Chapter 18
Late Night Study
“Ireally like this room,” Abigail said. “Was that always here?”
“What? Oh, yes. It was just closed, never used,” Prim responded.
Abigail’s announcement made her feel happy, at least at first. Now, sitting in this beautiful room that she had decorated, she wasn't so sure.
Could she talk with your friend freely? Could you share how she felt, what was really going on behind the closed doors of the estate?
Which, honestly, was not much. Apart from renovating this room and taking care of the library and some basic logistics for the estate, she had nothing else to report about married life.
“I am really happy it all worked out, Prim,” Abigail said honestly
Prim would really love to make a follow-up question regarding how Abigail believed that this situation is how everything should be worked out. She would really hate to see things not work out. But she was now a Duchess, there was some image to uphold and the same went for Leo.
“Yes, I think it's truly for the best,” Prim lied through her teeth.
“It would be really lovely if you were actually convinced of that,” Abigail said.
“Am I that obvious?”
“Well, I am observant. Plus, I pride myself on knowing you a little. This compliant fake reaction is not the real you. What did Leo do? I can send word to Edwin to come here.”
“That is not necessary. Leo has been generous and polite, especially regarding how we ended up in this situation.”
“Generous? And polite? Are we still talking about Leo?”
“I know what you're thinking, but trust me. No matter what goes on in your mind, it couldn't be further from the truth.”
“I am not thinking something unconventional… I was merely asking if you were happy.”
“I am content.”
“Content is not happy.”
“I know. I do have some generic grasp of English.”
“They say that couples start to look alike. Look at you already deflecting with humor just like our Leo does.”
Prim looked at Abigail with a deep look.
She knew that her friend meant well, that she was worried after all that had happened.
But how could Prim explain the extent of emotional labor, the responsibility, and the blame she had shouldered not in the past days, but for years.
And how it feels to think that for the years to come, Prim can never relax and rest.
“I know it can feel overwhelming,” Abigail leaned and tapped Prim’s hand. “I was a poor vicar’s daughter before I became the Duchess. I had completely given up on marriage. But life does not always evolve according to our expectations.”
“That might be the understatement of the century. Despite what everyone thinks, I never truly believed that I would find myself married to Leo.”
“Leo is many things, but he will never turn his back on his responsibilities. I am not talking about the incident at the ball. I am talking about his family coming after you. This was the only way to protect you.”
“I hope you hear yourself because then you would have the answers to exactly how I feel.”
Abigail frowned and looked at her friend with worry. Prim wanted to say everything and nothing.
Sitting in the lavish room for which she had spent an amount of money that she had never dreamed of, drinking the most precious of tea and having an assortment of biscuits made by a cook who was especially hired for them, made her feel like an ungrateful, rebellious bird flapping against her golden bars for her cage.
“I do not know what's going on between you and Leo. I do not want to assume. And I can see you're not ready to talk about it. Just let me tell you that I know exactly how it feels. And if I may, my sweet friend, a little reminder. Yes, Leo is a powerful Duke, this vast estate is his family’s, and he has wealth, power, and authority. Still, regardless of how and why, you are now the lady of this house. You are a Duchess.”
That night, Prim was sitting in her chambers. Her cozy sitting room had a little fireplace in previous looking at the flames dancing. The rose ring on her finger caught the light.
It had been another typical day. Only Abigail’s visit disrupted her mundane routine.
And also, the fact that Mrs. Byrne, very sternly but sincerely, praised Prim because she brought order to the household without a hint of tyranny.
Perhaps the staff was merely happy that they didn’t have to accommodate crying ladies running out of the estate.
The dinner was quite lively. Leo asked about Abigail's visit, which reminded Prim that she could visit her friend too anytime she wanted and that she had a carriage at her disposal at all times.
Prim had told Leo that Abigail had praised the changes to the new drawing room, to which Leo nodded. And that was it.
Now, she was in her room staring at the fire, and he was in his study, buried in ledgers. Tomorrow, the same day will begin, and Prim was sure that the dinner would be completely silent because they had exceeded the allocated interaction time for this week.
With a deep sigh, she made her way to her bedroom. She looked at her vast, empty bed and then at the locked door between her room and his, a stark reminder of what was left between them.
