It was becoming clear to him that the woman he had married was not as meek and easily subdued as he believed. He had a long road ahead of him.
Harriet stole once last glance at the nursery, before retiring to her own bedchambers. Her mind was a mess, especially after the little argument with Simon. She realized that this seemed to be the norm for them.
In all her conversations with him, they had ended up bickering in some way or another. Of course, it was not as though they had many conversations to begin with. Still, the realization was startling.
So much for marital bliss,she thought to herself as she sat on the edge of her bed.
Despite her anger, she couldn’t ignore the fact that he had agreed to find a nursemaid. It was a small victory — she had half expected him to refuse her request entirely.
What do I do now?she thought, lifting her head and staring at the ornate mirror across the room. Her reflection looked back at her, tired and troubled. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to organize her thoughts.
Simon had been gone for longer than he had been present. That alone was reason enough for her reaction. She barely knew anything about him, let alone what irked him. But she knew she had to find a way to coexist with Simon, not just for her sake, but for Catherine’s as well.
I need to understand him,she realized.We are both trapped in this situation, and fighting each other won’t help.Harriet sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the task ahead.
Lying back on her bed, Harriet pulled back the covers and slipped beneath them, the cool sheets a small comfort. She closed her eyes, willing her mind to quieten down. Tomorrow, she would start afresh.
In the uncertainty of it all, she could only hope for a miracle.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning, Simon sat at the long, polished dining table for breakfast. An elaborate spread had been prepared by the staff, filled with all manners of jams, breads and sausages. It was an entire family’s worth of food, yet he had been served it on his own. He glanced at the empty seat across from him, his expression hardening.
“Jameson,” he called out in a gruff voice, who appeared immediately. “Where is the duchess? She is expected to join me at the breakfast table.”
It was highly unacceptable for a wife not to show up to breakfast, and the husband to eat on his own. If anything, they had to maintain the standards of propriety. He felt it a disrespect that she had failed to show.
“Your Grace,” he began with a slight bow, “the duchess is attending to the baby and will not be joining you for breakfast.”
Simon’s jaw tightened as he placed his napkin beside his untouched plate. “Very well,” he replied curtly.
He had half a mind to summon her here, but then paced himself, knowing it would only lead to an argument, as she scarcely understood the faults in her own actions. He did not want it to disrupt his own peace, and therefore, begrudgingly, agreed to have breakfast alone.
But his patience was running thin as the rest of the day followed a similar pattern. Lunch and dinner came and went, and Harriet’s place remained conspicuously vacant.
His irritation did not go unnoticed, as Jameson glanced over at him with his apologetic expression, his hands folded together in front of him.
“Let me take a wager,” Simon began, “the duchess is busy with the baby once again?”
“Yes, Your Grace. She has not left the nursery all day. It appears that the baby had a restless night of sleep, and has been irritable all day.”
Simon locked his jaw. “That would make two of us,” he muttered under his breath.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace? I am not sure if I caught that,” Jameson said.
“Never mind,” Simon rose from his place at the table, discarding his napkin to the side and smoothing out the creases in the front of his shirt.
He was going to have to sort things out for himself. He marched up the sweeping staircase and down the hallway to the nursery, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. He knocked once before pushing the door open, finding Harriet sitting in a rocking chair with Catherine in her arms.
“Harriet,” Simon said, his tone brooking no argument, “we need to talk.”
Harriet looked up, seeming exhausted. “Eliza, please leave us,” she said to her maid, who quickly exited the room, casting a concerned glance back as she closed the door.
Once they were alone, Simon closed the door behind him and turned to Harriet. “It is exceedingly rude of you not to join me for meals. Your absence is unacceptable.”
Harriet’s eyes flashed with anger as she rose from the chair, still holding Catherine. “Rude? I am taking care of a baby, Your Grace. A baby that is not even mine.”
“And it is not mine either. But that does not excuse you from your duties as my wife,” he argued.
