It had been another typical day. Only Abigail’s visit disrupted her mundane routine. And also, the fact that Mrs. Byrne, very sternly but sincerely, praised Prim because she brought order to the household without a hint of tyranny. Perhaps the staffwas merely happy that they didn’t have to accommodate crying ladies running out of the estate.
The dinner was quite lively. Leo asked about Abigail's visit, which reminded Prim that she could visit her friend too anytime she wanted and that she had a carriage at her disposal at all times. Prim had told Leo that Abigail had praised the changes to the new drawing room, to which Leo nodded. And that was it.
Now, she was in her room staring at the fire, and he was in his study, buried in ledgers. Tomorrow, the same day will begin, and Prim was sure that the dinner would be completely silent because they had exceeded the allocated interaction time for this week.
With a deep sigh, she made her way to her bedroom. She looked at her vast, empty bed and then at the locked door between her room and his, a stark reminder of what was left between them.
You are a Duchess.
Abigail’s words resonated in her mind. Prim paused. Her chest drew deep breaths, her nails dug in her palms. She was a Duchess. Maybe Leo married her to avoid the scandal and because he felt responsible, but now, she was the Duchess of Mildenhall. She was not a charity case, she was not a responsibility, she was not merely a manager of the estate.
All her pent-up anger and guilt and resentment came rushing to her, happy to be acknowledged finally. She was no longer content to be a quiet, polite ghost inherown home. If Leo wereangry at her or resented her for what happened, he would have to face her and tell her.
With that new resolve, she walked out of her room and made her way to the place she knew he spent all his nights, to that wretched study, his hiding spot, the room he had forbidden her to enter.
She reached the door and didn’t even hesitate. She hadn’t hesitated to invade his personal space that first night she stormed in, and she had no intention of hesitating now that she was the lady of the house.
She turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Leo was sitting on an armchair, staring at the fireplace, a glass of amber liquid halfway to his lips. His expression changed from weary thought into something utterly stunned.
“I do not recall granting you entry,” he said, his voice a low, warning rasp.
Prim stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft but final click.
“Perfect,” she hissed, “because I don’t recall asking for permission.”
“Go back to bed, Prim.”
“I don’t think so,” Prim defied. “You and I need to talk.”
Leo, with slow, deliberate moves, set his glass down at the mahogany table. The sound echoed in the air between them. Then he looked up at her. The light for the fireplace was the only one in the room and now caught the sharp angles of his face and made the blue of his eyes, dance deeper.
“We can talk about it over dinner tomorrow,” he said, looking away. “Whatever it is you want to do or change in the estate, you can-”
“I am not here to talk about remodeling!”
Prim was shaking with the intensity of her feelings, her spine a rod, her chest a machine of breaths, her eyes fierce. Leo must have seen the resolve because he stood up, taking the alcohol with him.
Prim watched as he stood by the fireplace, putting distance between them. He studied her over the rim of his glass. His look was icy cold as he raised his shields. Prim was determined to shatter them.
“What is it of such great importance that you have to disrupt my peace at this hour?”
“Is there an hour that His Grace’s peace would be gladly disrupted?”
“I do not appreciate the sarcasm.”
“You'd better start fast.”
Leo’s jaw tightened. He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers over the rim of the glass. He was trying to intimidate her, to dismiss her, to make her run away. She was not going to oblige.
“I want the truth. Now. Tonight,” she said through gritted teeth.
He looked away, his whole body tense. So that’s how it was then. He couldn’t even look at her anymore. Prim felt grief swell inside her, like a knot, a vise around her neck.
“Do you hate me, Leo?”
His eyes snapped in hers in all their force. She tried so hard not to break, but she was stretched so thin for so long that she simply couldn’t take it anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes, she could feel them at her lashes.
