Page 25 of A Duchess for the Mysterious Duke
In the end, her resolve was overpowered by sheer exhaustion. Another night brought with it the impatience and frustration ofbeing unable to sleep, and she at last dragged her tired body out of bed and slipped into the dark corridors of Hayward Estate. She crept silently down the stairs in the direction of the library, meaning to look for a book to read until she wore herself out and could at last get some rest.
She found that she was not the only one awake as soon as she entered the library. Across the room, with his back to her, was Phillip. He was crouched down next to one of the shelves, looking at the books there, and muttering to himself—though she could not hear what he said.
For a moment, she watched.
The pair of them were in the same room, and yet a world apart. She could take a few steps forward and alert him to her presence, but there was something cathartic about the way her physical space replicated the way she felt about her marriage in her heart. All this time, she had been holding fear and anger so close to her, but in this moment of quietude, Marina felt herself soften towards him. There, on the floor in the dark, he looked so much smaller than he had when they were arguing outside.
She tilted her head, her heart pulling her further down the hole as she recalled their closeness the last time they were there together in the dark. The thought embarrassed her, and Marina made to leave. Just as she turned her back, she heard him call her name like a gentle, quiet coaxing. Then again?—
“Marina…you can come in if you like. This is your home.”
For several seconds, she did not move. There was too much to unravel sitting just beneath the surface of his words. An impossible mound of muck to wade through sat between them. A part of her wanted to linger in this moment, to allow the softness to exist between them for as long as possible.
The part of her that won out felt differently. She had imagined so many horrible things about her husband ever since her conversation with his uncle, but those were abstract thoughts. They were her imagination running wild to fill in a blank space. What she did have to hold on to were the very real handful of moments when she felt that she had been able to break through to the real Phillip.
Marina knew that if she wanted her marriage to succeed, she owed it to herself and her husband to keep trying. When she turned, he stood before her looking very much as if he did not know how to move forward. His arms were linked behind his back, but his shoulders withered. His feet were squared, but his head hung low. When she took in his face—pale, ashen, and tired—Marina could not help but step forward and reach out her hand, stopping just short of touching his cheek when she saw him flinch. She withdrew but offered him a gentle expression. Not quite a smile, but close.
“You look unwell,” she said plainly by way of explanation for her behavior which she thought he might have considered too familiar. “Are you sleeping and eating well?”
He blew out a puff of air and diverted his gaze, forest green eyes cast down to the ground. “There has been a lot of work to do,” he answered softly.
“Is that what keeps you so late tonight?” Marina’s voice was gentle and neutral—he could answer her if he liked, but he also needed to know that she was capable of withdrawing her civility at any moment should he choose not to return her kindness. She could work for her marriage, yes, but it would not be helpful to either of them for her to work alone.
“No.” Phillip brought the book he was holding forth from behind his back and held it between his two palms. “What of you? You have not roamed the halls like a lonely specter for many nights.”
Something warm lit her heart as Marina realized that he may have been waiting for her to appear. She did her best to push it aside—there were more pressing issues to answer to than the fancy of her tender heart.
“I have had trouble sleeping as well, it would seem.”
Marina shrank away from Phillip as he stepped toward her, moving his head so that the dim lantern light from across the room could better illuminate her features. “You look unwell,” he echoed her earlier sentiment in a mutter. His eyes darkened with that same strange emotion she had not yet been able to pin down. His gaze did not waver from her, and she felt rooted to her spot.
“What is the book for? If not for work.”
“Ah.” Phillip shifted the book in his hands but still refused to shift his eyes away from his young wife. Something was missing from her—the shimmer which had originally drawn him to her. The spark of life which the ton had touted as her least desirable trait and which he, intrigued, had followed to her home to ask for her hand. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he was responsible for extinguishing it. Then loudly, prominently, he admonished himself—of course, he was. “It is a book that my mother often read. I find myself pondering what advice she might give me if she were still here. I thought perhaps that this would lend me some piece of her, so I might find the answer to my question.”
Marina’s heart throbbed. She herself had spent many days, especially directly after her mother’s accident, immersing herself in the things the departed loved the most, hoping to find one last piece of her there.
“I found solace in the garden for the same reason.”
At last, Phillip released her from his gaze when she said this. “I apologize, Marina, if I have had a part in rendering the garden less of an oasis for you,” he sighed. “It was not my intention. I hope that you are able to spend as much time there as you want.”
“I am of stronger mental fortitude than I must look,” she answered, her tone firm but her voice gentle. “Had we spoken to each other so sorely here, it would be me who owed you an apology.”
“It is all the worse for that—I understand your pain but could not see it.”
“We must not believe ourselves capable of anticipating the thoughts and emotions of others, Phillip.”
“Your Grace.”
“Sorry?”
“Please. You said once that you would call me Phillip only when you were cross. I…I know that at some point we must discuss what has festered between us, but I would very much like to know that you are not cross with me. This night, I mean.”
Marina’s eyes flickered with a realization—there was something going on behind her husband’s intense eyes that even she could not fathom. He was waging a battle he was not yet ready to share with her, but how could she perform her duties to him if he did not share?
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“I believe that I must come across to you as being terribly worldly. I would like to ask, though I admit I know it is quite a great deal to ask, that you understand this, Marina. Whatever it is that was written about where I was or what I did while I was away, no matter what grand experiences it may cross your mind that I have had, you are the only woman I have ever married. I donot intend to marry a second time. I would like to learn how to…engage with you in a manner that benefits us both.”
