Page 29 of Claimed By the Duke of Ice

He was about to drown his sorrows in whiskey once more when the door to his office opened, and Mrs. Snievely walked in. He looked at her, startled. Every servant he had, including his long-obtained Mrs. Snievely, knew that a knock and permission were needed before entering a room. Nathaniel looked up at her, expecting to see a look of guilt, but was greeted with a challenging expression.

“Have you forgotten yourself, Mrs. Snievely?” he asked as she made his way toward his desk.

“Beggin’ ye pardon, Your Grace, but no, I certainly have not,” she replied matter-of-factly, looking him square in the eyes.

Her short response startled him, and his brow furrowed as he looked her up and down.

“What has gotten into you?” he asked as he stood up. “You know better than to talk to me in such a way, Mrs. Snievely. Even you are not above a dismissal.”

Mrs. Snievely tossed an empty envelope onto his desk and pointed at it. Nathaniel’s first urge was to swipe it off his desk, but as he glared at his housekeeper, he saw a warning in her fearless, aged eyes. Begrudgingly, he picked it up and read the label. It was from Grace’s parents.

“Before you were married, it was in my best interest to look after you,” Mrs. Snievely explained, nodding toward the letter, “but once you brought our mistress home, you charged me with looking after her and helping her become a good duchess for Ninter. I have done my best, Your Grace, to make our new duchess as happy and comfortable as possible, but you are making it into an impossible task.”

“What has she told you?” Nathaniel immediately demanded, tossing the envelope back on his desk.

“She won’t say a peep about you, Your Grace,” Mrs. Snievely replied, “but you should have seen her face when she received this letter. It’s from her parents. I’ve never seen such a bout of homesickness in a person as I have with my mistress. Whatever is happening between the two of you, it is making her miserable. She’s even talked of writing back to her parents, requesting them to let her stay with them for a time.”

Worry quickly replaced Nathaniel’s anger, and he scooped up the envelope. Love was evident throughout the entire missive which stated hope for his and Grace’s marriage and a willingness to come and visit them if she was so lonely. Guilt swept through him as his eyes continued down the page and saw the blurred splashes from where Grace’s tears had fallen. Nathaniel dropped the letter as if it burned him.

“I have tried for several days now to speak with her,” Nathaniel stated. “She won’t see me.”

“Aye. and she thinks it is for your benefit,” Mrs. Snievely agreed. “But she is in her chambers now, working on a response to her parents.”

Nathaniel stood up and came around his desk, only to stop in front of Mrs. Snievely.

“Thank you for this, Mrs. Snievely,” he said, bowing his head in a small, appreciative gesture.

For the first time, the scowl on Mrs. Snievely’s face faded, and she looked up at him with worrisome eyes.

“I have watched you grow from a young, small boy into a strong, sturdy man, Your Grace,” she replied, her tone full of affection, “and I have always respected your needs and boundaries. But your bride—she is a good woman, Your Grace. One that might be worth exploring your boundaries for, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Nathaniel nodded his head, and without another word, he made his way up the grand staircase. Taking a note from Mrs. Snievely’s tactics, he decided to forgo knocking and walked straight into Grace’s chambers. As he marched in, Grace looked at him from her writing desk. Her look of shock at the intrusion quickly turned into annoyance, and she looked away from him again.

“Your Grace, I understand that you are the master of this house and this marriage, but I had assumed that I would at least get to keep my privacy since you want nothing to do with me.”

Nathaniel’s words from the other night suddenly came back and bit him hard in the arse, and he flinched.

“That’s not what I said,” he replied stiffly, his eyes dashing down on the floor. “In fact, I have tried to speak with you for several days now, and it has—well, it hasn’t gone well, I suppose.”

“I am simply trying to give you the space you so obviously crave,” Grace replied evenly, her eyes still trained on him.

“Indeed,” Nathaniel murmured, stepping closer as he felt a wave of guilt hit him square in the chest.

“I was out of sorts when we last spoke,” he continued. “There were many things I shouldn’t have said. I am not used to sharing my space with someone else, let alone with someone like you.”

“Like me?” Grace asked indignantly, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Yes, like you,” Nathaniel replied quickly, stepping closer to her desk. “You are bubbly and kind. You speak with spirit, and you—you touch often. As if you are able to communicate through such means. Not such a person has lived within these walls since my moth—well. No one like that has lived here in quite some time. We are all quite somber in our ways. Content, but somber. But you? You are not like us.”

Grace’s eyes lowered to her writing desk as her shoulders slumped.

“Yes, I am well aware of how alone I am in this place,” she said quietly, her fingertips tracing over the letter beneath them. “You do not have to remind me of my rarity, husband. I am well aware.”

The heartache and loneliness in Grace’s tone pierced through Nathaniel’s unfeeling armor. Despite knowing the consequences, he wanted to gather her in his arms and comfort her. Instead, he flexed his gloved hands and held them together behind his back.

“Mrs. Snievely has informed me that you have received a letter from your parents,” Nathaniel continued, clearing his throat. “I am sure you miss them terribly.”

“That is an understatement,” Grace sighed, looking back up at him. A hint of a smile touched her lips as she picked up the letter on her desk he’d just put down and stood up.

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