Then they were alone.
Gregory closed the door and turned to face her.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
"You must be tired," he said finally. "It has been a long day."
"Yes," Anthea agreed, though she felt too wound-up for sleep. Too anxious about everything that had happened, everything that now lay ahead.
"The servants have prepared the Duchess's chambers for you," Gregory continued, his tone still that same polite distance that had characterized the entire day. "Adjacent to mine, with a connecting door. But—" He paused. "I will not disturb you tonight. You should rest."
Something in Anthea's chest twisted painfully.
He did not want her.
The realization should have been a relief. This was what she had asked for, after all—a marriage of convenience. Separate lives. No expectations of intimacy or affection.
But after the flirtation of the past weeks, after the way he had looked at her, touched her, promised her that she would not be able to resist him?—
His sudden indifference felt like rejection.
"Of course," she said, keeping her voice steady. "That is... sensible."
"Tomorrow we can discuss the arrangements for your sisters," Gregory said. "I will have my solicitor draw up the necessary documents for their dowries. And we should begin planning social events—the house party we discussed, perhaps. Opportunities for them to meet suitable gentlemen."
He was all business. Practical. Focused on their arrangement.
As though nothing had changed. As though they were still merely two people with a mutually beneficial agreement.
As though the past weeks of growing closeness, of flirtation and teasing and those moments when she had almost believed?—
Had she imagined all of it?
"That sounds reasonable," Anthea said.
Another silence.
"Well then," Gregory said. "Good night, Your Grace."
The title—the formal distance of it—hurt more than it should.
"Good night," Anthea whispered.
She climbed the stairs to her new chambers, her silk gown suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.
The Duchess's rooms were beautiful. Elegant furniture, soft carpets, a massive bed with curtains she could draw for privacy. Everything she could possibly need.
Everything except the one thing she had not realized she wanted until it was denied.
Her husband's affection.
She sat on the edge of the bed, still in her wedding dress, and stared at the connecting door that led to Gregory's chambers.
He was on the other side of that door. So close. But he might as well have been a thousand miles away.
She thought about Beatrice's words.But don't come crying to me when you inevitably fail.
She thought about Gregory's coldness. The way he had looked through her rather than at her. The way he had pulled awaythe moment they were married, as though he had completed a mission and could now move on to more important matters.
