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All the vases, all the blossoms and greenery had disappeared from the house. The rooms lacked Charlotte’s presence, and the weight of emptiness was stronger than he’d ever imagined. She had made a place for herself at Severn, and now that she had removed her influence, the house didn’t feel the same.
He’d only been gone a month, but it felt like far longer. Although he had heard nothing from Mr Virdon since that night at the ball, he wasn’t entirely certain the threat was over. He’d ordered his footmen to remain even more vigilant. And thus far, it seemed that Charlotte was safe.
After his inspection, he walked along the hallway and greeted Braxton and Mrs Newton before asking, ‘Where is the duchess?’
‘She is outside in the gardens,’ the housekeeper answered.
Of course she was. Alaric gave a quiet order to have his belongings brought inside, but he kept his coat on and walked around to the back of the house in search of his wife. The morning sunlight was vivid, and he shielded his eyes as he stood on the stone terrace and searched for a glimpse of her.
When he couldn’t see her anywhere, he chose one of the gravel pathways that led around the perimeter of the grounds. He continued searching and studied the forest that lined part of the property. He wondered if Charlotte had ever walked the trail that led uphill overlooking the fields. She would probably enjoy the view, particularly now.
When he reached the southern part of his grounds, he found her at last, kneeling in the dirt while she trimmed back some sort of plant he didn’t recognise. Her blonde hair was caught up beneath a brown bonnet, and her gown was a drab blue with some sort of rough apron over it.
‘Hello, Charlotte,’ he greeted her.
She jolted and then turned. ‘Alaric… I didn’t realise you were returning today.’
He gave a nod and then answered, ‘My business in London has concluded, so it was time to return home.’
There was a strange flash of some emotion on her face before she masked it. ‘Welcome back.’
She started to stand, and he offered his hand to help her up. But she ignored it and dusted her gloved hands together. ‘I ordered some seeds from London, using my pin money. And I’ve planted some bare root roses.’
He didn’t know what else to say other than, ‘That’s good.’
But what he wanted to know was, Did you miss me? Did your bed feel as empty as mine did?
He hadn’t wanted to stay away. But she’d cut him off so swiftly that he’d wanted to give her anger time to heal. And yet he’d missed her.
He wanted to take her in his arms right now and kiss her soundly. But it was clear from her demeanour that she didn’t want that at all.
‘I brought you a gift from London,’ he said.
‘That’s kind of you.’ But her voice was quiet, as if he’d spoken of the weather. He didn’t know what to do to bring back her enthusiasm or her smile. A feeling of uncertainty caught in his gut, making it clear that he needed to change his approach.
Wasn’t this what you wanted? a voice inside warned. A marriage in name only?
He had once wanted that, yes. But it seemed hollow now. He’d enjoyed it when there had been friendship between them, when she’d gossiped and shopped with him. It had been pleasant having flowers and holiday greenery around the house. And he wanted to bring that back somehow.
‘Would you like to see your gift?’ he asked.
‘Later,’ she responded.
Her quiet rebuff was likely what he deserved.
‘I will give it to you at luncheon then.’
‘Oh, tonight will be soon enough,’ she responded. ‘I have too much to do in the gardens.’
He didn’t know how to respond, so he simply inclined his head. ‘Until later.’
It occurred to him that he needed a strategy to gain her forgiveness—but he hoped the gift he’d bought for her in London would be a good start. As he walked through the gardens, he continued past a bed of crocuses and saw a purple blossom budding from the earth, similar to the one he’d seen at his London townhouse. He glanced behind him and then picked the flower.
His wife wasn’t the only person who could put a flower in a vase. And maybe that would bring forth a smile.
He cradled the blossom in his hands as he entered the house, wondering where to place it. In her room, he decided.
He asked a maidservant to bring him the smallest vase in the house. Then he decided to order his own luncheon to be served in his wife’s bedchamber, along with a slice of her favourite cake. Though he didn’t know what flavour that was, perhaps the dessert would soften her feelings. He suspected his wife might return to her room after her gardening.
