Page 27 of The Duke's Spinster Bride
“You are incapable of being anything but nice, Felton.” Benedict smiled.
“Not as far as my wife is concerned.” Frederick failed to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Honestly, living in a house with someone who is determined to hate you is utterly exhausting.”
“Well, you know what they say – the line between love and hate is awfully thin.” Benedict shrugged.
“In my case, the line is an insurmountable chasm. Made even more so by the fact that I do not hate her. My feelings are of lukewarm disinterest, at best.” Frederick made an emphatic gesture with his hand.
“If you say so.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I have never known you to be so distracted by someone that you cannot play a decent game of billiards. It’s almost enough to make me wish you had not gotten married.” Benedict’s tone made it obvious that he was only teasing.
Frederick sighed. “Well that makes two of us. It is hard to believe that this was the lesser of two evils.”
“The pastures will always seem fresher in another farmer’s field.” Benedict nodded sagely. “I would say that you might as well give up.”
“What do you mean?”
“We all know how this sort of thing ends, so why fight it? Why not just give in to your desires and fall in love with her?” He grinned.
Frederick gaped at him. “She hates me, Tolly. As far as Duchess Caverton is concerned, I am not even fit to be the dirt beneath her shoes.”
“Some men might like that.” His grin broadened.
“Well I do not.” He shook his head. “I was perfectly fine before all of this, living my nice, easy life. This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience where she got what she wanted, and I got what I wanted.”
“And what did you want?”
“To not have the eligible bachelorettes banging down my castle door to fling themselves at my feet.” He shrugged. “I wanted to be able to walk in my gardens without fear of being accosted by some desperate young woman looking for a rich husband.”
“And I would say you have what you want.”
“I suppose.”
“And what did she want?”
“Freedom.”
“Then it seems to me you both got what you wanted, did you not?” Benedict began tidying the table, carefully placing the balls back where they belonged. “Besides, you told me that you were only on honeymoon for two weeks. After that, you will return to London and go your separate ways.”
“Assuming we both survive the fortnight.” He gave his friend a weak smile.
“I am sure you will. You are the most liked person in the ton, you will win her over before long.” He clapped an affectionate hand on Frederick’s shoulder.
“I doubt it. I am done trying. If she wants to be miserable, fine. I shall just stay out of her way.” Frederick handed his cue to one of the servants and walked towards the door with Benedict beside him.
“Surely you can see the irony here?” Benedict asked.
“No.”
“You have spent most of the afternoon complaining about your wife, when all she has done is to live her life separately from you, which is what you wanted in the first place.” He ran a hand through his shot hair, leaving it tousled. “Well, aside from a few annoyances here and there, but you have always liked to keep things interesting.”
“Interesting is not infuriating.” Frederick pointed out.
“Besides, I still think that you care for her.”
“I do not.”
