“How dare?—”
“I have told you what this is,” he snarled. “Not as soon as I probably should have, but it is done. And if you know anything about me, know this. I do not respond to threats, I do not respond to hostility, and I certainly do not respond to petty tantrums. Is that clear?” He barked those final words, rearing over her, his sheer size a tempestuous force trying to batter her into submission.
She held his glare the best she could, refusing to back down. “Crystal clear,” she said back, her jaw clenched.
“Good.” He widened his eyes in warning a final time. “Now, if there is nothing else to discuss, I shall be retiring for the evening. Alone.”
“As you are well used to, I am sure.”
He bristled at that, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then snapped them open. He was still angry, she could see that. But he did what he could to contain it, obviously not wanting to fight, and so very clearly wishing to be as far from his wife as was humanly possible.
“Good night,” he said stiffly, stepping around her before she had a chance to say anything else. “I will see you on the morrow.”
Florentia spun about to watch him go—to watch him run, was how she read it. He stormed up the steps, disappearing around the corner, his heavy footsteps fading the further he went until their sound vanished and she was left standing alone, her heavy breathing the only sound which remained, the only evidence left behind of their fight.
Alone...as her breathing calmed, and as silence took over, the sense of being alone consumed her like an ice-cold wind. She felt it deep inside of her. Knees buckling, she grabbed onto the banister, very nearly collapsing where she stood. No one came for her. No one cared. It was a state of being she was going to have to get used to.
Sadness, is all I have left. Although that seems obvious, doesn’t it? Crushing sadness, hopelessness, helplessness, and misery. Choose one, Florentia, for they all apply. This is your life now, so you’d better get used to it.
CHAPTER TEN
“Ican speak with Elias, if you like?” Albina suggested. “Perhaps he can say something to His Grace?—”
“Don’t you dare,” Florentia said. “Can you imagine! The duke’s baby brother cornering him and asking why he has not taken his own wife to bed. He would die of mortification!”
“It is just a thought.”
“And I do not need His Grace thinking that I care so much as to go running to his brother for help. I do not want him thinking that I care at all.” She crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air to finalize the point.
“But you do care.”
“And?” Florentia said. “That is beside the point, Albina. We have discussed it. He has told me where he stands. And until he realizes what a fool he is being—how pigheaded and selfishand stubborn and moronic and—” She caught her tongue, taking a deep breath because the last thing she needed was to work herself into a fury. “He knows my feelings on the matter, and I know well enough that His Grace is not the type to have his mind changed unless he is the one who changes it.”
“What then? You are going to do nothing?”
“I do not see what else I can do.”
“Florentia...” Albina sighed, reached out, and rested a hand on her best friend’s lap. “This is not the way. You need to talk to him. You need to make him see how you feel.”
“I did that!”
“Do it again,” Albina said. “And again. Perhaps you simply caught him by surprise? It has been a week now. Surely, that is enough time for you to broach the subject again. It is not as if you are being unreasonable.”
“I will not,” Florentia said stubbornly. “If you think I am going to go to my husband and beg him...” She curled her lip with distaste. “I would rather die.”
“Or spend your life alone.”
“Better that than begging.” Arms still crossed, she looked away. “I would not give him the pleasure.” Then she scoffed. “Believeme when I tell you, pleasure is the last thing he will be getting from me!”
It had been a week since Florentia and the duke were married, a week since she had broached the topic of starting a family, a week since they had fought for the first time... and a week since they had spoken or even been in the same room as one another.
Nothing had changed in that week, either. Although Florentia supposed that was not entirely correct. Still, the duke had not come to her and apologized or indicated that he was having second thoughts, and she knew that would never happen. The change to which she now recognized was a change in character. Her own.
She refused to allow herself to be upset. She did not pout. She did not mourn. She certainly did not weep for what was lost. She would not give him the satisfaction! Anger was her new state of being, an easy space to find herself in, if not a little tiring.
It was thus a relief that Albina had come to visit her on this day. A friend to complain to. A friend to listen as she unloaded all the thoughts and feelings that had been building this past week. And most importantly, a friend to spend time with. This week had been a long and boring one and Florentia was beginning to wonder what on earth she was going to do with herself now that she and her husband had chosen to pretend the other did not exist.
“What then?” Albina asked desperately. They were sitting on the edge of Florentia’s bed, Florentia with her legs folded under her,Albina with her own dangling off the side. “Tell me that. I spoke with the staff on my way to your room, you know...” She fixed a judgmental gaze on Florentia. “And they were not exactly shy in telling me how you have spent this past week.”
