“Is it true, then?” Selina spoke for the first time since Madeline’s arrival. “Everyone says that His Grace has no emotions at all. That he has kept to himself all those years because he cannot relate to other people.”
Madeline glanced at her lovely sister, at how those dainty fingers were deftly working over her embroidery while conversing with them.
“His own brother confessed as much to me. Malcolm says Kenneth does not know how to make use of his emotions, or that he has never displayed any.” Those were mere words. Madeline could not help but remember her husband’s hungry gaze. That was not a lack of emotion at all. It was a man who had built walls around himself. “However, I believe it is impossible. No man is born without a heart or without any feelings. He has just become skilled at hiding them. Perhaps I can help him uncover those hidden feelings. But I will have to catch him off guard.”
“How exactly do you plan to do that?” Cathy asked, frowning. She tilted her head while she looked at Madeline. “Even Tristan told me that the man looks like a statue. He looks like he will not even react if something explodes in the middle of his garden.”
Madeline chuckled at the thought. However, she quickly became serious, gaining a new resolve that she vowed she would hold on to.
“Oh, there must be a way. Everything has a solution. What if I try to make him experience and express all emotions? He will feel sadness. Then, anger. He will also feel fear, happiness, and even disgust if there is a need to draw deeper from within him. I am going to provoke every emotion I can, and when I have proven that he can show these emotions, it will prove that he is capable of love.”
“And what will that do for you and your marriage?” asked Grandmama.
“At first, maybe nothing. But it will at least give me hope that he is capable of it. If I keep trying, maybe one day he will come to love me.”
Her own words stoked a fire in her. Determination glowed hot, and she rose from her seat as she felt a sudden, aggressive sort of energy. She strode toward the door with newfound intent, her mind already racing to the possibilities.
“Madeline, are you leaving so soon?” Selina sounded disappointed.
“Yes, I must.”
“Are you heading straight to your husband’s study?” Cathy asked.
“Well, I must learn how to look for the cracks in his walls first.”
Chapter 13
“Iam truly convinced that I must begin with fear,” Madeline declared, walking back and forth in her drawing room. “I believe it is the most accessible emotion. Even the bravest soul has some kind of fear.”
Portia had come to call on her this morning, and she was now sitting with a heavy tome in her hands. To be fair, her sister was listening to her rather than being engrossed in yet another book of ancient philosophy. The younger woman did not look too impressed, though.
“I do wonder if there are any studies about such play on emotions, as you say, or if you have lost your mind completely. Dearest Maddy, are we not talking about the Duke of Huntington? He looks like a block of stone that has been fed with raw fish and vinegar from childhood. I am not even entirely certain that man breathes, as I have never been near him. Now, you are telling me that he has fears like the rest of us mortals?”
“Everyone is afraid of something, Portia,” Madeline insisted, as she leaned toward her sister.
Today, she was wearing a bright green dress, as if to remind herself what she was meant to do, and what she was expected to be. She had to believe in her own plans, or nobody else would.
“Think about it,” she continued. “A man like him, who has built walls that high, must have some fear. Some vulnerability. What is he trying to hide if he is concealing his true emotions so much? There must be some weakness. We simply need to find out what it is.”
“We?” Portia asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, no, Maddy. I will not be party to this campaign. I may serve as a spectator to your madness, but that is all I can offer halfheartedly.”
“Let us think about possibilities together, then,” Madeline pressed, returning to her pacing. “What could a man of his stature and wealth be afraid of? He is also often at home or managing the estates rather than in social gatherings. Perhaps there is some fear there. Even though... He seems confident when in public, so no.”
“Knowing His Grace, he probably fears anything that destroys his perfect little world. Perhaps a mistake in his ledgers would horrify him,” Portia suggested. “Oh, and perhaps a speck of dust on his otherwise shiny tables. I imagine he would be furious rather than scared. Then again, that is an emotion. Right? If not, he would just stare at his staff until they were the ones terrified of making a mistake. He is a stone statue, as Tristan says.”
Madeline stopped pacing. Her eyes drifted toward the tall, arched windows overlooking the perfectly manicured Huntington House gardens. The flowers were drenched with sunlight—the only detail that made it look cheerful.
“I refuse to live in a tomb, Portia,” Madeline said softly, revealing more of her emotions than she would like to. She turned to her sister, who looked at her with startled eyes. “I spent my whole life dreaming of true love. I do not need a knight on a horse to sweep me off my feet. A good man who loves me should be enough. But I do not want to be managed or tolerated. I want to know what it is like to be loved and cherished.”
Her younger sister’s expression softened. It was a rare thing for her, too. While Portia was not made of stone like Kenneth, she was more like a cynic. She would need facts to believe in something.
“Dear sister, this husband of yours would not sweep you off your feet on his horse. He is more likely to run you over, not because he hates you, but because he is too focused on something else within him.”
Madeline chuckled at the thought. What else could she do? It was an absolutely ridiculous notion, but she could imagine her husband doing it for some reason.
Ugh.
“I must try something, Portia. If I do not try finding the cracks in his armor now, I will start fading into the wallpaper or the carvings. I know it is merely a marriage of convenience, but please do not blame me for at least attempting to make it into something more.”
