Duke of Thorns

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Duke of Thorns Page 7

by Monroe, Jennifer


  “Cecilia?” he asked in a quiet voice. If she was asleep, he would not disturb her, but he did wish to know if she was as sleepless as he. “Cecilia? Are you awake?”

  He neared the bed and his heart jumped to his throat. The bed was empty.

  His mind raced. Where could she have gone? Panic rushed through him as he glanced around for any sign that the woman was still in the house; however, upon finding the wardrobe filled with clothes and toiletries still on her vanity table, he felt a sense of relief. Yet, where could she have gone?

  Then he heard a voice just outside the French doors that led to a small veranda that overlooked the gardens. He could not make out the words, but there was no mistaking the soft tone of his wife.

  “Cecilia?” he whispered, hoping he would not startle her too much.

  However, despite how quiet he tried to be, the woman jumped as if the dead had come upon her. “Benjamin?” she squeaked as she peered at him in the light of the moon. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to check on you,” he replied. “What are you doing out here, and without a housecoat? Are you not afraid of getting a chill?”

  Her laughter was melodious and sent a strange, but pleasant, shiver down his spine. “Not at all. However, let us go back inside. I will light a candle so we are able to see one another properly.”

  He followed her into the room and soon the space glowed in the soft candlelight. The dressing gown his wife wore left little to the imagination, and Benjamin found himself licking his lips in an attempt to return moisture. However, his mouth and throat had gone so dry, the motion did nothing to alleviate his discomfort. “Where is Angie?” he managed to croak. “Should she not be here with you?”

  “She was not feeling well so I sent her down to see Mrs. Bradley for a powder and some hot milk to help her sleep. She will be back in a few moments, I imagine.”

  “I see,” Benjamin replied, surprised at the disappointment that rained on him. “I wish to speak to you, if I might.”

  “But of course,” she replied and led him to two chairs in the front sitting room. “What would you like to discuss?”

  She had covered herself with her housecoat, and Benjamin found himself wishing he could have seen more of her. However, he pushed aside such frivolous feelings and returned to the matter at hand. The anger he had fretted over all day seemed to have dissipated, and he wondered if he had wasted his time on such drivel. He also wondered if bringing it back up was a wise idea, but he had to be sure she was not still angry. Yet, a part of him warred against such action; what did it matter if she was upset? Were her emotions his problem?

  “I wish to continue with our conversation of this morning during breakfast,” he said. He was here, he may as well continue. “I imagine there is more you wish to express, and perhaps it is time I hear what you have to say.” He was surprised he had uttered the latter words.

  She sighed deeply before speaking. “It is as I said before. I feel as if you mock me and take no heed to what I have learned thus far. It is not an easy task becoming a Duchess when I have had very little exposure to such a position.”

  “Well, I suppose I can see that you believe that to be the case, but I am simply ascertaining that you are conducting yourself in an appropriate manner and nothing more.”

  “And what of the party? Why did you feel the need to leave your new wife alone at her first social gathering? You seemed so proud at first, and then you were gone.”

  He chuckled at this. “Do you need me to hold your hand? You seemed to conduct yourself quite well in my absence. I received several compliments about you by the end of the night. I must admit that I was surprised at how well you were received.”

  This seemed to shock Cecilia. “But why did you not tell me? I felt an utter failure that night, and those words would have lifted my spirits immensely. This is exactly what I speak of. You are quick to criticize and slow to compliment. A woman thrives or dies on the words of her husband.”

  He had never heard such a thing. Women certainly were the weaker of the sexes, but most women he knew, unless they were of the lower or working class, could stand on their own. They did not need their husband’s approval as far as he knew. His mother had never needed such supports as far as he knew.

  “So, you wish for me to compliment you, perhaps shower you with words of adoration and flowery poetry simply so you can be satisfied?” He stood, the previous feelings of goodwill now gone. “You are a selfish woman if you believe it is my duty to present you with gifts and well-wishes at every turn. Most women in your position do not complain of mistreatment when their husband has not put a hand on her or demeaned her. Granted, I might not speak with prose in my words, but I do not mistreat you and call you down as some women must endure. I am who I am, and you will not change me. Therefore, you must accept me for who I am.”

  Before she could say another word, he stormed out of the room. How dare she make him feel inadequate and lacking in his position as a Duke! Did she not realize that finding ways to please her was not high on his list? He had an entire estate to run, several business ventures to attend to, and more people besides her with whom to concern himself. If he failed in business, he failed more than her; he failed all those he employed as well as his good name. No, she had no right to be disappointed with him, and he would remind her again tomorrow of her place in this family.

  Chapter Nine

  The day dawned with heavy clouds and a promise of rains later in the day, and Cecilia sat in a chair beside the window to work by what light shone through. Although her fingers moved deftly, working blue thread through a white square of cloth that would become another handkerchief, her mind was on the conversation from the previous night.

