one another."

"Not anymore, no, because we learned how to be married, but it was not easy throughout. There will be challenges and misunderstandings along the way, and you are bound to make mistakes. That goes for both of you."

"I am more than willing to admit that I made a mistake if he will only tell me what it is that I have done wrong!"

"Then, when the tensions have settled, tell him that. He has undergone many changes just as you have. You need to give him the grace that you also require, and he shall follow suit. To my knowledge, neither of you had what one might call good influences."

"That is not true — I had you."

"And what did your husband have? Who was there to guide him?"

Samantha thought for a moment. Diana was, as she so often was, correct. Graham had only ever had his mother to show him how to be a good person, and he lost her at a young age. He was doing his best, and she knew deep down that he did not hate her. He had never said as much, and until then, his actions had only ever proven the opposite to be true.

"It was an argument," Samantha said gently, "but you are right. We are bound to have those. I should go."

"No, stay," Diana said gently. "It is dark outside, and I would hate for something to happen to you. Stay the night and then return tomorrow, once you have both had some time to think."

The tea arrived, and Samantha realized just how hungry she was. She wanted to go home as she did not wish to intrude, but she knew it was best to stay with her sister. She was safe there, and she would be able to sleep rather than force herself through a difficult conversation beforehand.

Once she awoke, however, well-rested and with a clearer mind, she knew what had to be done. She would find Graham and make him speak to her and tell her what she had done wrong. If nothing else were to come of the discussion, then she would at least know that she had done all that she could to apologize. She spent the day with Diana and her family, trying to prepare herself for what would come, and then she left just before nightfall.

"You can do this," Diana promised her as they stood in the doorway. "It is not as frightening as you think that it is. Besides, you always were the more intelligent one of the two of us. You can do this."

"I was better with books. I do not know the first thing about what it is to be a wife; I ignored all of your lessons because I never thought that I would be one!"

"Then it is just as well that you are a quick study, for you shall have to learn and fast. You can do this, though, I have never once doubted that."

Samantha did not have the energy to protest any further. She knew that she would have to expend it in the inevitable argument that would come upon her return home. It was easier to thank her sister and begin her journey, and the entire way there, she thought about what Graham would say. Would he scold her a second time? Would he find a way to annul their marriage and be rid of her? Was that what she wanted?

Nothing made her mind stop running away from her. Nothing made any sense, and it was rare that she felt that way. She had always known what to do, even if it had been a bad idea or the wrong thing to do, but once she met the Duke, it was as though the judgment that she had prided herself on left her completely, and when she entered her house, everything made even less sense.

Her husband had been crying.