Against her better judgment, Anne hoped that he was hurt by it, even though she knew he would not be. After all, why would he?
CHAPTER 13
Dorian noticed the change in Anne before he fully understood what had caused it.
At first, he had assumed it was simply because the ball had been intense and her first time hosting was bound to be exhausting. He told himself that she would return to normal within a day or two, that she would be back to her usual self, tearing him apart in a way that only she could.
She did not. Instead, the distance remained, and it grew more deliberate with each passing day.
At breakfast, she no longer met his eyes for longer than necessary. Conversation, when it occurred at all, was limited to polite exchanges about the household, the horses’ training, or the day’s obligations. When he attempted humor, she responded with calm acknowledgment rather than the quick corrections or faintly amused remarks he had become accustomed to.
It was as though he was suddenly married to another woman, and he found it irritating in a way he could not easily justify.
He told himself it should have been a relief. If she no longer wanted familiarity, then he was under no obligation to maintain it. Their marriage had been arranged for practicality, not companionship. He had repeated that to himself often enough that it should have settled into certainty, and yet it had not.
What unsettled him most was not the absence of affection, but the absence of reaction. Anne no longer corrected him when he spoke too freely. She no longer challenged him when he pushed too far. She gave him nothing at all, and whether that was what he had originally wanted in a wife or not, it did not make it easier to witness.
Three days before the upcoming race, he stood at the edge of the training grounds watching the stablehands move through their morning routine. Diamond moved well under guidance, his stride stronger than it had been weeks ago. The improvements were obvious enough that even the most skeptical of the trainers had begun to acknowledge Anne’s influence on the horse’s recovery.
Dorian should have been pleased with the progress. Instead, he found himself watching Anne more than the horse. He also could no longer ignore the fact that Diamond only responded to his other name, so he reluctantly accepted that Tempest would have to remain stormy and brooding in both nature and name.
The guardedness in Anne’s expression eased around Tempest in ways it no longer did around him. Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled around the horse in a way she no longer did around him.
Unexpectedly, Dorian found himself envying the horse.
Anne stood a short distance from the paddock when he arrived, speaking quietly with one of the stablehands as they discussed adjustments to the tack. Her attention was focused entirely on the task at hand. When she finished speaking, she gave a brief nod and turned away without looking at him, as though his presence was incidental rather than acknowledged.
“Your Grace.”
Dorian exhaled slowly and turned his head. Mr. Pembroke stood a few paces away, calm in the way that suggested he had been observing them for some time before choosing to speak.
“You have been standing here for quite a while,” Pembroke noted.
“I am overseeing preparations,” Dorian replied.
“Yes,” Pembroke said mildly. “You seem to be doing that very intensely.”
Dorian glanced back toward the field. “A race is approaching. It is to be expected that I remain here to ensure all is well.”
“Races take place frequently,” Pembroke pointed out.
Dorian did not respond.
Pembroke followed his gaze, pausing briefly before speaking again. “The Duchess has been quite occupied with the stables these past days.”
“That is not unusual,” Dorian said. “She loves that horse.”
“It is the manner in which she is occupied that seems to have changed.”
“I have not noticed anything particularly different.”
Pembroke inclined his head, as though accepting the statement without necessarily agreeing with it. “Of course,” he said.
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable for Dorian.
He looked back toward the paddock, where Anne was now moving along the fence line, checking Tempest’s tack while speaking briefly to another trainer. Her voice carried just far enough for him to catch her tone, stripped of anything personal in the strangest way. He found himself listening for something that was no longer there.
Eventually, Pembroke spoke again.