  She tried with all her might to place all the blame for her discontent on Benjamin, but much of what he said the previous night had rung true to her heart. He had much on which to focus his time, and a man of his position could not while away his time drowning his wife in gifts and heartfelt poetry. Yet, she wished for some type of appreciation for what she was doing, how she had embraced her part as Duchess of Thornbrook, especially when she lacked the experience of the inner workings of the nobility.

  Granted, she had not had any opportunity to try her hand at playing the Duchess beyond the walls of Bantry Estate beyond the single night at the party. It pleased her that Benjamin had received compliments concerning her comportment; if only he had thought to pass on such high regards to her, it would have been a much easier two weeks. Instead, she had spent most of the time fretting that she had embarrassed not only herself but him as well.

  She shook her head. Her parents had such a wonderful relationship that to see a man so devoid of emotion was strange to her. However, as she considered everything, her thoughts went to Benjamin’s parents. Had they, perhaps, been married out of convenience, much as she and Benjamin had? If so, then there might have been a chance that love had not grown between the two. They only had two children, after all. Maybe he had never had the chance to witness how love could make a marriage that much more enjoyable.

  There was one other issue that plagued her mind, one that made her feel both relieved and concerned at the same time. He had yet to come to her bed. It was her understanding that a man had needs, and from what she had heard, if he was not meeting those needs in the marriage bed, then there was a chance he was finding other places in which to address those urges.

  The day would come, however, when he would need an heir, so the fact that he would come to her bed at one point or another was not in question. It was the when that had her guessing every night when she heard his step as he walked past her door. Last night had been the first time he had been to her rooms since she first arrived, but if she really considered it, she had not once given him reason to believe she would accept him if he were to come. Not that she had a choice in the matter, of course, but she would not deny him the chance at an heir. A chance to give her, as much as himself, a child.

  When sh
e looked down at the handkerchief, she sighed when she realized that she had stitched yet another with a blue flower. Cornflowers were her among her favorites, but one could only have so many handkerchiefs with cornflowers stitched in the corners.

  Rather than beginning a new pattern, she decided to pull out the stitching and begin again. As she worked, an image of Benjamin came to her and with it an idea. Once the threads were removed, she began again, this time with a distinct idea in her head.

  It was time she took on her role as the wife of a Duke, and if Benjamin was not willing to take those first steps of building their relationship, she would do it on her own.

  ***

  The afternoon progressed quickly, and after taking a much-needed walk through the garden to stretch her stiff legs after hours of sitting, Cecilia returned to her rooms and readied herself for dinner. It never ceased to amaze her how much time it could take to dress simply to eat a meal. If it were up to her, she would have a tray brought up to her room so she could eat in her shift, or perhaps taken it outside to be eaten al fresco.

  That could not happen this evening, even if it had been a choice, for the rain had come in strong and fierce, beating a rhythm on the windows and blowing drafts through every available tiny opening of the house. A fire blazed bright and hot in the fireplace of her bedroom, making the room warm and inviting. Tonight would have been a nice time to have a tray sent up.

  She would not do that, however, for if anyone was to present an olive branch to her new husband, it would be she as the one to do it, and she could not very well do so from the comfort of her bedroom.

  Angie finished tightening the stays of her bodice and Cecilia sat before the mirror to allow the woman to work on her mane of hair. A curling iron sat on a small stand and Angie deftly heated it before applying it to Cecilia’s hair.

  “I can’t believe this storm,” Angie said as she grabbed another bit of hair and rolled it around the rod. “I never did like the wind.”

  “Yes, it is quite blustery out there,” Cecilia agreed.

  In short time, Angie had Cecilia’s newly formed curls swept up on top of her head and held with a light blue ribbon that matched her dress. “There we are. All ready to go.”

  “Thank you, Angie,” Cecilia said as she patted her hair. However, her mind was not on her hair, but rather on her husband and his outlook on the idea that he was now a married man. Would he never come to be pleased that he had a wife?

  Cecilia set her jaw and stood. If the man would not see reason, then perhaps it was her turn to see that he did. Granted, she could not force him to have feelings for her, no more than she could be forced to have feelings for him. However, one thing she could do was be settled in her position. There would be no changing the path her life had taken, but she could resign herself to it. Defiantly, if necessary.

  By the time she reached the dining room, the candles had been lit in the large chandelier that hung above the table. Though as many as twenty could dine there, the only places set were one at the far end, at the head, and one to the right of that place. Benjamin was already there and he rose when Cecilia entered.

  She glanced up at the pendulum clock and saw she had arrived at exactly seven. Benjamin gave her a slight nod as the footman pulled out her chair for her. Whether or not he was pleased by her punctuality, it was difficult to determine, but Cecilia refused to fret over it. If the man worried about something so trivial, then he would be the one to endure it, not her.

  “How was your day?” Cecilia asked as a footman set a bowl of what smelled like leek soup before her.

  “Adequate,” came Benjamin’s curt reply.

  “I hope the rain did not make your ride into town too dreadful.”

  “Not at all.”

  Cecilia shook her head. The man was as unyielding as a post. “And the Parstels? They are well?” She remembered the elderly couple from the party at Sharply Estates, although she knew nothing more than their names and faces. However, she would find a chink in this man’s armor one way or another.

