He nodded.
“I was informed there is a library,” Prim said, eager to fill the silence.
He looked up straight at her. His expression was surprised, and for a moment there was that familiar glint in his eye, the one he wore when he was ready to say something witty. Prim perked up, ready for their banter. But as quickly as that sentiment rose, it was snuffed out like a useless candle. Leo coughed lightly and fixated on his plate once more. Prim was dispirited.
“I was wondering if I could have access to the library.”
Leo stopped eating and put his cutlery down. Prim was afraid her request had been offensive somehow. She was in a new home, under new circumstances, and she didn’t know the rules. Perhaps she had broken some untold rule in this ancient house.
“You are the lady of this house. You have the liberty to go and do as you please, except in my chambers and my study. Is that clear?”
“It will take some time for me to adjust to this new reality. For now, this is your home, and I would hate to intrude.”
“You had no trouble intruding the first time we met,” Leo said, a smirk touching his lips.
Prim looked up, and she saw he already seemed to regret that little slip of the tongue. His expression went cold, and he dropped his napkin on the table as he stood.
“Like I said,” he said from across the room, “this is now your home, and you may do as you like. Have a good night.”
And just like that, he left without even looking at her. On their first dinner as husband and wife. Prim swallowed her food, her dignity, her tears, and finished dinner as decently as she could. When she was done, she went straight to her room and closed the door behind her.
In her gilded cage with its priceless carpets and velvet upholstery, the lady of the house, the Duchess of Mildenhall, cried on her wedding night.
Prim was composed the next day during breakfast. She had worn a simple dress and headed for the breakfast room as she had been instructed by the housekeeper. Her maid had asked her last night for an exhausting list of preferences so they could be prepared for her each day.
So when she entered the breakfast room, she could smell her favorite Earl Grey tea and freshly baked Brighton biscuits. Leo was already there, dressed informally, reading a newspaper. His shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and he wore no waistcoat or cravat. He was, for all intents and purposes, at ease in his skin and his home, a sight so casually intimate it momentarily stole Prim’s breath.
For the past three weeks, through the agony and doubts, the anguish and the downright misery, Prim had forgotten onething: Leo was attractive. So now she was asked to spend her days leisurely gazing upon this man with his relaxed strength and careless grace, while he avoided her. Perfect.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she said, taking a seat across from him.
“Good morning,” he said without looking up from the paper.
A maid rushed to serve her, and Prim was a bit startled. She was not accustomed to people serving her, but she was now a Duchess, and it was to be expected. She studied Leo, who was utterly immersed in whatever article he was reading. Though Prim suspected the newspaper was merely a wall between her and Leo, and though it was made of flimsy material, it might as well have been made of stone.
“You will be in charge of the estate affairs,” he said suddenly. “Menus, pantry, changes, and renovations are all your responsibility. You will have a stipend to use as you see fit to run the house as smoothly as you can. You will also have pocket money for your personal expenses. If you want something that exceeds that amount, simply acquire it and have them send the receipt. Any questions?”
“None, Your Grace. This is all clear and generous of you.”
Leo finally looked up from his newspaper, studying her. He must have heard the false politeness in her voice. She, too, had never been polite to him.
“This time of the season, I am mostly at Westminster during the day. I will return home for dinner.”
“I understand, Your Grace.”
Leo got up and drained his cup of coffee. He threw one glance at her as she was bathed in the morning light, then bowed slightly and left. Suddenly the drawing room was empty, the tea was tasteless, the biscuits bitter.
That was her life from that day on for the next week: a quiet breakfast where they exchanged perhaps a few updates, sometimes nothing, and then she was left to her own devices the whole day. It took her some time to explore the gardens, and sometimes she could see him riding in the distance, never approaching her during those walks.
She found solace in the library. It seemed Leo didn’t appreciate this part of his house very much. For her, it was the real treat, the one thing that softened the harsh blow. It was an exquisite room, with floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves that lined the walls on multiple levels. It had a narrow upper gallery accessible via a spiral metal staircase. One side of the library had tall windows that allowed natural light to pour in. It became her favorite haven, and she instructed that the fireplace always be lit.
She occupied most of her time cataloging the collection and trying to put it in some order, since it seemed that, out of neglect, the books had been placed randomly. The moment Leo left everymorning, she came in here with freshly served tea and sat down on the carpet with stacks of books around her. Sometimes it felt as if she was truly burying herself in this endeavor.
Other than that, she had her duties: managing the menus, checking inventories, discussing small innovations with the staff. The housekeeper, the initially cold Mrs. Byrne, quickly warmed to her. If rumours of the seductive vixen who had managed to snare the Duke, the man Mrs. Byrne was so loyal to, had reached her ears, Prim had managed to disperse them.
She was friendly and efficient, clear in her instructions, managing expectations. The staff knew exactly what she expected of them in the little time she was there, and that made them feel at ease.
At the end of the day, when Prim retired to her private chambers after a dinner with Leo that was mostly an exercise in awkward silence, she would allow her true feelings to emerge. It was a dangerous mixture of guilt, loneliness, and anger.
