Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Adrian might have defended her and danced with her, but when he entered the carriage, he was back to his cold formality. Once again, he retreated behind his walls.
You belong to me… in every way that matters.
His words still had the power to make her shiver even though the man who sat across from her had become like stone. Even in his silence and chilly demeanor, he still held an intensity no other person she had ever met held.
Daphne thought about how this man made her see stars and touched her where she needed to be touched. Then, he retreated so far away as if they could never achieve a middle ground and locked the door between their rooms every night.
Arriving at the Wolfcrest townhouse made the chill bite against her more. She might not be as talkative as Wilhelmina or Victoria, but the silent tension would eventually kill her.
A full week passed with the kind of silent tension she dreaded.
The Duke spent his days in his study, possibly balancing his ledgers.
Sometimes, a solicitor would come. On other days, men who managed his properties arrived.
They would give her a quick polite greeting and head off to Adrian’s study.
Her husband had closed the door to his life against her.
Some nights, he would leave with his coachman in one of his carriages. The wheels would rattle away. Then, near daybreak, she’d hear him back. It was getting out of hand. There were now dark circles around her eyes, reflected by the large mirror he especially brought for her.
“I believe we need to make more changes with the color,” she said, as she refocused on managing the Wolfcrest manors and townhouses.
“Any particular idea, Your Grace?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.
“Nothing, really, but I want the place to be less gloomy. More welcoming. I know we don’t really organize balls. That is not His Grace’s way, but it can become the future of Wolfcrest. What do you think, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Your Grace. We may need some more yellows and pinks, if I may so boldly recommend?”
“Mm. We can find patterns and designs to use. The colors do sound more inviting. If you must know, Mrs. Fletcher, my mother trained me to be agreeable to others, but that does not mean I like catering to a crowd. Yet…”
The pause might have taken longer than she meant it to be because Mrs. Fletcher expressed her agreement: “Yet you know the value of forging alliances and want to help the Duke with —”
This time, Daphne helped the housekeeper complete the thought. “Help the Duke with his reputation.”
After a while, the housekeeper left her to attend to her other duties, while some maids assisted with the actual decoration. In those moments, Daphne forgot about her main problem, the enigma that was the Duke of Wolfcrest, her husband.
Later, Mrs. Fletcher came back, a little breathless. She looked up to the older woman expectantly, wondering what had the housekeeper looking ragged.
“You have a visitor, Your Grace,” she announced, looking strained. “It’s the Marquess of Amberwell.”
Daphne knew then why Mrs. Fletcher sounded strained. Caleb was Adrian’s friend, yet he was visiting when the Duke seemed not to be around.
“My visitor?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Grace. He insisted on seeing you.”
Daphne’s heart lurched. She did not know what to make of the visit. It did give her something to do. Someone to talk to. Still, she did not know how to navigate such an irregular visit, especially from a man who was her husband’s closest friend.
At least, it was not Briarwood. The Earl knew that he would never be welcome at the townhouse that belonged to her and her husband.
“Show him to the drawing room, Mrs. Fletcher,” Daphne instructed, after a pause. She smoothed the muslin of her simple, blue gown.
She took the time to clear up whatever she could before heading for the drawing room. There, the Marquess stood waiting by the mantelpiece. He looked more like a scholar than a nobleman with his coat slightly rumpled.
Did he come to see me upon a whim?
It seemed so. The only thing that remained, somehow, much to her relief, was his mischievous face. He seemed prone to making jests.
She liked knowing that the Marquess was Adrian’s dearest friend.
Their connection meant that her husband was not completely without light.
There was a darkness that seemed to pull Adrian away from time to time, and the night outings were becoming too frequent.
She doubted that Amberwell was in all of these nocturnal meetings.
“Duchess,” the marquess greeted with a low bow of easy familiarity. He had the warmth that Adrian tried to keep in control—the one she insisted on in herself that the Duke somehow hid within him. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“My lord,” Daphne replied, offering her hand, which Amberwell kissed with respect, and with less humor than she expected. “Do you have an urgent matter to discuss?”
