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“Those scars did not repulse you?”
“Not after a moment,” Edwina said honestly, “but he must be very self-conscious about them to wear the mask like he does.”
“Maybe he just needs to see that you do not mind,” Lizbeth suggested. “He may assume that everyone is repulsed by them and protects himself against the ridicule and rejection.”
“Can he not see that I am not like that?”
“How could he? He is right if he told you that you should get to know each other better, though.”
“He did not really say it as such,” Edwina said, pulling a face. “He just said he wanted us to get more comfortable with each other. But I cannot do that if he will not even let me around him!”
“Give him some time to come to his senses today,” Lizbeth suggested, patting her hand. “He hurt himself and is likely tending to his wound and his ego. He could hardly miss a formal supper with his new bride. Engage him then. And in the meantime, perhaps you could become acquainted with your duties as a duchess?”
Edwina tapped her fingers on the armrest of the chair, pondering how she could get him to bend to her will.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Edwina found herself alone. Lizabeth was busy with whatever chore she needed to do. Simon disappeared likely conducting some of the Duke’s business. The Duke himself had not yet returned home.
Edwina found a book in the library and settled into a seat to read for a while but found herself still too upset to focus on the words. She threw the book down and started wandering around the halls, trying to remember the tour that His Grace and Simon gave her.
In the ballroom where they had spoken their vows, she stared out the large windows. Sunlight streamed in, highlighting the dust in the air, but in the distance, dark clouds rolled in across the horizon. Memories of the previous day stabbed her in the heart, and she quickly fled the room.
Any chance that she might have had to make it out of doors that day vanished as the wind started howling outside. As she continued to wander from room to room, the ghastly scene of the weather outside kept distracting her. Her mood quickly deteriorated as well from annoyed and upset to angry and as moody as the sky outside.
She wondered how she could make the Duke pay for how he had treated her so far. His Grace had acted like anything but a gentleman to her. She replayed every interaction she had with him so far, thinking of any hint or clue that she might get toward his character, what drove him. Stopping in the hallway, she looked up the stairs where his study lay. If anything, perhaps something there would give her clues.
She laid her hand on the doorknob, wondering if it would turn. Gently, she turned her hand to the right, felt it latch open, and she slowly pushed the door open. Her heart began to pound, feeling like she was invading the Duke’s privacy, and somehow, he would know. He might spring upon her in anger or barge in to demand to know what she was doing. However, when she stepped in, no booby traps accosted her, and no footsteps came running down the hall.
She closed the door behind herself and took in the room. Like all the other rooms in the house, the study felt bare of any decor or sentimental items. His desk was clean except for an inkwell and a pen. She sat behind the desk in the large leather chair, feeling dwarfed by the size of the furniture. Supposing that he must have some ledgers or journals somewhere on his desk, she tried to open the drawers, only to find those locked. Frustrated by having not found out anything new, she drummed her fingers on the desktop.
As she stood to leave, the door began to open. She sprang away from the desk, her heart pounding in her chest, worried that the Duke had found her at last. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Simon enter, carrying a stack of ledgers and letters.
“What are you doing in here, Your Grace?” he asked, confused.
“I, uh,” Edwina stammered. She cleared her throat. “His Grace said that I should feel at home. So, I have been inspecting all the rooms to get a feel for the place.”
“Is that so?” Simon asked, setting the stack he carried down on the desk. He turned to Edwina as though he would not leave until she did.
“I thought I might bring in some flowers for the rooms. Surely, the house must have a collection of vases that can be used. If His Grace uses his study frequently, I think it best to start here.”
Simon stared at her in shock. “Did he say this was acceptable?”
Edwina raised her chin, trying to appear confident. “He told me to make this my home, and if there was anything I wanted, to name it. And I want to bring some life into the house, starting here.”
“I see,” he said, looking skeptical. He turned toward the door, gesturing for her to lead the way. “It is just that, this is his private study, and typically, I am the only other person that he allows in here.”
She led the way out into the hallway, smiling politely. “Oh, I understand. I will speak to Mrs. Wright at once.”
“You may allow me,” Simon suggested, walking with her further. “I do oversee the rest of the staff in the house. It is my duty.”
“Please, allow me,” Edwina said with a smile. “I need the diversion.”
Without allowing him an opportunity to protest any further, she charged down the hallway, feeling determined in her made-up mission. Surely, she would irritate the Duke with her scheme, but there could be no harm in having flowers brought into all the rooms of the house. Besides, speaking with the housekeeper and the gardener would give her something to do.
When she got down to the servant’s quarters, Mrs, Wright was scolding a scullery maid, though not unkindly. The maid looked up to Edwina and curtseyed quickly, causing Mrs. Wright to turn.
“Your Grace,” she breathed, caught off guard by Edwina’s presence. “What can we do for you?”
