Page 33 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars (Ton’s Beasts #1)
N othing looked better in the morning than it did the night before when Aaron had retreated to his tower. He decided to skip breakfast to give Theresa her space. Not to mention, he wanted to avoid the scene he felt they would cause in front of Juliette and his grandmother.
There was no need to air their grievances in front of their family. He did not relish telling his grandmother and sister that he and Theresa had finally consummated their marriage, much less that they had done so at Lady Sophia’s party.
Instead, he sat at the small table in his chambers and drained a glass of whiskey to take the edge off when he got out of bed.
With a sigh, he did the one thing he knew how to do when he was upset, frustrated, or heartbroken—he dragged the easel to the center of the room and grabbed his palette.
But this morning, he did not think of Theresa in his bed. He did not think of the violence of war. He thought only of his hand creating a piece of art that he could give to his wife, to show her that he cared.
A deep sigh escaped his lips. If only he could see his wife today. If only he could speak to her and tell her that things were not what she thought they were.
Today, the only thing of hers he had was the kitten playing in front of the fireplace in his chambers.
He thought of how she ran from him that night when she heard the kitten crying out for its mother. She was so tender, so gentle with it. She knew what it was like to grow up without a family, just like the kitten she had brought home with them.
That was when it hit him—he would paint himself. The man behind the mask. It might be the closest thing he could do to taking the mask off in her presence. She could see what he looked like and decide for herself whether she could love him or not.
He started to paint the shape of his face, his eyes, and his nose. The paint flowed from his hands as the image began to form in front of him. To ensure that she got the picture, he painted the scars with bright red paint, as they had looked when he had first returned from the war.
It was the first time in quite a while that he thought about his mask and what his face looked like beneath it.
As he finished his painting, he found that the act of spreading paint on canvas had not alleviated his discomfort. Instead of relaxing, he felt even more on edge.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat down before the hearth with the kitten, which was stretched out, enjoying a nap. He sat for quite some time, enjoying the warmth of the fire on his skin.
But eventually, he could take it no longer. He had to know what his wife was thinking, what she was doing with her day.
Curse her rules .
He had grown so used to spending time with her daily that he could scarcely go a few hours without her company.
With another deep, steadying breath, he rose to his feet and fixed his mask in place. He stood in front of the mirror and straightened his clothes, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the suit jacket. It would not do for her to see him disheveled.
He opened the heavy door to his tower and quickly headed in the direction of her chambers. When he arrived, he could hear that she was inside with someone else, though the door muffled their conversation.
Who would be with her in her chambers besides him?
Jealousy bubbled up in his chest. He had been deprived of her company all morning, and here she was, entertaining someone else in her room.
Tentatively, he raised a hand and knocked on the door before pushing it open. She was his wife. He did not need to knock before he entered her chambers. It was his right to know what she was doing and who she was with at all times.
He looked inside, and what he saw nearly sent him to his knees.
In the center of the room sat an open trunk, half full of gowns and undergarments. Juliette and Theresa barely looked up when he barged in, but kept folding the garments and tucking them inside.
“I wish to speak to my wife,” Aaron said in a commanding tone.
Juliette stared back at him, not intimidated by the power he could wield over everyone else. She continued to fold the gown in her hand before putting it in the trunk.
“ Alone .”
Juliette narrowed her eyes and looked to Theresa for permission to leave.
Aaron’s anger flared hotter. How dare his sister look to his wife for permission instead of obeying his command? Had Theresa so thoroughly wrapped everyone in this house around her little finger?
Of course, he knew the answer to that question.
He had experienced it himself. Her kindness, her joy, and even her innocence endeared people to her. She had the exact opposite effect on people. He intimidated them, while she charmed them.
It was easy to see which one of them inspired more loyalty.
Juliette waited until Theresa nodded to her before rising to her feet and leaving the room. On her way out the door, she pinned him with a glare that would have intimidated a lesser man. He pitied the poor man who would one day marry his sister; she was a force of nature.