  Benjamin stopped his sopping of the remainder of his soup with a piece of bread and stared at her. “Is this how we will spend the remainder of our meals, with you chattering on throughout each course?”

  “Perhaps,” Cecilia replied with as much curtness as he had given her. “A meal is better digested when good conversation accompanies it.” She did not know if this was true or not, but it made for a good adage.

  The corner of his mouth turned up for the merest of moments and then was gone. So, he was not as rigid as she thought. “Very well, then, what shall we discuss?” he asked as he waited for his bowl to be removed. “Perhaps you would be interested in the intricacies of the sale of copper? Or we could discuss the purchase of new handles for the hammers the miners will use while removing such ore from the mines?” He continued, adding mock interest. “Oh, I know! I am sure you would be highly interested in knowing about my meeting with a Mr. Walson to procure a new wheel for one of the carts?”

  Cecilia pursed her lips and glared at him. How dare he mock her for simply attempting to strike up a conversation! She took a deep, quiet breath. Well, let him be a brute; she would remain the lady she now was. “If that is what you wish to discuss, then by all means, do so. I will be interested in whatever subject you broach.”

  Benjamin sighed heavily. “No, you are right. Perhaps a bit of conversation would be a pleasant alternative to eating in silence. However, you do not want to hear about the goings on of business, so allow me to answer at least one of your questions. My day was dismal, as was the weather. However, I did have a pleasant meeting with Mr. Parstel. Mrs. Parstel sent her regards, by the way. Apparently, the woman was quite taken with you at the Drameda’s.”

  It took everything in Cecilia to not roll her eyes at the man. Once again, he had neglected to pass on comments that concerned her, and she was sick to death of it. “Why is it that you choose not to tell when someone has said something kind about me? Do you not believe I would enjoy knowing that someone sees me in a good light? Or any light for that matter? And if Mrs. Parstel had asked you to pass on her regards, would it not have been prudent to do as she requested and tell me?”

  The man snorted. “Did I not just do that?” he asked. Then he waved her off as the main course was served, leg of lamb and potatoes. “Now, let us return to our dinner.”

  Cecilia pushed her food around on the plate for the remainder of the meal. The man was insufferable. Well, she would continue to make attempts to reach the man, for she was not one to give up when she had it in her mind to do something.

  After dinner, Cecilia followed Benjamin into the drawing room. It had become their custom in the short time they had been married to retire after eating for Cecilia to drink a coffee and Benjamin a glass of port. Then they would sit before the fireplace, whether it be lit or not, in silence.

  This night, however, Cecilia had different plans.

  “Benjamin?”

  “Yes,” he said, though he did not seem to truly give her his attention.

  “I have something for you.”

  He turned to face her. “Is that so?” he asked in surprise.

  She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out one of the handkerchiefs she had been embroidering earlier that day. “I made this for you,” she said as she handed it to him. “I used red and black to match the colors in your crest. I also will be working on another with the family crest on it, but that will take much more time.”

  He stared at the piece of cloth without saying a word. Cecilia wondered if he was somehow offended by her gift, but she could not see how making him a handkerchief could be seen as offensive. However, so often, she found that what she thought was wrong, it would not surprise her that she had, indeed, done something she should not have.

  “It’s lovely,” he said in a choked voice. “I do not believe I have ever received such a thoughtful gift.”

  Cecilia wondered if he was teasing her, but in his eyes she coul
d see that he was not. “I am glad you like it,” she replied. A flush went through her body as he looked at her. It was nice to see the man smile for a change.

  Chapter Ten

  The rain lifted and the sun broke through the clouds. For the first time in a week, Cecilia was able to go for a stroll through the gardens. She had missed the open air, the confines of the house seeming to close in on her, and more than once she stopped, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply, as if she had never smelled the cleanness of being outdoors.

  Since the night she gave Benjamin the handkerchief, he had allowed her to bring up at least one topic of discussion at the dinner table, though he seemed to tire of it within a short amount of time. However, she would accept what she could, for being the lady of such a large house was a life much lonelier than one would expect. If she could not have conversations with her husband, with whom could she? Angie was pleasant company, but she had her own chores to complete, and it was not right of Cecilia to keep her from her labors simply so she had a companion.

  She continued to refuse to hire someone with whom she could spend time. It seemed odd to her that anyone would wish to pay another person for their company, and she would not do so, if only out of principal. Her parents had enjoyed many years of conversation and companionship, so Cecilia knew it was possible, if she could break through her husband’s rough exterior. Unless what lay beneath was just as hard and difficult to pierce.

  As she neared a bed of Pinks, she took a quick glance around to determine that no one was nearby and then lowered herself so she could reach in and pull a few of the weeds that grew in the dirt. The feel of the cool soil between her fingers was a welcoming sensation and soon she was engrossed in the task before her.

  It was not long, however, when she heard the scuffle of feet on the other side of a large hedge, so she rose from the ground as if an asp was hissing at her and hid the offensive plants in the pocket of her dress before anyone could see them.

 

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