“No,” she said, still glaring. “Nothing is the matter. Why would you say that?”
Ronan frowned, taking note of the glare, before shrugging and going back to look out the window. He either did not equate the meaning of the hostility, or he did not care. In his mind, it was easier to ignore reality than face it head-on.
But there would be no more ignoring it. And as the carriage ride stretched on, as the silence inside the carriage grew, Thalia came to a decision. It was time that she confronted her husband and forced him to either admit his feelings or deny them entirely.
This is either the smartest thing I have ever done, or the most stupid. There is no in-between…
And while Thalia worried that this was in fact the stupidest of actions, one look at Olivia curled up beside her was enough to push that worry down. This was for Olivia as much as it was herself. The little girl clearly loved the duke, and it would not do to let that love bloom if he was only going to hurt them.
Once they arrived back at the estate, Thalia scooped Olivia into her arms and carried her to bed. The little girl was only half-awake as she was being tucked in, but she wore a smile that spoke of how at peace she was in her new home.
“Today was fun,” Olivia said, yawning through her words. “Did you have fun?”
“I did,” Thalia lied. “So much fun.”
“I don’t think His Grace did,” Olivia continued as she shut her eyes and curled herself into a ball. “He looks upset. And so grumpy.”
“That is just his way.”
“Maybe you should… you should… tell him not to be so grumpy…” She yawned again, and her eyes closed as she drifted off to sleep.
Thalia smiled at her daughter, stroking her head and wishing that it was as easy as Olivia thought. But things were never that easy.
Olivia was right about one thing. Ronan had been grumpy all day. He hardly spoke a word to Thalia. He barely even looked at her. He lived within his shell, happy to be seen, but not so happy to do anything that might suggest he was enjoying himself. And when Olivia asked him if he wanted to play with her and he’d said no… that was Thalia’s breaking point.
To ignore her was one thing. To treat her daughter like that was another—especially after treating her so kindly indoors. Thalia was sick to death of it all. Done!
And so it was that once Olivia was put to bed she stormed through the castle in search of her husband. And she found him moments later, in his room, sitting on his bed as he removed his boots. She did not knock, choosing to storm into the room like a hurricane bent on destruction.
“What is the matter with you!?”
Ronan looked up, one boot in hand, caught completely by surprise at the sudden outburst. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me!” She came to within only a few feet of him, forcing herself to stop. Hands on hips, brow furrowed, her glare ruthless and without compromise. “Whatisthe matter with you?”
Ronan considered her and, as always, kept his cool. “I do not know what this is. What has gotten into you. But storming into my room as you have done is not something I can accept.”
“It is always so… so formal with you!” she cried. “So precise. The way you speak to me, you would think I was a maid. That we met just an hour ago—strangers! Is that how you see me? As a stranger?”
“How I see you?” Ronan placed the boot down and stood. As he did, Thalia fought the urge to take a quick step back. He was so much bigger than her, and even in his state of calm, there was a quiet anger that wafted from him like cologne. “I do not know what answer you expect here, Thalia. You know what this marriage is. And, as I see it, I have treated you exactly as I promised.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“What else is there to say?”
There was no sign of the man who had found her playing the pianoforte just a few nights ago. The way he had looked at her, the tenderness in his voice, the softness she had seen in his eyes. The atmosphere which had grown between them, one that was brittle and on the verge of crumbling because she had known then what he truly thought of her.
And there was no sign of the man she had seen only yesterday. When he had Olivia in his lap, reading her a story, protecting her from the storm like any father should do.
Rather, he looked at her sternly. His expression dispassionate and his stare distant. He must have known what she meant, just as he was doing everything that he could to dissuade her.
But Thalia would not be dissuaded. Not anymore.
“You can lie to me,” she continued. “And to yourself. If that is how it must be, I will not push or try and change your mind. I will not engage or waste my time trying to force to the surface that side of you which I know…” She took a deep breath, her chin quivering, forcing those emotions back because she could not waste them on him. “You wish to treat me as little more than a stranger, fine. If that makes you happy…” She scoffed. “If such a thing is possible, so be it.” She raised an eyebrow at him, expecting a response.
His expression was vacant. Neutral. Looking at her, while also past her at the same time. He might as well have been a statue for how much engagement he was giving her.
“What I will not accept,” she continued. “Is the way that you treat Olivia. That, Your Grace, is where I draw the line.”