Aaron watched as Theresa continued putting clothes in the trunk. She said nothing to him, as if she knew that whoever spoke first would yield.
He decided that he was all right with that compromise.
He cleared his throat, and Theresa paused what she was doing to look up at him.
“What are you doing, wife?” His voice was low and gravelly from disuse this morning, but it was also thick with emotion.
Where was his wife going without so much as a word to him?
What would he do without her?
Theresa took in her husband’s disheveled appearance. She noted the paint on his hands and figured he must have been just as upset as she was over the rift between them. But she also knew that the rift was caused by him and his refusal to let her in.
He was not the only one who was upset. She had spent the night alone in her bed, crying for all she had lost. Before, she could have returned to her life in the nunnery, to her sisters who loved her. Now, she was ruined for a life as a lady of the cloth.
Their marriage was official and could no longer be annulled, allowing her husband to pursue the woman he truly wanted.
When she looked in the mirror this morning, her eyes were swollen from the tears she had cried all night long. Theresa had been angry when the carriage first brought her home. Angry that Aaron had taken this from her, angry that he had done so with thoughts of another woman.
Slowly, that anger turned to sorrow. She hoped he had still been standing outside her door when she broke down in tears, her sobs echoing off the walls of her chambers.
She had buried her face in the pillow on her spacious bed and wished she had someone to share it with. Earlier, she would have asked her husband, but now?
Now, she preferred to be alone if it meant that she would not have to endure this heartbreak all over again.
She no longer felt sorry for him and his loneliness. His isolation was entirely of his own making.
He could still fix this with a simple action. He could take off his mask right now and let her into his heart.
The problem was that Theresa did not know how to say any of that to him. Instead, she stared back at him, trying to match his intensity. She pulled herself up to her full height, determined not to let her swollen eyes give away that she was heartbroken.
She would not cave to a man’s demand for her to yield. She had not been prepared for marriage, but at least she knew how she should be treated.
The rules he set on their wedding day were out the window.
The rules that Lady Isabella had set, she reminded herself.
“I am packing to take my leave,” she answered, gesturing toward the trunk. “It seems there is no place for me here at Blackwell Manor.”
“Do not be foolish,” Aaron said softly. “You do not need to take your leave because of a disagreement.”
“I told you I would be visiting my family. I received a message from my mother just this morning. She wants me to visit, as if she knew that this would not work out.”
Theresa tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace.
“And you would go to her after everything she has done to you?”
“She says she can’t bear to lose me after she’d just found me.”
The memory of the day her mother had arrived at the convent to whisk her away flashed through her mind. The tears on her mother’s face had been genuine, whereas her husband’s affection may never have been. He was with her for what she could do for him and nothing more.
She continued to pack her meager belongings. For once, she was grateful that she moved lightly through this life. There was no risk that she would leave behind anything that truly mattered to her.
Anything but Aaron, of course.
She stole glances at him as she moved about the room.
He stood there, like he was unsure of his place in her chambers. Whereas before he had commanded authority even here, now she held the power.
He had undressed her and unraveled her. Now, she was unraveling him piece by piece.
“Your mother is right,” he said, clearing his throat. His gaze was softer than she had ever seen it. “She can’t bear to lose you. But I can’t bear to lose you either. I ask that you reconsider.”
“You would ask that I reconsider,” she scoffed. “Would you then reconsider the one request I have made of you?”
He shook his head, forlorn.
Theresa frowned and turned her back so that he would not see the tears brimming in her eyes.
“You may stay with your family for as long as you want. When you are ready to come back, you know where to find me.” His voice was thick with the same emotion she felt.
“Yes,” she forced out. “You will be in your tower, alone, with a glass of whiskey.”
“I did not promise you that I would be a good husband. In fact, I tried to give you every hint to the contrary. I was clear about the rules on the day we were wed.”