Page 30 of Her Tiger of a Duke
“You were not thinking. I told you that I did not like it, and I told you why. You chose to disrespect me, and no matter what your reason was it was unfair. I did not deserve that, Beatrice.”
Silence fell again, and when they returned home, she walked away from him, straight to her room.
“Ensure she has a bath,” he told Mrs. Forsythe.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I do not dare repeat it, lest I anger myself again. I am going to my study for a while. Cook will have to prepare dinner for us after all.”
His housekeeper simply nodded, then turned to follow Beatrice upstairs. Owen, meanwhile, took himself away to his study and sat at his desk in silence, his face in his hand. They had been getting along so well, and she had ruined it. From what he had heard, she was a quiet lady, one who hardly ever spoke her mind, but that had not been his experience with her at all.
He thought that she was foolish and willful, unable to keep her thoughts to herself, and when she wanted to make herself known she did so at any cost. It was a trait that unnerved him greatly, for it meant that she would gladly put herself in danger again, which he could not risk.
He took a deep breath and tried to remember how she was feeling. It was understandable that she was acting out of sorts;in the space of a few years, each of her friends had been married off and left her behind. When she made another friend, Lady Helena, that friend ran off too. She had not been able to forge bonds that lasted, and that was enough to drive anyone mad. It was not helped by the fact that she had parents who pointed out her every flaw whenever they could.
She was lonely and without prospects, and that was more than enough reason to change completely.
Even so, he wished that she would listen to him. He was her husband, and in spite of what she expected of men he was not going to lead her astray. The rules that he had were for her sake, and all that she had to do was respect them. He did not think that was too difficult.
An hour later, he heard her door close firmly. He could hear muffled voices and quick footsteps, and it was enough to draw him out of his study to listen.
“You need only give him a chance,” Mrs. Forsythe explained. “It may seem as though he is doing this without reason but believe me that is not the case.”
“So you said before, but unless I know those reasons I cannot always behave as he thinks best. Nobody seems to have any answers for me; they just say that that is how it is and expect me to accept it. Well, I do not. I cannot sit and simper while my husband dictates my every move.”
“His Grace wishes to keep you safe.”
“It was a river, and it was only just deep enough for me to swim in to begin with. I was hardly in peril.”
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Forsythe said gently, “I understand that you are not happy with the Duke, but please try to understand that he is only doing what he thinks is best. It has been a long time since he was tasked with taking care of someone, and it will take a while for him to adjust.”
Owen’s breath hitched in his throat. His housekeeper had said too much, but he could not interrupt them; it would only make matters worse.
“What do you mean?” he heard Beatrice ask. “Who did he care for before? His parents?”
He bit his lip, hoping that Mrs. Forsythe would keep to the rules, because he simply could not discuss the truth with his wife yet. He hoped that he would never have to.
“He… he cared for his mother before she passed,” she replied at last. “She was difficult in her final months, and His Grace had to be strict with her. He will soften, but he needs time.”
Owen let out his breath, leaning against the wall and thanking his housekeeper for her quick thinking. He would not punish her in any way, for she had only been trying to help, but he hoped that she would learn from this experience.
“Well, I suppose you are right,” Beatrice replied, but by that point they were too far away for him to hear what they were discussing any further.
What mattered was that she had found an understanding, as had he. He would seek her out before dinner and settle their differences, but in the meantime he had a thought, one that he wished he had sooner. He entered his study again, taking out his stationery and penning three letters.
He addressed each to his wife’s friends, not saying too much but telling them that he wanted to invite them to stay for a few days. Their children were welcome, and it was for Beatrice’s sake. He ensured that they did not worry about her, but he made it clear that she was missing her companions.
At least, that was what he hoped was the case. If it were not, then it meant she was being deliberate in her choice to disobey him.
When enough time had passed that he knew dinner would be soon, he left the room, handing his letters off to be delivered. He searched for his wife and found her in the parlor room with a book. Suddenly, his words left him and all he could do was sit near her, waiting for her to acknowledge him, and for a while she did not.
“If you want me to leave,” she said at last, “I will do so. You need only say the word, for I know better than to disobey now.”
“Beatrice, I apologize for the way I spoke to you. It was wrong of me to be so coarse.”
“It was,” she replied, eyes not leaving her page. “You do many things that I do not agree with, and yet I do not raise my voice.”
“You were not listening to me.”
