Page 21 of My Ruthless Duke
“You have to stop living in the past sooner or later, Brother,” Mary said.
“That is rich, coming from you,” he answered with equal venom. “Are you not still living in the past, Mary? Accusing me of every little or big thing that has ever happened to you?”
He could see the fight building. He knew that there was no point in fighting with her once things escalated to this point. She was going to become unreasonable, and the last thing that Dorian wanted was to lose his temper with her.
“I only want for you to see sense! I do not see why you are being so stubborn about this!” Mary nearly shouted.
“Get out,” Dorian warned. He could not continue this. He had his reasons, and he would not explain them to his sister. Did she truly think that he did things for no reason? That he would wish misfortune on the only ones that he cared for in this world?
“Typical. I make you slightly uncomfortable, and you push me away.”
“Get out!” He yelled, hoping that she would hear him.
Mary wanted to have the last word; he could see it on her face. Her hands twitched at her side as she struggled to keep her comments to herself, and then turned and stomped out of the room, her needlework wholly forgotten.
The door slammed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This was supposed to be a simple solution to a problem, and it was becoming such a thorn in his side. He was notsupposedto be attracted to her. That was the crux of the issue.
He reached behind him to the rope cord on the wall, the one that was attached to the wall of bells down in the servant’s quarters. It would summon assistance to him. Thankfully, it was the housekeeper that arrived in the doorway. She was the easiest to handle. More importantly, she was the only one who never seemed to attempt to pressure him into doing things that he did not wish to do.
“Is there something that I can do for you, Your Grace?”
“The gardens to the south of the property; would there be sufficient space to add in another few raised potting boxes?” He asked, not looking at her when he spoke so that he would not see if she connected any dots or not.
“I believe so, Your Grace. I could have the butler order supplies this afternoon, perhaps?”
“Spare no expense. Make sure to acquire whatever seeds or bulbs of flowers that would grow this season as well. I wish to give it as a gift to my wife.”
“Very thoughtful, Your Grace,” Matilde answered without inflection.
It was then that he glanced at her. She was still looking at him expectantly like his gesture would not be quite enough.
“And… perhaps… inquire as to what her favorite dessert is?”
This was embarrassing. He felt so deeply uncomfortable. How was he supposed to know if she even had a sweet tooth or not?
“Whatever it is, I want it served more often at dinner,” he ordered.
He did not truly care for the detached look on the housekeeper’s face. A grander gesture might be preferable, certainly, were this a true marriage or an arrangement of a different nature. It was likely his company that was distressing her so anyway.
Why do I even care if she is happy or not? Marrying her should have been enough to atone for my sins.
Chapter 11
“This is for me?” Cordelia gushed. For the first time, she felt as if she truly had something to look forward to. “Truly? It is just for me?”
Matilde stood beside her, smiling softly as Cordelia explored the new space. It was a small row of three raised planting gardens of a sufficient size. There was a wheeled cart between the two of them, overladen with tulip bulbs and various seed satchels. She could notwaitto explore what had been gifted to her. It was such a thoughtful gesture that she was almost at a loss for words. There was abundant natural light available as well. For the first time in weeks, she felt as if there was something that she could have here that she could call her own, rather than wandering these halls feeling like an intruder at every turn.
“Is the duke in his study?” Cordelia asked without thinking. “I should like to find him and express my gratitude.”
“His Grace is out for the afternoon, but he should be back at the estate for dinner, I believe.”
The disappointment was disproportionately crippling. She knew that she should not feel so sad over the fact that he, once again, was busy.
“Are Mary and Georgie in the parlor?” Cordelia asked, hoping to have somebody to share her good news with at least.
“I believe that Lady Mary is watching young Master George’s riding lesson this afternoon, Your Grace,” Matilde answered softly.
“Oh, but of course she would be. I do not know how I forgot,” Cordelia answered with equal softness as her hands tightened into fists in the fabric of her skirts.