“And where is it that you are going?” she demanded.
Simon paused, looking back at her. “Since you left me to dine alone, I thought it only fair you should do the same.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the duchess to fume in silence.
Harriet was no stranger to taking her meals alone. It was what she had done for the majority of her stay at the estate.
But somehow, this particular meal was tinged with a certain lonesomeness that she could not quite place. The duke had made her come down to the dinner table, but him leaving abruptly made her feel a certain despondence.
Then again, could she expect anything different? He was right that she had not performed on her wifely duties by leaving him unaccompanied for his own meals. This was him just returning the favor.
Despite not having eaten all morning, she could scarcely get down another bite of her food. Her mind kept thinking back to Catherine — she had been left in the care of Eliza, whom she trusted, but what did she know about soothing Catherine?
“Duchess, please take another bite,” Jameson’s voice startled her.
She looked up at him, a fork firmly clasped in her hand. “Has His Grace sent you here to supervise me?”
He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “His Grace has merely given me orders to ensure that you eat your meal properly. However, you have barely taken a bite in the last ten minutes.”
“I see,” she said.
While some women might see his insistence as care, she could not help but see it as an imposition. She disliked being commanded to do anything, which was precisely what this felt like.
Harriet made a decision and dropped the fork on the table.
“Tell His Grace that I have finished eating,” she said, rising from her place, “In a manner that I see fitting.”
“But Your Grace—” Jameson argued, but she was already on her way upstairs to her chambers.
It was a small act of defiance, but she wanted to send the message loud and clear that she was not someone who could be ordered around like a servant.
Sure enough, Jameson must have relayed the news to the duke because it was not long until there was a knock on her door, and Simon came barging in.
“Do you extract some form of joy by being this way?” he asked her, his hands placed firmly on his hips.
“Whatever are you referring to?” she replied, playing coy.
“By not listening,” his frustration leaked into his voice, “Perhaps I should have expected this. You are the youngest born of three sisters, are you not?”
“I am glad at you remember,” she smiled, “At least you know something about me.”
“Well, I should tell you that I am the eldest born. It does not sit well with me being defied like this.”
Before she could respond, he gestured for one of the maids to bring in a tray full of food.
“Come, sit,” he said, pointing at the place on the sofa next to him.
Reluctantly, she agreed.
What happened next was something that she could have never imagined. He took a spoonful of the food, and brought it over to her mouth. “Eat.”
“Your Grace...” heat rose to her cheeks.
“What? I understand that you dislike being commanded, but this is no command. It is your husband, feeding you with his own hands. Now tell me, what sort of wife would you be if you denied it?” His words were calculated.
Harriet knew exactly what he was doing. He could not stand that she disobeyed him, and so, to make sure that his command was met, he was playing a tactic that she could not refuse.
Her duty as a wife forbade it.
Begrudgingly, she opened her mouth and took in the spoonful of food.
