Each morning, Meredith made it her mission to explore a different part of Penrose Castle. Therefore, she had been asking Lucinda, who was more than happy to oblige, in guiding her to the dining room through different routes.
As they both walked deeper into the hallway, Meredith soaked in the rich, subtle blend of bergamot and sandalwood—Ethan’s hallmark fragrance. The walls were paneled in oak wood and the floor was lined with white marble, concealed carefully by thick maroon Axminster carpets. There were well over ten rooms in this corridor alone, and the further they walked through the castle, the more of them she saw, each door marked with something distinct that indicated its use. Every day, around this time to be certain, there were dozens of workers bustling about the area, sweeping and dusting every corner.
"Has Ethan–His Grace left?" Meredith asked, her eyes fixed forward and her expression stoic.
Lucinda turned to face her. "Yes, I believe he has."
“I see,” she replied. “…Did he ask about me?”
Lucinda didn’t seem to react much, her face remaining neutral. “I do not believe so. He has been spending quite a bit of time outside the castle, as usual.”
Meredith gave a subdued nod. Lucinda’s words stung, but it was a reality she had to get used to. She didn’t dare ask where exactly he was going – she wasn’t sure if she would like the answer, to begin with. They were only bound by name after all and they would separate in a fortnight, so it should not be any of her business what he did in his personal time. But yet, it still bothered her.
They passed a new room this time with an open door and Meredith couldn't stop herself from glancing inside due to the peculiar scent of leather tobacco that wafted in her direction.
Lucinda noticed Meredith’s interest and spoke up, "Oh, this is the billiards room," she said with a smile that hinted at a trace of melancholy. "I have not been here for long," she continued, "but I have seen him sneak off to this room at nights a trifle disguised, and leave in a far worse state. I suppose it must hold a lot of memories for him."
Truly, a hint of rum and gin laced the air and several rows of stout tables were set in place, bolted to the ground. The lighting was dim, the curtains from the window drawn shut, and two cue sticks of maple wood were splayed across one of the tables. The maid’s words piqued something in her, but she set it aside for now.
Meredith and Lucinda continued their stroll down the hallway, their footsteps pitter-pattering. As they turned a corner, Meredith's shoulder bumped into something of a stone sculpture. She gasped and stumbled back, only then looking up to find it was the Duke standing in front of her. As always, he looked exceedingly dashing in his black tailcoat with his dark hair in an organized chaos. Her cheeks flushed red as she hastily curtsied and stammered out an apology.
The Duke's hazel eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat too long, before he adjusted his now out-of-place cream cravat and then spoke. "I hope you are well," he said, his voice polite but distant.
Meredith tried to avoid his gaze, feeling a twinge of embarrassment as the memory of their wedding night entrenched itself in the forefront of her mind. She wondered if it affected him as much as it did her.
After another moment that passed by too slowly, the Duke cleared his throat. "I wanted to inform you that I—wewill be attending a ball tomorrow evening. This shall be our first and only ball we will attend as a married couple, so I hope you keep that in mind."
Meredith's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the ball. Although she was sure Ethan would have them attend an event at some point to parade their union to the ton, it was nerve-racking to think about. "Oh, I see," she said, trying to sound composed. "That explains the modiste visits as of late."
The Duke nodded, his expression neutral.
He seemed so distant and emotionless, she felt like a fool for remembering what had transpired between them. He almost certainly was not as affected.
Not baring to face him any longer, she finally added, “I will be off to take my morning repast.”
“Very well,” he continued.
Meredith nodded and with her maid on her toes, hurried ahead. It took a great deal of effort, but she managed to keep her eyes forward and not look back.
* * *
The sun began to set behind a sheath of gray curtains as the sky molded into a beautiful blend of orange and pink. Donning his midnight blue greatcoat, Ethan sighed heavily as he made his final preparations to leave. He had spent the entire week focusing on his one goal: Hartley’s Gambling Den. It had been a year since he first set his sights on acquiring the establishment, and despite his overwhelming exertions, it still seemed a touch out of reach. But he was getting closer, he could feel it.
It wasn't just the acquisition of the den that consumed him. It was everything that came with it. His fondest memories were tied to the place. However, over the past few years, it had spiraled into a chaotic mess. The current management had no sense of loyalty and the once esteemed establishment was losing its power and grace to be soon sold to some coxcomb who would no doubt transform it into another private club.
It was a painful sight for Ethan to witness, like watching a piece of his childhood slip away from his grasp. He hoped, with his assistance and newly acquired fortune, he could bring the gambling den back to its former glory. For him, it wasn't just about acquiring the den, but about preserving the memories that came with it.
Although he had married Meredith with the intention of saving her, the gambling den was a close second.
Ethan also couldn’t help but notice Meredith’s barefaced avoidance of him ever since their wedding night. It both frustrated and roused him a great deal, and each time he thought about it, he was having to seal shut his doors and drown himself in the amber liquid to contain himself of his mounting desires. He most certainly could not deny that the memory of her seductively undressing in front of him still sent shivers down his spine and brought a tightness to his breeches, a longing for far more. It was pure, carnal physical attraction, he knew as much. It was his nature, after all.
Despite the many women who were vying for his attention, he knew he was a married man now, so extinguishing the flame of desire as he once would was no longer an option. He found himself constantly distracted, his thoughts consumed by the image of her full lips on his, her perfectly round breasts and her soft body pressed against his hardness with such ferocity, never present in any of the women he had bedded before. Confound her for tempting him.
And if matters couldn’t be worse, there remained a perverse tension between them. One he felt the responsibility to fix himself. Picking up his top hat hanging loosely on the hat stand, he made to leave, before noticing his butler strolling down the hallway, a small bundle in hand.
“A moment, Stanley,” Ethan said, removing his tophat and placing it back on the hat stand for a moment.
His butler turned to face him, nodded, then walked over to him. His graying hair was slicked back and he bowed neatly.
