Page 47 of My Cruel Duke

Of course, Angleton was willing; it was an opportunity to see his beloved. He could never reject such an opportunity.

“My family isnothosting a ball.” A scowl settled on Rhysand’s face as he wondered what Penelope was up to.

When Rhysand stepped into his home, he could barely recognize the place. If he had not lived in the mansion his entire life, he would have believed he had walked into an estate belonging to someone else. The bright colors that littered the corridor were an unbearable torment to Rhysand.

“Rufus!” Rhysand snarled, his eyes widening as he took in the decorations. He had yet to see the people whose carriages sat outside his house. The butler was nowhere to be found.

“Perhaps we should check the ballroom?” Angleton suggested behind him. With a grunt, he started toward the ballroom, hoping that Angleton was wrong and that Penelope did not host a ball in his house.

The moment he arrived at the ballroom, Rhysand was attacked with more colors and people with fake smiles on their faces as they screamed,“Happy Birthday, Your Grace!”

Rhysand took a few steps backward as he took it all in. Penelope was in a gold dress and a huge smile; beside her were her family and Uncle Harold, and behind them was a room filled with people he did not know or even cared to know. A flash of horror pierced his heart as the memories he had buried resurrected.

“Happy birthday, Your Grace!”Rhysand’s mother had jokingly said with a smile. She was used to making such jests, which she claimed was her way of reminding Rhysand of the responsibility being a Duke entailed. She claimed it was her reason for referring to him with a title he had not yet inherited, but Rhysand knew it was because she was proud of him.

“I have prepared various activities for your birthday, dear.”It had been mere hours before Rhysand saw blood sprawled everywhere while his family lay lifeless on the green grass. The once colorful flowers had been stained with the red liquid flowing around. Pain and helplessness, he remembered those emotions as his eyes found the large cake on a table in a corner. An odd sensation quivered through him.

Despising the fragility that accompanied his traumatic past, Rhysand pushed forward and stood before Penelope, who had a slight smile on her face.

“What in Christ’s name is going on here!? Who arranged this!?”

The room went dead silent, with guests exchanging glances of confusion at each other. Penelope colored fiercely with parted lips, but she said nothing. She just stared at him, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“This is your doing, is it not?” She said nothing. “I know there is not one member of the staff in this house capable of such madness except you.”

“Rhysand, I only wanted to surprise you with a birthday celebration, as I have heard you do not usually celebrate…”

Rhysand ran his fingers through his hair at her reckless words.

“Then you must have heard why I do not celebrate it, have you not?”

Silence followed.

“Send everyone away this instant!” He did not care that his voice was heavy as his words were harsh or that he had just yelled at her in the presence of others. She had no right to touch his house and open his past wounds as she pleased.

“Rhysand, perhaps we should…” Uncle Harold stepped forward, but Rhysand passed him as though he were a stranger. Harold should have known better. He should have stopped Penelope when the idea popped up in her head; he should have warned her off doing whatever she wanted as she was unaware of the consequences that followed.

“Rhysand!” He halted at the sound of Penny’s voice, then he turned to face the guests, most of whom stood with shock written on their faces.

“I shall not repeat myself. Everyone. Out!” the guests scurried away, murmuring about how cruel Rhysand was and wondering why Penny married him.

“Rhysand!” Penny called again, but he walked away without acknowledging her.

“Let him be, Penny; you can speak to him in the morning and explain your intentions better when he is no longer angry,” Aunt Augusta advised, but Penny shook her head. She did not think Rhysand’s reaction was typical.

“Your aunt is right, my dear. He should be alone right now,” Uncle Harold chipped in.

Penny heard them and saw the wisdom in their words, but she could not let Rhysand go like that. Had they not seen the look in his eyes? The fear and helplessness that covered his otherwise expressionless eyes and the anger it morphed into was not directed at her. Had they not been looking? Had she been the only one looking at him?

Penny waited until the last of the guests filed out before she gathered her dress in her hands, and walked up the stairs to Rhysand’s room, knocking on his door to let her in.

Rhysand had not responded, but when he did, there was no mistaking his anger.

“Get. Out!”

Chapter24

For several moments, the only sound in the room was Rhysand’s haggard breathing as he leaned against his dresser, gripping the edges of the wooden furniture tight.