Page 84 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

DESPERATE MEASURES

When Marigold woke up the next morning, light barely streamed through the curtains. To say that she slept would be the most blatant of lies. She tossed and turned and decided that the middle of the night was the best hour to have a conversation with her insecurity.

She called for Beth with a smile on her face, always eager to help her. Together, they chose a simple but elegant gown, something that emanated the title of a duchess. She was determined to have a real talk with Brandon, her husband, the Duke.

She came down the stairs quite composed, cataloging her questions, her worries, and her responses to his possible explanations. She went about this task as she did about everything else: calmly, methodically, and optimistically.

Yet all of her preparation crumbled the moment she entered the breakfast room. The all-too-familiar scent of her tea and the absence of another set on the table told her that sometimes actions spoke louder than words. The Duke was bluntly avoiding her.

“His Grace?” she asked the butler nonchalantly.

“His Grace left early in the morning, Your Grace,” the man responded in his cold, indifferent way. “He received an urgent missive and went out even before dawn.”

“I see,” Marigold straightened the napkin on her lap to calm her nerves. “Did he say when he would return?”

“He did not leave such a message, Your Grace.”

“Did he leave any messages at all?”

Mr. Hodgins was one of the most discreet men that Marigold had ever witnessed. After all, given both the status in the ton and his extracurricular activities, the man head of the household had to be someone like him. And yet right in this moment, this ghost of a man looked at her with something akin to sympathy.

“He didn’t leave any messages, Your Grace,” was his response.

Marigold nodded and forced a smile as she was being served her expensive tea in her exquisite china, attended by three servants, and smelling the cake, fragrant with rare vanilla. And yet somehow, she would exchange those things and go back to bargain with the butcher if it meant having an open, honest conversation with her husband.

After breakfast, she retreated to her study, sitting at the desk looking at unopened ledgers. She could no longer concentrate on taking care of a household that didn’t feel like it was hers anymore. The walls felt as if they were closing in, suffocating her and caging her.

It became quite clear to her that no matter how optimistic or determined she was, the bitter truth remained that she was dismissed. She was no longer accepted in this house. She was tolerated.

The thought made her throat close, and her eyes sting. She couldn’t stay there. She needed to get out, clear her head, and figure out what she was going to do in the future.

“Beth, help me get ready. I will visit…”

She paused. Where exactly would she go? It was no longer an option to stay there. She realized that in the short time she had been there, Verdant House had become a safe haven.

“Your Grace?” Beth came rushing in.

Marigold sprang into action. She was a practical person, and she would face this practically.

“Let me change and help me prepare a small bag.”

“You are leaving, Your Grace?”

Marigold tightened her jaw to stop the tears from falling.

“I will visit… my mother,” she said since this was the only option that came to mind.

“For how long, Your Grace?”

Marigold knew that if she were to be gone for good, she would miss her maid. And Miss Hodgins. And she had to give up on that little patch of land again. And she would miss Duck.

Most of all, she had to painfully admit that she would miss him. But perhaps it was too much to ask for this dream that she had been living in the little time she was the Duchess of Voss to be true. Good things didn’t happen to people like her.

“Not much, Beth,” Marigold lied to both her and her maid. “My cousin is back from the colonies, and I should very much like to get to know him better.”

The lie slipped so easily from her lips, but at least, it seemed to be effective. Beth sighed in relief, thinking that it was a plausible explanation.

She gathered a few things, nothing much, and left for the carriage. She was half expecting that he would have her things thrown away. But then again, Brandon never had a problem sharing his wealth and title with her. It just seemed he was reluctant to share his bed and his heart with her.