Page 20 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

To this, Benedict had no answer. However, he knew one thing for sure—this marriage could not go on. As to what he meant to do about that? He hadn’t a clue.

Chapter Six

The moment they arrived at Northwick Estate, Benedict bolted out of the carriage as if it was on fire. The staff were standing outside, awaiting his arrival, but he stormed past them and inside without so much as a word.

“Well, that was rude,” Selina muttered to herself as she watched him go. “Not that I can blame him,” she then added, finding it strange that she was so willing to explain away the Duke’s temper.

Used to how angry her mother often made her, perhaps this was the one time that she could understand too well why her husband felt the same way.

Look at us, finding common ground.

By the time Selina alighted from the carriage, there was an elderly butler standing there, waiting for her. He was grey in the hair and wrinkled in the face, with a slightly bent back, but he stood as tall as he could, and his smile was kind.

“Welcome, Your Grace,” he greeted her. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, finally.”

“Thank you,” she said with much relief as he helped her step down from the carriage. “I am sorry about His Grace, I am not entirely sure what has gotten into him.”

The butler chuckled. “Oh, do not let that worry you. I have served His Grace since he was yay tall—” He indicated just below his knees. “And I am more than familiar with his moods. My name is Mr. Harris, and I am the head of staff here at Northwick Estate.”

“Wonderful.”

“Please…” He offered her his arm. “Leave your belongings, for they will be brought up to your room shortly. For now, I believe that a tour is what is needed. This is, after all, your new home, and it will not do for it to feel like anything other than that.”

Selina let out another sigh of relief and gave her first genuine smile in weeks. “That would be perfect, thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace.”

As horribly as the day had begun, the rest was rather pleasant. Mr. Harris was kind and affable and even funny. He introduced Selina to the staff before leading her through the large manor, where he made sure to guide her through its intricacies and peculiarities. From the dining area to the reading room to the drawing room to the library to the ballroom and everything in between.

The manor was even larger than the one she had grown up in, and she wondered how easy it would be to avoid her husband if she so wished it. Even though at that moment, it felt as if he was avoiding her.

“Tell me, Harris,” she began carefully as they made their way back into the foyer.

She stopped short, looking upon a large portrait of a child who she presumed was the Duke in his younger years. No older than twelve, covered in the same scars, it was the portrait of the master of the house—strange for one so young.

“Has Benedict—His Grace, I mean. Has he always been…” She grimaced, not certain how to ask the question.

“So short-tempered?” Mr. Harris chuckled.

“Well, yes,” she sighed. “It is just that he is next-to-impossible to read. One moment he seems calm and perfectly reasonable, and the next…” she trailed off, not wanting to offend.

Mr. Harris, still holding her by the arm, gave it a gentle pat. “He was a lively child, I will tell you that much. So full of energy that I once suggested to his father that we tie him to a tree in the yard so he can run in circles and wear himself out.” He laughed at the memory. “As expected, sadly, that energy went away after the accident.”

“Accident?” She assumed he was referring to the scars.

Strange that nobody she had spoken with seemed to know their cause—all she had ever heard were guesses and gossip that ranged from being caught in a house fire, to having set the fire himself so as to murder his parents, to being born with them as if the Devil himself wished the world to know how rotten he was.

“It is not my place to say,” Mr. Harris said seriously. “I am sure that His Grace will tell you when he feels the time is right.”

She clicked her tongue. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“What I will tell you is that it occurred when he was young. That is the reason why…” He gestured to the portrait. “He inherited the dukedom at such a young age, at a time in his life when pain was all he knew. It changed him, forced him to become a man long before he should have had the thought in his head.”

“He does seem a touch serious.” She chuckled.

Mr. Harris laughed along. “He is not always that way. Yes, his mood can sometimes get the best of him. But I assure you, Your Grace, that there is a soft, gentle side that he rarely lets others see. But with you being his wife…” He smiled, and the two started toward the stairs. “If you are patient, I have no doubt that soon, that is all you will know.”

“I hope so, Harris.”

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