Page 22 of The Duchess and the Beast
“I have my personal reading room,” he responded as he took a small bite off his fork. “So, there is no need to worry.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Good. That is... convenient.” It was very muchnot.
At least the two weren’t at each other’s throats, so that was something. Although Virtue might not have minded, for that would have added a little drama into what was turning out to be a very stunted supper.
Sebastian had arrived before her, which Virtue had judged as a good omen. An indication that he was eager to sup with her, that he might even put in some effort. Dressed impeccably too, in a dark tight-fitted suit that seemed to emphasize every hint of muscle and swallow any hint of light. Save for the mask, of course, which he wore like a second skin. Even his hair was neatly tied back and kept in check, a first since she had met him.
When she had walked into the dining room, she had felt his eyes sweeping over her, working their way from her head to her toes, lingering in all the right places, a sense of hunger that went beyond his desire to merely feast with her—instead, rather, to feastuponher. And for a heartbeat, Virtue was glad to have chosen her attire with extra care this evening, opting for a full-dress gown in dark green, which complemented her red hair beautifully. For, her husband seemed to clearly appreciate it.
Everything had been going so perfectly that, as she had taken a seat across from him, sharing a subtle smile, Virtue had been certain that this dinner here would be the turning point in their marriage, and by the time it was over, she might truly begin to understand the man she had married.
Unfortunately, she’d had no such luck.
Apparently, he had no desire to talk whatsoever. He didn’t appear angry. Nor did he come across as sullen. Just silent and passive. More concerned with what was on his plate than who sat across from him. Virtue found it difficult to gauge whether he was simply shy or utterly bored, his large frame making him appear more like a silent statue than a companion for dinner.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” she asked, although she immediately felt like a fool when she did. Such a dreary question, it was a wonder he didn’t wish to speak with her.
“No,” he replied simply.
“I—” She hesitated but he looked up from his plate at her. “I was thinking, the gardens. They could use some... some life.” She tittered to try and break the tension. “If it would please you, I think I might try to renovate them. Plant some fresh flower beds. Revitalize the trees and snip some overgrown hedges. Perhaps even add a few benches and ornaments. That sort of thing.” He did not respond right away, tilting his head and looking as if in judgment. “Or not,” she added quickly, her confidence waning. “It isn’t necessary—”
“No,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly firm. “That is a grand idea. I, myself, am not particularly fond of the gardens, truth be told. But perhaps that is because of how lifeless they have become under my watch. A renovation would be in order.”
She smiled, letting the relief show. “Wonderful. I shall start at once then!”
“Good.” Sebastian's reply was brief as he returned his attention to his plate, slicing into his venison with meticulous care.
But Virtue’s eyes never left his. She continued to watch him, pondering what it might take to elicit some sort of genuine response from his lips. He was cautious around her…toocautious, as if purposefully staying silent so that he might not spark another confrontation between them. On the one hand, she felt she ought to be grateful as she remembered his temper and how easily she had set him off. Yet on the other... she yearned for more—more depth, more engagement, moreanything.
Now, purposefully watching the Duke feast, she could not help but notice how awkward he was with his mask. The way he was forced to skillfully maneuver food to his mouth from the side, careful not to accidentally dirty or upset it, was curious and went some way toward explaining what lent his mannerisms an awkward grace. She observed as he tilted his head slightly, making sure to slip the fork behind the mask rather than into it. The process was tiresome and suggested that he rarely feasted this way.
He was evidently uncomfortable wearing the mask and now, Virtue found herself examining it closer. The side of his face that was uncovered was unmarked, handsome even. And from what she could see, there were no burn marks or scars by its edges, nothing she could see that might suggest why he wore it. Evenhis right eye, which she had been told to be missing, was very much intact with a piercing glare. Did he even need the mask? Surely, whatever it was covering couldn’t bethatbad.
She hesitated... not sure if it was the right thing to bring up. But again, the stilted manner of this dinner and how careful it had been made her realize that she had no choice. Even if the worst should happen.
“I was wondering if I might ask you something. If you promise not to get offended,” she began simply, setting down her knife and fork.
Sebastian finished chewing, did the same, and looked at her but said nothing.
“It...” A deep breath and she dove in. “It concerns your mask.” As predicted, Sebastian’s body tensed at the subject, immediately uncomfortable. “I was curious whether its presence at supper was truly necessary?”
“You think I enjoy wearing it?”
“I truly do not know. From my perspective, it seems needless.” Offering a gentle smile, she continued, “We are married now, and surely a day will arrive when I shall see you without it...” She let the suggestion hang in the air between them.
“Believe me, it is for the best,” he finished, averting his gaze, and taking up his utensils once more as if to beckon the end of that conversation.
“Oh, I doubt that.”
“Doubt it if you must...” He spoke carefully, refusing to look at her. “But I do not wear this mask for style or pleasure. It is for your sake. Without it... no." He shook his head firmly once more. “It is for the best.”
“Please?” she whispered, a soft plea. “I would very much like to—”
“I told you, no!” His voice erupted, that temper of his returning in an instant. Virtue recoiled, shocked by his intensity. Thankfully, Sebastian seemed to realize in an instant that he had gone too far, and his expression softened, a sincere sign of his regret. “I… I am sorry,” he murmured in earnest.
“No,” she hurried to assure him. “You needn’t apologize.” And she meant it too. Despite the anger he spewed at her, the fact that he was showinganyemotion at all—the beast peering from its cage—thrilled her more than it frightened. “I should not have pressed.”
“You didn’t press,” he sighed, setting his knife and fork aside once more with a deliberate gentleness. Then he looked at her. Really looked. Meeting her eyes across the table, she saw through the mask to the man behind it. His eyes... there was sorrow in them, pain even. “And I should not have yelled at you.”