You are a Duchess.
Abigail’s words resonated in her mind. Prim paused.
Her chest drew deep breaths, her nails dug in her palms. She was a Duchess.
Maybe Leo married her to avoid the scandal and because he felt responsible, but now, she was the Duchess of Mildenhall.
She was not a charity case, she was not a responsibility, she was not merely a manager of the estate.
All her pent-up anger and guilt and resentment came rushing to her, happy to be acknowledged finally. She was no longer content to be a quiet, polite ghost in her own home. If Leo were angry at her or resented her for what happened, he would have to face her and tell her.
With that new resolve, she walked out of her room and made her way to the place she knew he spent all his nights, to that wretched study, his hiding spot, the room he had forbidden her to enter.
She reached the door and didn’t even hesitate. She hadn’t hesitated to invade his personal space that first night she stormed in, and she had no intention of hesitating now that she was the lady of the house.
She turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Leo was sitting on an armchair, staring at the fireplace, a glass of amber liquid halfway to his lips. His expression changed from weary thought into something utterly stunned.
“I do not recall granting you entry,” he said, his voice a low, warning rasp.
Prim stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft but final click.
“Perfect,” she hissed, “because I don’t recall asking for permission.”
“Go back to bed, Prim.”
“I don’t think so,” Prim defied. “You and I need to talk.”
Leo, with slow, deliberate moves, set his glass down at the mahogany table. The sound echoed in the air between them. Then he looked up at her. The light for the fireplace was the only one in the room and now caught the sharp angles of his face and made the blue of his eyes, dance deeper.
“We can talk about it over dinner tomorrow,” he said, looking away. “Whatever it is you want to do or change in the estate, you can-”
“I am not here to talk about remodeling!”
Prim was shaking with the intensity of her feelings, her spine a rod, her chest a machine of breaths, her eyes fierce. Leo must have seen the resolve because he stood up, taking the alcohol with him.
Prim watched as he stood by the fireplace, putting distance between them. He studied her over the rim of his glass. His look was icy cold as he raised his shields. Prim was determined to shatter them.
“What is it of such great importance that you have to disrupt my peace at this hour?”
“Is there an hour that His Grace’s peace would be gladly disrupted?”
“I do not appreciate the sarcasm.”
“You'd better start fast.”
Leo’s jaw tightened. He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers over the rim of the glass. He was trying to intimidate her, to dismiss her, to make her run away. She was not going to oblige.
“I want the truth. Now. Tonight,” she said through gritted teeth.
He looked away, his whole body tense. So that’s how it was then. He couldn’t even look at her anymore. Prim felt grief swell inside her, like a knot, a vise around her neck.
“Do you hate me, Leo?”
His eyes snapped in hers in all their force. She tried so hard not to break, but she was stretched so thin for so long that she simply couldn’t take it anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes, she could feel them at her lashes.
“Am I so repulsive to you?” Her lips were trembling. “You won’t even talk to me, you discard me like I am a member of your staff. I thought that we could…”
“Repulsive?” He repeated with a low growl.
“Repulsive, vile-”
“Do not talk about yourself like that!”
Prim looked at him as his authoritative voice echoed in the room. He searched her eyes, and she ground her teeth as a tear was spilled.
“That is what you think I feel?”
“What else am I supposed to feel?” She ground. “You wouldn’t even look at me, not a word, not a letter, the three weeks before the wedding.
“Prim, I-”
And now,” she continued, the dam inside her broken. “Now you just look right through me as if I am not there! I am! I am here! In your house! As your wife!”
Her voice cracked on the last word, her energy almost depleted. She was panting in exhaustion and anger.
“I do see you, Prim.”
She shook her head in disbelief.
“I do,” he demanded her attention.
“You do? You see this,” she points at her state of complete agony, “and yet you choose to ignore it. To discard it with fake politeness and logistics reports. You knew how I felt all this time, and you chose to treat me this way.”
Prim’s body became an iron rod. She composed herself, wiped her tears, and straightened her back.
“I thought you were merely ignorant.” Her voice was strained but even. “Now, I see you are cruel. Very well.”