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"On the subject of investments... I have a question."
Silence.
“That requires an answer," she pressed on and finally looked up at him. His eyes had softened ever so slightly, and his jaw was no longer clenched. His brows, which were usually furrowed beneath his customary scowl, were now arched, silently inviting her to continue.
"Earlier today, John asked whether I would be getting a horse. Now, I know I am not to ride, but I didn't know how to answer him.” She paused awkwardly.
“I have no money of my own. How do I buy things? Or if there is something I need to do, do I ask you? Do I..." Her voice trailed away. She already felt rather foolish, so she was grateful that Arthur interrupted her.
"You may have mostly whatever you like. If you go to the market, staff will carry money for you. Should there be anything you wish ordered, order it. The bills will be sent to me. This is something you need not concern yourself with."
"So if I wanted to take dance lessons..." Eliza asked.
"An invoice for an orchestra and a tutor made its way to my desk this morning."
He paused.
"I approved it," he said.
"Oh."
"You are my Duchess of Buckingham. You will have every opportunity afforded to the position, and I want you to spend as you please."
Her mind was still reeling from the thrashing his words had delivered moments ago, and as such, she hardly heard the rest of what he said. Nor did she notice the tiny word that he had weaved into the sentence.
My.
After dispelling myths around how their finances would run, he turned and left without another word, and the door closed swiftly behind him.
Only once the door had thudded shut did her composure slip, and she allowed herself a single sob. She had not expected it to be this hard. She had been under the impression that her husband would want to make their marriage work as much as she did. If he did not, why had he gone to such lengths to find a wife?
She thought back to the sympathetic stares of servants and guests alike the previous day. A single tear escaped, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand.
"Very well," she whispered to the canopy.
One day down.
A lifetime to go.
Chapter 15
Arthur’s eyes were heavier than usual the next morning. He had endured an awful night's sleep, which he attributed to Radnor sailing towards uncertainty and the Lords being in disarray, both demanding his attention. The boundaries he had established with his wife were necessary. Sensible. He refused to entertain the possibility that they, too, had contributed to a night spent staring at the canopy above his bed.
As he entered the dining room for breakfast, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his mother and Laurence already deep in conversation over some matter of considerably less importance. He acknowledged them both with a nod before taking his usual seat.
His newspaper had already been laid beside his place setting, but as he reached for it, his eyes drifted briefly to the empty chairs on his left, then to the chair set three places away.
It had been returned to its customary position, three places away.
He unfolded the newspaper, though his attention did not stay with it.
He found himself wondering whether Eliza would join them for breakfast this morning. He suspected she would not; quality time with his mother, combined with their parting conversation, would likely cause her to retreat and lick her wounds for a while, which he would allow.
It was important to him that she no longer misunderstand his intentions, and all would be well. A stumble now would be far easier to recover from than the fall that would surely shatter it later, should she continue to indulge such fanciful dreams. He had survived heartbreak before, but he would sooner endure it a hundred times over than knowingly inflict it upon another.
He glanced back at the chair a second time, still refusing to dwell on it.
The country remained at war. Parliament required his attention. Radnor was riding towards a battlefield. His wife's seating arrangements ought not to occupy even a moment of his thoughts.
