“My father was not supportive either,” Matthew admitted, though he couldn’t look at her when he said it. In fact, he wasn’t entirely certainwhyhe said it. “He felt that… you had to earn any praise you might receive. And just because you tried something didn’t mean you had earned anything.”
It was a lesson he’d learned the hard way many times.
“He felt that the only thing that mattered was winning. And if you didn’t win, you might as well not try.”
“That’s a very sad way to raise a child. Your mother didn’t help you?”
“She tried… a few times,” he replied. “But there was no one that could stop my father from getting what he wanted. My uncle, though, he was there for me whenever things with my father got… too intense. And there was always Isabelle and John.”
“You were very close to them?”
“I was,” he agreed. “My uncle was my father’s biggest supporter and helped him a great deal. And so John and Isabelle were herea lot. We practically grew up together. It’s why we’re still close today.”
“I am glad that you had such wonderful cousins to support you. And sorry for the way that your father treated you.”
Matthew looked up sharply at that, startled by the sadness and compassion in Diana’s eyes and voice.
And he realized just what he had revealed to her.
He quickly straightened up and glanced down the hall. “I have things I must attend to,” he told her, striding purposefully down the hall and very intentionally avoiding looking in her direction again.
Diana stormed into her bedroom, flinging herself into the nearest chair.
Margaret raised an eyebrow at her. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“I thought we were getting somewhere. That we were actually making progress. And then… he just walks away and ignores me,” Diana replied bitterly.
“I assume that we are speaking of His Grace.”
“Indeed,” she huffed.
“Come then, why don’t you tell me what happened, and we shall decide what to do next.”
“We were talking about the paintings on the walls, and things were going well. I told him a little about my childhood, and he opened up about his own. And then he simply walked away.”
“Did he give a reason for his abrupt departure?”
“He said he had things to attend to.”
“And perhaps he did. Running a duchy, especially from town, is not easy, I am sure.”
“You did not see the way he fled—No, he was running away.”
“Didn’t Lady Isabelle tell you that he was wary of feelings and emotion? Perhaps opening up to you was too much for him.”
“But we will never get anywhere if he does not learn to get used to that.”
“Perhaps not, but you have made strides today, and that is important.”
Diana huffed indignantly and sank further into her chair.
“Ah, well, if you are determined to be cross, at least be useful,” Margaret told her, handing over the ball of yarn she was working with for her current project.
Reluctantly, Diana began to assist her, though her mind continued to wander to just what Matthew was doing and whether he was replaying their conversation in his head as well.
For the next several days, she did not see him. Or if she did, it was a brief glimpse as he walked from one room to another or made his way from the kitchens to the study again.
And yet he did not look her way during any of those occasions, though he must have known that she was there. That she saw him.
