Page 41 of Her Lion of a Duke
She fell silent, pushing her food around her plate for a moment before placing her fork down and looking into his eyes. “Could you remind me?”
“It is practical, mutually beneficial. You have security, and I have a wife.”
“Yes, well, practical does not mean hostile.”
“I am not being hostile!”
“Then what are you being?”
It was his turn to look uncertain, shifting in his seat and avoiding her gaze.
Suddenly, she did not want him to talk at all. She wanted to wake up from whatever nightmare she was having and find his usual self. It felt awful, having a disagreement when she knew he was not doing well, but not knowing what she had done was worse.
“I am being reasonable,” he replied, at last. “I value you immensely, but we must be realistic. This was never a love match; we never courted, and in the grand scheme of things, it is not as though we are truly married.”
Cecilia did not respond to that. She did not want to give him the satisfaction, nor did she wish to dignify such a ridiculous notion.
All her fears came flooding back.
She stood up, neatly folding her napkin and placing it down on her plate. Leonard did not consider them married, nor did he view her as his wife. It was a devastating blow, but she would never let him see that.
“Very well,” she said softly. “I thank you for the clarification.”
She left the room without looking back.
She donned her coat, went to the stables, and asked a stable hand to saddle a horse for her. Within minutes, she was ridingthrough the estate, the wind pulling her hair loose and making it flutter behind her.
She wanted to ride out of the estate, out of London, to anywhere but where she was. It would have been easier to start again as a normal lady and live an honest life. She had the means to do so hidden away in her bedchambers, so it would not be impossible.
She slowed the horse, breathing heavily. Running away would be the easier thing to do, but was it what she wanted?
She thought back to what Mrs. Herrington had said: that Leonard was facing difficulties because of the time of year, and that he would overcome them eventually, but that she had a choice. She could allow him to continue behaving as he did, or she could say something to him.
The latter option seemed better, of course. She wanted to unravel him, to learn what he was thinking and why it made him so suddenly cruel. But at that moment, she knew that she could not.
With the way they had left things, she could not face him for a while. She was still angry, and that anger would have to subside before she could show him any sympathy.
Cecilia had hidden many things over the years, but her anger was something that she could not conceal. It always burst out at the worst possible time.
She rode the horse to the greenhouse and tethered it outside. She walked through the doors and sat among the plants, trying to calm herself.
It was warm in there, and the air was fragrant, which comforted her greatly. She had never cared much for plants until Beatrice shared her love for them with her. Thanks to years of listening to her, Cecilia could name almost everything around her, and she repeated the names to herself until she was calm once more.
She lay down on the cool ground, staring up at the clouds until her eyes closed.
“A greenhouse is no place for a duchess to sleep.”
Cecilia did not know how long she had been there, nor how long she had been sleeping, but she knew that the housekeeper would tell her eventually.
She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position.
“Mrs. Herrington?” she asked. “What happened?”
“That is what I am hoping you will tell me. You have been missing for a few hours now. His Grace found Brutus outside and decided this was where you are.”
“Is he here?” she asked, her back stiffening.
“No,” Mrs. Herrington replied hesitantly. “He sent me to get you. It would appear that the two of you have had an issue of sorts?”
