Page 14 of Her Lion of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #3)

The change in Leonard was sudden, and Cecilia did not like it.

She had never known him to be so curt, so cutting.

She had even, for a short while when they had first met, tried to elicit a reaction from him, something that made him angry like every other gentleman, but it had not worked.

He was simply kind to her and a friend, and that made the change in his demeanor even worse.

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked Mrs. Herrington that afternoon as she fumbled with her embroidery.

“I do not think so. Why do you ask?”

“His Grace has seemed rather out of sorts. He did not come home until this morning.”

“I would not think much of it. He tends to be like this around the anniversary of his brother’s passing.”

“Ah, I see.” Cecilia yelped as she pricked her finger. “Do you think that he will soon go back to normal, then?”

“Of course. It never lasts long. You may act as you please around him, though. If his behavior affects you, you are most welcome to tell him.”

“Perhaps it is best if I simply let him grieve? I am the first person to say when I feel wronged, but I cannot fathom how difficult it is to lose a brother.”

Mrs. Herrington smiled sympathetically and took a seat beside her.

The housekeeper had quickly become a friend to her, and though it was unexpected, Cecilia welcomed it with open arms. It was like having a mother with her, one who could guide her and tell her what she could do better.

She had never thought that a housekeeper could play that role, but she was pleased that hers did.

“I remember when I lost my brother,” Mrs. Herrington began. “I was furious with everyone. I was even angry with God for taking him from me. We did not have much, but we had each other. So when I lost Charles, I thought that I had nothing left.”

“Oh, Mrs. Herrington. I am so sorry. What changed?”

“I did. It might sound awful, but I had work to do and a husband to find. I only had one brother, and we had a mother and father to care for, so I had to do what was necessary. The sad truth is that the world does not care who we love and lose. We all have lives to live, and if we sit and cry and hold onto all that anger, what are we living for? I know that Charles would have told me to stop grieving, so why do it?”

Cecilia sat in stunned silence. Humans were supposed to grieve, and though she had never had to, she imagined it as the most unbearable pain in the world. She could not simply pick herself up and carry on; she knew it.

“You are far stronger than I,” she whispered.

“Not at all.” Mrs. Herrington smiled sadly. “You are simply fortunate to have never needed to find that strength.”

They remained quiet for a moment, Cecilia trying to focus on a tulip she was embroidering, when Mrs. Herrington coughed gently.

“If you wish to give him time, then do so. But he will have to let his brother go, eventually.”

Cecilia thought about that long after Mrs. Herrington had left. She knew what she wanted to do: sit with her husband and force him to tell her how he was feeling. But that was not fair. She needed to let him do what he did every year, and then they could discuss the matter when he felt better.

That did not, however, make his sudden absence any easier to bear. They had lunch together that day, but Leonard did not look at her. He ate in silence, and each time Cecilia glanced at him, he had a blank look on his face.

“The sun is out again,” she commented. “That is far nicer than the storm, do you not think?”

He did not respond.

“I was considering a walk. Would you like to join me?”

Again, he did not respond.

Cecilia looked at him and wondered what had made him change so quickly. He had been gone for hours the night before; any number of things could have happened. It quickly occurred to her that she had heard whispers of ladies of the night attending gentlemen’s clubs, and unease coiled in her belly.

He would not have. He never would have, and yet…

“I am with child,” she announced.

He dropped his fork. He stared at her for a moment, and then the corner of his lips quirked up.

“Is that the only way I shall have your attention?” she asked.

“It was certainly something, for I would know for a fact that the child would not be mine. Do you want my attention so badly?”

“Why are you speaking to me this way? This is so unlike you.”

“Actually, Cecilia, this is precisely who I am. You may not like it, but it is the truth. I am not a perfect gentleman, and I have never pretended to be.”

“Perhaps not, but you have always been a friend. I do not understand what I have done to warrant such hatred from you.”

“I do not hate you. I simply remembered what this arrangement is.”

She fell silent, pushing her food around her plate for a moment before placing her fork down and looking into his eyes. “Could you remind me?”

“It is practical, mutually beneficial. You have security, and I have a wife.”

“Yes, well, practical does not mean hostile.”

“I am not being hostile!”

“Then what are you being?”

It was his turn to look uncertain, shifting in his seat and avoiding her gaze.