The two of them proceeded to sit on opposing chairs. She noticed that the marquess did not look as confident as usual. There was a certain worry there in his eyes, but probably she was merely projecting her own anxiety. She still did not know what the visit would be about.
“I came here for a few things, primarily to apologize,” he began.
“Apologize? Whatever for?” she asked, truly perplexed.
“For goading the Duke at the ball. I imagine he was a little incensed already when he approached you,” he explained.
“No. He was furious because a lord had said terrible things about me and my honor.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” he said, uncharacteristically solemn.
“It is all right now. Your friend has managed to stop any more insults being hurled my way. He defended me from Lord Salthouse’s slanderous words but gave an ultimatum to everyone who could hear.”
A maid entered the drawing room and placed two cups of tea on the table between the two of them. She passed each cup to the Marquess and Daphne.
“He did say something about wanting to protect you,” Amberwell admitted, accepting his cup of tea.
“It was the first time he had willingly abandoned self-control in public. Usually, he would only do that in the confines of his own domain. You have triggered something raw in him, Your Grace. It scares him more than any ledger book or rival.”
Daphne suspected now that the visit was about Adrian. It seemed that Amberwell wanted to talk about his friend, so he came when the Duke was not present. She relaxed a little but was desperate for more information.
“Does he think he corrupts everything he touches?” Daphne asked, giving her tone a playful lightheartedness as if she were merely playing with something so common. “He believes that I need protection from others and from himself.”
“Oh, he does. He now knows the importance of keeping the people he cares about safe. He keeps a heavy burden within him. He cares about you, and he trusts you enough to share his name and everything he owns with you. Unfortunately, it is also what makes him run away from you.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
Lord Amberwell leaned forward, dropping his voice to a low but intense whisper. “He carries a great burden from the deaths of his mother and his sister. They did not die of an illness. He lost them in the most brutal way.”
“How?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch, as she felt a chill come over her.
She could still remember the details of the family portrait. There was something desperately sad about it. Now, she was merely beginning to see why.
“It is not my place to tell you. I imagine the servants were too loyal to the Duke to tell you. They may also be protecting you by keeping his secret. But this I know—please be patient with him. Do not let him drive you away with his behavior,” the marquess almost pleaded.
“The world saw a young Duke step in too early to take his title and immense wealth, but there is more to his struggles. He still believes he failed to protect the two people he loved most. He does not want it to happen again.”
Daphne wondered if he saw a damsel in distress in her. Perhaps he wanted to find someone he could protect, as he had been unable to with his mother and his sister.
Is this why he went underground and built a life that is almost mythical to other people?
“I want to understand him. How can I if he keeps on pushing me away? And do you think it is wise for me to remain here when half the time I do not think he wants to see me?”
Amberwell gave her a startled look. “Do you mean… do you wish to leave your husband?”
Daphne dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t you fret. I could not even leave even if I wanted to. Briarwood is a dangerous man, even more so now, and I would not venture out in town without a companion, preferably my husband, by my side.”
“Ah, well…” The Marquess breathed a visible sigh of relief.
“I am glad you have come to that conclusion on your own. But—if I might suggest one more thing? Instead of putting your blind faith in my friend and your husband, spend time trying to understand him. He built a life on silence and control. He is doing things that some people might frown upon, but there is a reason behind it. His life is not consumed by thoughts of power and wealth alone, but it is also about revenge.”
Daphne knew that there were fury and darkness within Adrian, but she never knew him to be capable of calculated revenge.
Could he be?
“He sees you as a beautiful, innocent light. However, he is afraid to lose someone precious to him. Not again.”
“Did he tell you that?” Daphne asked, narrowing her eyes at the marquess.
“No, he did not, but I know him well enough. He needs your strength, though. He may be strong, but he needs someone on his side, whether he admits to it or not. Even the support I give to him through tough love. I don’t let him feel like I pity him.”
“I don’t pity him.”
“He must know his darkness does not frighten you.”
“I am not afraid of him.”