Page 91 of A Bride for the Sinful Duke

“I merely wish to understand what reasons lie behind your refusal to pay your rents. We have never encountered such issues before,” he stated, hoping he came off as the approachable landlord he had always tried to be.

The tenants exchanged glances for a moment, and Hector was concerned this gathering would yield nothing good.

“The fact that your wife was raised in St. Catherine’s does not bode well for you,” one tenant finally informed Hector. “I do not mean to speak against the Duchess, but she does not appear to fit the position she has occupied.”

“We have all heard the stories of her mother’s passing. Such an illness would be remiss to ignore. I do not believe that your wife is a suitable woman to be the Duchess of Islington,” another said afterwards.

It was all so frustrating and ridiculous. None of these people knew anything about Juliet, yet they judged her as though she had been before their very eyes her entire life.

He had tried not to appear as offended as he felt and instead aimed to appeal to them.

“My wife is of sound health and mind, and she has put a lot of effort into being a fine duchess—which she is. You would watch how you speak about her. That aside, we have long since been in business, so my marriage should not be factored into whatever grievances you might have with me or my way of running things,” he pointed out.

“That is what you might think, Your Grace. But decision to marry such an unpredictable woman shows that you are likely to make even more questionable choices that would have dire consequences for all that depend on you,” the first tenant replied.

No matter what Hector said or did, no one was swayed to believe otherwise.

I am also under the cold glare of their scrutiny.

Hector had initially believed that they thought him untrustworthy solely because of his decision to marry Juliet, but he’d soon learned that they also found fault in who he was as a person.

On the second day, he had met some of his associates involved in the new business he had been trying to grow, and they had expressed concernsover his past that had filled him with dread.

“It is not that we do not trust you,” one of them voiced, uncertainty gleaming in his eyes as he addressed Hector. “It is just that… in as much as we hope that things have changed, we are wise enough to acknowledge that humans are not so easily shifted from their nature. You, Your Grace, have made some dubious personal decisions in the past. Your promiscuous activities have made their way in the form of murmurs and party chatter through nearly every household in London. And recently, you have taken a wife from a nunnery with a dubious history of its own. One cannot help but view it as an action taken to push the narrative that you are trying to make it look as though you have changed. A bid to hide the truth if you will.”

“Your rather adventurous hobbies would not pose a problem had it not been a trait your father also possessed in his youth. Although he eventually did away with such spirited trysts, he seemed to grow into more of an… I beg your pardon… unreliablecharacter towards the end of his life,” a second associate stated with a blank expression. “And he encountered many losses in income along the way.”

“Which Irecoveredonce I took on the title,” Hector felt the need to point out, ignoring the familiar feeling of inferiority settling within his bones.

“Yes, an impressive feat, truly. But what we are worried about is that you might have the same lapse in judgment that led your father to that unsavory position. Except, in your case, our investments would be tied up in the situation as well, making the losses even greater.”

And Hector had no idea what to say to them after that.

For weeks, he had given multiple reassurances and spoken to so many people. He had also asked his solicitors to find the source of the hearsay, but every single time, he seemed to fall short and invariably missed the mark.

There was always something new on their list that made him untrustworthy, something else to serve as the pillow with which they were smothering him.

He ached, both in his body and in his mind, and he longed to go home to Juliet.

In light of how badly he appeared to be failing at his responsibilities, he wondered if he even deserved to face her.

He had promised Lydia that he would care for her. His ability to do so was now at risk with no solution in sight as to how he could avert such a dire crisis.

Comparisons to his father served as a heavier anchor that held him down, reminding him that he did have severe failures to his name.

He had failed to save his mother, was unable to save his sister, and seemingly would fail to provide for his wife; a promise he had made to his sister which also seemed doomed to be compromised.

I cannot face you, Juliet. Not until I can solidify my promise to you that you will have nothing to worry about for the rest of your life.

Perhaps this was a sign of what he had always known. Maybe he wasn’t meant to receive any form of companionship and affection.

This was his fate for daring to be greedy and daring to want.

“Lord Somerton and Lady Anne are here to see you, Your Grace.”

Juliet immediately sat up straighter, eager to have some good company after the fiasco she had to endure two nights ago.

“Bring them in along with some refreshments, please,” she responded.

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