“I believe that we are done with this conversation,” she announced and began to walk away from him.
It must have been the truth,for hedidn’t call after her. Didn’t stop her.
Most of all, he didn’tdenyit.
You have a mistress.
It was an accusation that no husband wanted to hear from his wife’s mouth. One that would require an explanation, an elaborate apology, or at the very least, adenial.
But Simon Linwood gave none of these. Instead, he had just watched the duchess walk away from him.
A part of him was surprised by this. He had never really known her to be the accusatory sort. She had not shown any indication before, and therefore her words had come as a surprise to him.
So much so that he was still only processing the meaning of her words when she had simply walked away from him.
It was a wild assumption to make, that was certain. And he didn’t know if it was something that she had thought on her own, or if someone else had fed her this nonsense.
But whatever it was, the thought remained with him for the rest of the night.
He poured himself a drink, thinking that it would make him distracted enough not to think about it.
He had never really been in a situation like this before. A part of him thought perhaps he should clear the air and go to her. But then he remembered just how furious he was when he saw her dance with another.
It would be a good revenge, he thought to himself. So he was not going to bother himself by correcting her.Let her think what she wants.If only for the moment.
That night, Simon had the worst sleep he had had in ages. First, he was too irked by the accusations that the duchess had levelled against him. Afterwards, he had been too annoyed to go to sleep properly.
He had spent most of the night tossing and turning in his bed.
When the dawn finally broke, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least the morning would bring with it some change of scenery.
Making his way down to the breakfast table, he expected to see Rachel waiting for him as she usually did. He had already rehearsed in his mind the conversation that he was going to have with her. But when he reached the table, he noticed that she was not there.
Strange.
The duchess was rarely late for breakfast. She was usually here before him most mornings, reminding him of the importance of being punctual.
Still, Simon took his seat. She would come, he was certain of it.
But then more and more time began to pass, and he began to wonder seriously if she was going to show at all.
“Where is the duchess?” Simon asked the butler, who stood nearby.
“Her Grace declined to join you for breakfast this morning, Your Grace,” he replied promptly.
“Declined?” Simon repeated, one of his eyebrows shooting up.
“Yes, Your Grace. She said that she would take her breakfast in her chambers this morning, and that I should inform you if you ask about her.”
“Right,” Simon found himself sulking.If you ask.So, she was anticipating that he would.
Rachel was many things—bold, at times utterly exasperating—but she was also predictable in certain ways. And breakfast, of all things, was something that never took place in her chambers.
Ah. So, this was her protest.
Simon exhaled quietly, reaching for his cup of tea.
“No matter. It will pass,” he muttered to himself. He did not take Rachel to be the type who spent long sulking. If anything, it would be a challenge to keep her in that self-exile of hers. Soon, she would move on.
