Diana had prepared herself for many things when she agreed to this marriage. She had prepared for distance, for formality, for a husband not inclined toward romance. The Duke of Rosewoodwas known to be reserved, to keep to himself, known to avoid society except when absolutely necessary.
She had not expectedabandonment.
“You will live comfortably,” the Duke continued, his voice as smooth and cool as the marble pillars surrounding them. “A generous allowance, the freedom to entertain, to travel, to do exactly as you wish. You will not be troubled by me in the slightest, Duchess.”
The humiliation was a needle, thin and white-hot, stitching itself directly beneath her ribs.
“Why?” The word was small, a jagged piece of glass in her throat. “Why are you doing this?”
The Duke didn’t flinch. He didn’t even have the decency to look regretful. “I never intended for us to have a domestic life,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather at Tattersalls. “I made that point quite clear to your uncle during our negotiations.”
His words made her stomach turn.
“You stood before the altar,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to the gold band that felt like a leaden weight on her finger. “You looked me in the eye and made vows. You placed this ring upon my hand.”
“And in doing so, I fulfilled the necessary condition of the contract.”
Diana’s breath hitched, caught in the sudden tightness of her lungs. She looked up, her eyes frantically searching his face for a crack, a twitch of a muscle, a softening of the mouth, any sign that this was a cruel, grotesque jest.
But the Duke’s features were composed into a mask of chilling impassivity. His piercing green eyes were now flat, reflecting the sunlight but holding none of it.
“And what, precisely, am I to say when society inquires after my absent husband?” Diana asked. Her voice felt thin, almost trembling. “When the whispers begin behind the fans?”
“Tell them I travel frequently,” he said, his voice smooth and untroubled. “Tell them my interests lie in business instead of society. It is a common enough tale in London; they will tire of the gossip within a fortnight.”
“Where will you go, Your Grace?” She took a step toward him, her skirts hissing against the floor. “If I am to be your wife in name, I should at least know which direction to point my gaze when I wonder where you are.”
He turned then, and for a fleeting second, she looked for a spark of guilt in the depths of his eyes, but found only a chilling boredom.
“Rosewood Hall. My country residence. If you need to contact me, you can send a letter there,” he explained.
The words were a shutter closing.
It should not have hurt like this. She hadn’t entered this union with a heart full of poetry or dreams. She was a practical woman, and she had married for the cold, hard weight of a title and the safety of a jointure.
It wasn’t the distance that was breaking her; it was the realization that to him, she wasn’t even to be considered. She was a line item in a ledger that had been met, filed away, already forgotten.
“So that’s it, then. You mean to leave me here alone,” she said slowly.
“You will not be alone,” Alexander said, his voice thin and clinical. “There are servants. A full staff at your disposal.”
The sheer dismissiveness of it made Diana’s vision snap into sharp, burning focus. Before her pride could catch her, she crossed the distance between them.
She reached out and seized his hand.
Through the thin lace of her glove, she felt the heat of his skin. He wasn’t a ghost or a contract; he was a man. He washerhusband.
“Is that truly all?” she demanded, her voice vibrating with a sudden, raw edge. “You marry me, you deliver me to this house like a piece of freight, and you depart without so much as an explanation?”
The Duke stilled. Then, he lowered his eyes to her hand.
His free hand shot out, his fingers closing around her wrist. The pressure of his thumb against her pulse point sent a jolt through her entire frame, a sickeningly sweet heat that made her knees feel hollow.
“You will do as you please, Diana,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as he pulled his hand free from her grip. “Throw your gatherings. Spend my money. Take a lover, if you require it. I shall not interfere.”
The wordlovermade her wince.
“You insult me,” she whispered, her face ashen.
