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Struggling to contain herself, Penelope dropped down into a curtsey along with the servants who had come out to greet their master. Acting as lady of the house, Penelope was the first to rise and hurried forward to meet her husband.
"Oh, husband, I am so glad to see you home safely," she said, her cheeks still aching with her smile though she found she could not stop. That was until she saw the look on Anthony's face when he turned from where he had been speaking to the coachman.
Though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, something about his expression left her feeling quite uneasy. Hoping to distract him from whatever might be on his mind, she quickly added, "Perhaps you might tell me all about your trip over tea?"
"Later, perhaps," came his response, short and strict as he started to walk right past her. There was no kiss, not even an embrace. In fact, he barely glanced at her as he added, "I am exhausted."
He is just tired from his long journey,Penelope assured herself, remembering all too well how the journey had exhausted her when she had first made it with him shortly after their wedding and again only a few weeks ago.
"As long as you are well, husband," Penelope called after him hoping that he might remember all that had happened between them before his departure. Yet he did not turn back or even offer reassurance that he was; he just continued into the house with little more than a grunt.
That night, things were no better. Having eaten dinner alone due to Cartwright's informing her that the duke was working in his study, Penelope found she could not hold off finding out what had happened any longer. The mood in the house couldn't be more different from what it had been before his departure. Then they had been blissfully happy in each other's arms, and yet now she felt as though there were one thousand miles of distance between them.
Having eaten and moved to the parlour, hoping her husband might join her, Penelope glanced at the grandfather clock and realised it was far later than she had anticipated. Though a large part of her knew that she ought to remain right where she was and wait, she couldn't bring herself to do so. The anticipation was beginning to eat her up inside.
Pushing herself to her feet, adjusting the velvet green gown she had worn specifically because her husband had said it was his favourite colour on her several weeks earlier, she removed herself from the parlour and headed for his study located close to the library.
Had his door been entirely closed, she might have turned around and headed to bed, but as she approached, she found she could see the flickering candlelight that suggested it had been left ajar, practically inviting her in.
Knocking gently, she waited to hear him call, "Enter!" and then carefully pushed her way in.
When he looked up from his paperwork, he looked quite surprised to see her, and his hands worked quickly to cover up whatever he had been working on. Perhaps if she had not been quite so concerned with why he was seemingly avoiding her, she might have questioned him on his sudden suspicious actions, but as things stood, she did not wish to push him any further away.
"Husband," she said softly, curtseying before she stepped a little further into the room. Seeing him sitting at the desk, she couldn’t help thinking of a night not so long ago when she had come in such a manner to see him while he worked, only for things to grow heated.
She could still remember how he had swept everything off his desk and made love to her right then and there, determined that he could make love to his wife wherever the hell he pleased. Though it had not been the most comfortable experience of her life, Penelope had loved every minute of it. Hoping to get back there, she closed the distance between them with a smile.
"I came to wish you good night."
"Good night," Anthony responded simply, and Penelope stopped dead in her tracks only a few steps from the desk. It was not like him to be so blunt with her, not since she had finally fallen into his bed and allowed him to claim her. The thought of it made her tremble, and yet a part of her couldn't help thinking,did I make a mistake? Is he tired of me?
Hesitantly, Penelope added, "I was rather hoping that we might share a bed tonight."
The way he cringed told Penelope everything she needed to know, yet she was unable to stop herself from at least trying one last time. Closing the final space between them, Penelope stood beside the desk, beside the duke, and said, "I know you must be tired, but I have missed you."
Instinctively and desperately, she reached out a hand to touch his cheek, surprised beyond belief when he lashed out and grabbed hold of her wrist. He forced her hand away and through gritted teeth, snarled, "Lady Rose, I am tired, and I am busy. We shall do this another night."
His tone gave her the distinct impression that whatever they would do another night wasn't going to be anywhere near as pleasurable as any night they had been together previously, and her gut churned with fear as she took a quick step away.
Her heart ached painfully. He had not called her Lady Rose for quite some time, instead choosing to call her wife or love. Though she could not be sure of what had happened, she was certain something had indeed gone wrong during his trip to London.
Holding back tears, she started to exit the room. "Good night, Your Grace."
She could barely hold herself together as she left, feeling her heart break into a million pieces as she did. And it was at that moment she realised,this is why I could never have left him. It is too painful!
Halfway down the hall, she heard someone call after her, "Lady Chatham!"
Surprised and still holding back tears, she turned to find Holden hurrying towards her. "Forgive me, My Lady. I was just in the kitchen preparing your warm milk when I found this on the countertop. It must have slipped from the mail basket."
Penelope's heart stopped beating the very moment she recognised the handwriting on the envelope that Holden was holding out before her. Only the unbroken wax seal on the back told her that whatever was inside, it had not been read.
"Thank you, Holden. I shall not be needing warm milk tonight," she said, barely able to stop her voice from shaking. "Go to bed."
"My Lady, I …" Holden started to protest, bowing her head with flushed cheeks.
"Go to bed, Holden. I am capable of removing my own gown when I am ready," Penelope insisted.
With that, she hurried to her room, relieved that the maid did not attempt to follow. She didn't stop to read the letter she had received until she was safely behind the bedroom door with her back pressed against the wood for extra reassurance.
