“Well, it is your honeymoon, after all.” Now there was no mistaking it: Clara really was smirking.
Rosalie blushed, but she tried to maintain a calm, secret smile—one that would give off the feeling that she was a worldly married woman, not still a naive maiden.
“We will have to make do,” she said, deciding it was best to ignore Clara’s insinuations. “And this will motivate me not to dawdle in fixing up the rest of the house! I’ll have to speak to the Duke at dinner and ask him to speed up the process, especially if we are going to be entertaining or spending a significant amount of time here in the future.”
But no sooner had Rosalie changed into her gown for dinner when there was a knock on the door and a housemaid came in, bearing a tray lined with food, including a bowl that smelled like rich and nutty.
Rosalie’s eyes fluttered closed as she breathed in the delicious smell, and when she opened them again, the maid had set the tray on the vanity.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” the girl muttered, “but His Grace had to excuse himself from dinner. There is much work to be done, and he apologizes deeply for not being able to join you tonight. However, he thought that you might be tired after the long journey and prefer a tray sent up to you here instead of making all the effort to dine alone in the dining room. He also took the liberty of asking Cook to prepare your favorite soup.”
“So, it is almond soup!” Rosalie asked delightedly, removing the lid from the bowl and breathing in deeply. The smell was rich and strong, and immediately her mouth watered. “That is so thoughtful of him,” she murmured. “Thank you; I will eat here as he suggests.”
But how did he know almond soup is my favorite?she wondered as Clara helped her back out of her gown.I don’t remember ever discussing that with him. Maybe my cousin sent over a list of my favorite foods?
But that didn’t seem like the kind of thing cousin Niles would do. He was a forgetful, irresponsible man, not the kind whoremembered to pass along a list of his cousin’s favorite foods to her new husband.
Rosalie settled on the bed. There was also warm, freshly baked bread on the tray as well as butter, honey, and a variety of cheeses. After lathering the bread in butter, she dipped it in the soup and began to eat heartily. The soup smelled and tasted so good that she didn’t even think about what she was doing.
All instincts to deprive herself, to restrict, to show her discipline and perfection through food, disappeared. She simply ate, letting the animal instinct for nourishment take over. It was only after she had finished every last morsel of food that she realized she had just eaten an entire meal.
It had been a long time since she had eaten a full meal. She couldn’t remember the last time her belly had felt this full, and a feeling of pure contentment washed over her.
Is this always how it feels to be well fed?Her thoughts drifted again to the Duke, and she chuckled to herself.He really is determined to get me to eat more. For the first time, this didn’t annoy her. It actually seemed rather thoughtful and kind.
It was late now, and Rosalie was a bit cold and, she realized, lonely. Clara had gone, probably down to the kitchens for her own dinner, and Rosalie felt restless. She could have tried to light the fire and read by it, but for once, she didn’t want to sit and read. She wanted to talk to someone.
I wonder where Nathan is.
What was he up to?It wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go but here to their room. The rest of the house was damaged, and he would be sleeping here with her in this small, shabby room.
Rosalie decided to go and find him. It was their honeymoon after all, even if it was the least romantic honeymoon she ever could have imagined, and she felt entitled to his attention.
Standing, she put on her dressing gown, slipped on a thick pair of woolen socks, and then snuck out of the room. There hadn’t been a candle in her room, so she walked in the dark through the castle’s corridors, careful to stick to the parts that looked as if they weren’t damaged. She still remembered the way back to the entrance hall, so this was the way she went until at last, she found it.
As she entered the hall, she saw a maid crossing the hallway, and she called to her, “Pardon me, but do you know where I can find His Grace?”
The maid jumped then curtsied quickly. “The last I saw him, he was in his study,” the maid mumbled, too shy to even look Rosalie in the eye. “It’s just down the hallway on the left.”
“Thank you,” Rosalie said warmly.I will have to get to know all of the staff and make them trust me.She laughed slightly.The Duke is right: I am starting to think like a duchess.
She walked down the hall until she reached a door on the left-hand side. Raising her hand, she knocked.
There was no answer.
She tried again, but once more, there was no response. Shrugging, she pushed open the door and peered inside. It was dark, but as her eyes adjusted, she could make out that this was, indeed, a study.
However, there was no one there, and if not for a few signs that someone had been in there recently, she would think that no one had inhabited this room in a long time.
For one thing, it was rather stuffy. The air was thick and full of dust, as if it had not been aired out in a long time. The windows were darkened on the outside from mold, and on the inside they were lined with dust. In fact, everything in the study was covered in dust.
The only evidence that someone had been in here was a cigar that sat in a small porcelain tray on the desk, still glowing slightly at the end and emitting the acrid smell of smoke. There was also a half-empty bottle of wine that was the only thing not covered in dust, and an empty glass with residue of wine at the bottom.
Rosalie moved further into the room. Although it was claustrophobic and a little creepy, she was also fascinated. This room belonged to the Duke, and there might be some hint as to his innermost thoughts hidden somewhere in here. She didn’t want to pry, but if something just turned up…
Well, Rosalie had read enough novels to know that she’d be in trouble for looking, but she didn’t care.
He trapped me in this marriage, so he might as well let me inside his head a little bit.
