Page 39 of My Ruthless Duke
“I want to sleep with you, Dorian. To share a bed with my husband. I have never had to sleep alone before coming here. It is harder for me than I ever expected it would be. I do not know how to…”
Dorian’s hand dropped, and he watched as she seemed almost moved to tears while speaking before she stopped and shook her head. He could not stand being the one to make her feel like this. He hated that she was so upset, and he knew it was wholly and completely his fault. Why was it that every time he thought he was starting to do the right thing, it was backfiring on him?
If it would help, did he truly have the right to refuse her? Was this whole arrangement not supposed to ease the suffering that he had placed upon her family in the first place?
“All right,” Dorian conceded. “I will try, I cannot guarantee that it shall–”
Cordelia’s answering smile silenced everything that he had been about to say. To keep her smiling like that, there was almost nothing he would not do. He would simply have to find a way to make it work, one way or another. He just had to hope that, in the meantime, the feelings that were nearly overwhelming him were not going to make him fall for her completely.
Chapter 19
Is this how I lose my mind?
Perhaps it was the very last vestiges of sanity fraying and slipping out of his grasp. Had he wholly and completely overestimated his capacity here? He had only taken her as his wife in the first place to assuage his guilt over his involvement with her father… and now it was only growing.
Never before in his life had Dorian doubted his own capabilities of handling whatever task that he set his mind to. He was a gentleman of firm morals and standards. Even if they were his own, instead of what society might have otherwise deemed unacceptable or acceptable.
Every passing day that was spent with Cordelia, the love in his chest grew painfully. It filled his heart until he could not take it. The guilt was still in equal measure. Every time that he thought about telling his wife the truth, he simply imagined the horrified look on her face. He imagined her crying, perhaps crumbling tothe floor, telling him how much she hated him. All of which were outcomes that he simply could not allow to happen.
“Brother?” Mary asked from the doorway to his study. It was messier than it had been the last few times she had come to visit. Dorian had not even properly noticed the way his study appeared to be in shambles until he was aware of the fact that a second pair of eyes were now upon his space.
He looked up from his work, awkwardly starting to push papers aside to make space for the tea tray his sister held in her hands. He was of a mind to attempt to explain that things were not the way they looked, or perhaps apologize for his uncharacteristic untidiness, but the words would not come out. However, he could feel her judgment in the way her eyes swept over the space, examining the books propped open, the bits of ink where they ought not to be, and the sheer number of ledgers and papers scattered over his desk.
“You did not need to bring me anything,” Dorian said as she placed the silver tray down on the cleared space of the desk. Mary did not answer at first, humming a noise of assent and rolling her shoulders. Silence stretched as she set about pouring them both a cup of tea and extending his out to him. He took it, even if he did not much feel like drinking it. “Is there something that I can assist you with, Sister?”
Mary turned and looked about the room, her eyes roaming over the bookshelves and the general unkemptness he had surrounded himself with. Then, she finally stopped at the curtains that were still snapped shut behind him despite theafternoon sun still high in the sky. He had already spent far too many hours peering out of that window toward the greenhouse, and he could not afford to become any more derelict in his duties than he already was. “When was the last time you got some fresh air, Dorian?”
“Is that what you came in here to ask me?” Dorian’s hand rubbed the stubble on his chin as he answered, hating that she might have a point already and that he was in denial of it.
“I came in here to see to my brother, is that a crime?”
Dorian was sorely tempted to point out that any time she hadevercome to see him in here had resulted in an argumenteverytime. But he forced himself to stay quiet.
“No. I do not think so, but I will reserve my final answer until I know the reason for your visit.”
“Are you always so suspicious of everything? It is a wonder that your forehead is not covered in wrinkles,” Mary said with a sigh as she stirred her tea slowly. “I think you are in this study far more than Father ever was.”
Dorian’s brow flattened. “I am not interested in discussing history right now, Mary. I am very busy with work, and discussing our father is certain to put me in a terrible mood.”
“Oh, is there a time when you are not in a foul temper?” Mary teased, the hint of a smirk lifting the corner of her lip that she quickly covered with her teacup and drank slowly.
“Why do you not just go ahead and say whatever it is that you were hoping to accomplish with this visit so that you can relocate elsewhere?” Dorian said with a heavy sigh.
“Honestly, why you are so determined to be miserable at every possible opportunity is something I shall never understand.” Mary set her teacup down on his desk just softly enough to keep the contents from sloshing over as she fell heavily into one of the seats across from him. “Despite what you might think, Dorian, I do care for you. I might not have forgiven you, and I might not ever truly forgive you for abandoning me back then, but this? I cannot stand by and watch you self-destruct like this.”
Dorian frowned and set his quill down. He moved the papers in front of him absently in hopes that he could ignore her words. “I do not understand your meaning.”
“Do not play dumb with me, it is not a look that flatters you,” Mary snapped. “Do not cheapen my concern for you with your quips either.”
“What would you have me do?”
“I think you should tell Cordelia the truth,” Mary said simply.
The bluntness of her words took him off guard momentarily.
“Be realistic,” Dorian said and shook his head.
“Iambeing realistic, Dorian! I see the way you look at her. You spend hours pining after the woman who is yourwife. You do her no credit by constantly underestimating what she is and is not capable of handling! You should not be making that choice for her. She is not some frail little wallflower for you to make choices for. She is a woman who knows her own mind and is far stronger than you believe her to be.”