Suddenly, she did not want him to talk at all. She wanted to wake up from whatever nightmare she was having and find his usual self. It felt awful, having a disagreement when she knew he was not doing well, but not knowing what she had done was worse.

“I am being reasonable,” he replied, at last. “I value you immensely, but we must be realistic. This was never a love match; we never courted, and in the grand scheme of things, it is not as though we are truly married.”

Cecilia did not respond to that. She did not want to give him the satisfaction, nor did she wish to dignify such a ridiculous notion.

All her fears came flooding back.

She stood up, neatly folding her napkin and placing it down on her plate. Leonard did not consider them married, nor did he view her as his wife. It was a devastating blow, but she would never let him see that.

“Very well,” she said softly. “I thank you for the clarification.”

She left the room without looking back.

She donned her coat, went to the stables, and asked a stable hand to saddle a horse for her. Within minutes, she was riding through the estate, the wind pulling her hair loose and making it flutter behind her.

She wanted to ride out of the estate, out of London, to anywhere but where she was. It would have been easier to start again as a normal lady and live an honest life. She had the means to do so hidden away in her bedchambers, so it would not be impossible.

She slowed the horse, breathing heavily. Running away would be the easier thing to do, but was it what she wanted?

She thought back to what Mrs. Herrington had said: that Leonard was facing difficulties because of the time of year, and that he would overcome them eventually, but that she had a choice. She could allow him to continue behaving as he did, or she could say something to him.

The latter option seemed better, of course. She wanted to unravel him, to learn what he was thinking and why it made him so suddenly cruel. But at that moment, she knew that she could not.

With the way they had left things, she could not face him for a while. She was still angry, and that anger would have to subside before she could show him any sympathy.

Cecilia had hidden many things over the years, but her anger was something that she could not conceal. It always burst out at the worst possible time.

She rode the horse to the greenhouse and tethered it outside. She walked through the doors and sat among the plants, trying to calm herself.

It was warm in there, and the air was fragrant, which comforted her greatly.

She had never cared much for plants until Beatrice shared her love for them with her.

Thanks to years of listening to her, Cecilia could name almost everything around her, and she repeated the names to herself until she was calm once more.

She lay down on the cool ground, staring up at the clouds until her eyes closed.

“A greenhouse is no place for a duchess to sleep.”

Cecilia did not know how long she had been there, nor how long she had been sleeping, but she knew that the housekeeper would tell her eventually.

She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position.

“Mrs. Herrington?” she asked. “What happened?”

“That is what I am hoping you will tell me. You have been missing for a few hours now. His Grace found Brutus outside and decided this was where you are.”

“Is he here?” she asked, her back stiffening.

“No,” Mrs. Herrington replied hesitantly. “He sent me to get you. It would appear that the two of you have had an issue of sorts?”

“You might say that,” Cecilia muttered bitterly. “He has told me we are not even truly married.”

She expected shock from Mrs. Herrington, or at least pity, but all she got was a sad chuckle.

“Sometimes in trying not to feel anything at all, one wounds oneself. I would not pay him any heed, and I certainly would not allow it to hurt me this badly. His Grace does not know quite what to do with himself now that he is married. It is no excuse, of course, and he should never have said something so cruel.”

“I have been called far worse than not a wife,” Cecilia mumbled. “If anything, that is something I would have been proud of a few months ago, but now… I never thought that such a small comment could hurt me so much.”

“It is to be expected, and it is because you care.”

Mrs. Herrington placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but it felt heavy. Cecilia shrugged her off gently, standing tall and squaring her shoulders.

“No,” she replied, wiping beneath her eye with the back of her hand, “it means that I was foolish enough to allow it. I will not make that mistake again.”

“If you insist, Your Grace.”

“I do. Now, shall you and I take tea in the drawing room? I am rather parched after being in the sun for hours.”

She wanted Mrs. Herrington to argue, to say that it was not right, and to break down her walls so that she could finally admit how she was feeling. But the housekeeper was supposed to agree with her, and that was precisely what she did.

They took their tea quietly, Cecilia silently swearing that she would never allow herself to feel so strongly for a person that they could make her feel so miserable.

Once or twice, Leonard walked by and looked inside. Cecilia did not turn her head to look at him, though Mrs. Herrington did. He did not say anything, nor did he enter, and Cecilia told herself that she liked it that way.

If she were not his wife, then she would do exactly as she pleased.