Page 82 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

Despair got a hold of her. But Marigold sat up, determined not to allow this. After all, she had survived worse. Being insulted and assaulted. Being wronged and coerced. This was the same order, but this time she had the resources of a duchess. She was in a warm home and had food on her table and could take care of others, serving food on their table too.

And yet all of it was not enough consolation for the emptiness she felt inside. Exhausted, she fell asleep at some point.

* * *

When she woke up in the morning, her eyes were red, and her face was pale. Beth came into the room at the same time she did every day.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

“Good morning.”

Even that simple transaction took almost all of her energy to complete.

“You didn’t come down for dinner yesterday, Your Grace.” Beth seemed genuinely worried. “You said you were unwell, and I can see that too. Do you want me to call the physician, Your Grace?”

“No need,” Marigold said and went through the motions of getting dressed for the morning.

What could a physician do about her being scorned? Not that one would argue that she would be immune to the sentiment. There was hardly any time that she wasn’t scorned. But somehow, she had foolishly allowed herself to believe that Brandon was different.

She sat down at the vanity while Beth took care of her morning routine. Her maid was droning on about something, but Marigold could not concentrate on her words.

“Poor Allie,” Beth said.

“What happened?” Marigold welcomed the distraction.

“Well, the Duke asked her to stay vigilant in case you needed something in the middle of the night since you were feeling unwell. She too was quite worried.”

Marigold tightened her fists. Perhaps he was worried she would throw a tantrum or make a scene. Or perhaps he was truly worried about her.

New resolve bloomed inside her. She would not give up that easily. A chance to clear the air and salvage this, she would take it.

Once she was ready, she made her way down to the breakfast room. She was determined to ask for clarification and explanation. If she were to be condemned to a house haunted by the absence of a husband, childless and abandoned, she deserved some explanation. Or perhaps she could salvage this, save the situation.

But when she entered the breakfast room, it was empty, save for the servants going about. A place was set on the table, and she smelled her favorite tea, not mixed with coffee. Mrs. Hodgins came in with her correspondence and a smile on her face.

“His Grace?” Marigold asked.

“He left early for business. He let us know that he will not be back for lunch.”

She had never felt pain so sharp in her life. It was as if somebody had slapped her. It had been a while that they had most of their meals together, but perhaps that was just something to put her at ease, so they could be intimate. After all, he was a decent person.

“Thank you,” she told the housekeeper and sat down to have her breakfast.

“Your Grace, do you really have the time to look over accounts for the renovation of the ballroom?”

Marigold felt a sting in her heart. She somehow remembered him coming so close, telling her she had inexhaustible resources, getting the ballroom back to its former glory. And for what? So, they could keep up appearances.

“Yes, I will be in my office after I have had my breakfast.”

“The architect will visit in the next few days, so it would be better if we were prepared. Do you think His Grace would like to be there in the meeting?”

“I believe His Grace,” Marigold tried hard to bite down the trembling in her voice, “would approve anything I decide.”

Mrs. Hodgins smiled, thinking that this was proof of His Grace’s warm feelings towards her. Marigold did not have the heart to tell her that it was proof of his indifference.

She had her breakfast and received her correspondence, mechanically. After her officially becoming a duchess, invitations started pouring in for various social events, especially for her. And yet Marigold had never felt more alone in her life. She took her correspondence with her to her study and sat down in the chair of the Duchess.

“I am sorry I am late, Your Grace.” Mrs. Hodgins came in with more tea, balancing the new ledger.