Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
There was only so much for Rachel to occupy her days with.
It had now been a week since she had moved into the estate, and most of her conversations had only been with the staff. Simon spent most of his time either outside the estate or in his study.
She rarely got to see him. Yes, she had thought distance was the best thing for them, but now, she found herself wanting her husband’s company.
“Maybe he just does not see me as someone with whom he can get along,” she said to herself that morning. He was infuriating, sure, but certainly, they could have things in common with one another.
That was when Rachel devised a brand-new plan. She had to win favor with the duke.
After breakfast, she caught up with Agnes, who was making her way over to the duke’s study.
“Hold on a moment, Agnes,” she stopped her. “Is the duke in there?”
“Your Grace.” Agnes curtsied immediately. “No, His Grace is in his chambers.”
“So why were you going into his study?” Rachel asked.
“It requires the daily cleaning, Your Grace. The duke is very specific about timing—he has strict instructions for his study to be cleaned before 11 in the morning every day.”
“Hmm…” An idea began to take hold in Rachel’s mind. “Agnes, do you mind if I do the cleaning today instead?”
Agnes nearly did a double-take. “I… I am not sure if I understand, Your Grace.”
“No, no. You heard me.” Rachel grinned and extended her hand for the maid to pass her the supplies. “I shall do it this morning.”
After all, wasn’t that what a nice and devoted wife would do? Rachel was not sure if she fit the description, but she could pretend that it would help the duke see her differently.
Agnes hesitated. It was very uncommon for a duchess to make such a request, but ultimately, she had to agree. Rachel, excited, ventured into the study with Agnes trailing behind.
“Your Grace, perhaps I can assist you…”
“No need,” Rachel said, already beginning to roll up the sleeves of her dress. “I shall take it from here. Thank you, Agnes.”
The door shut behind her, and Rachel got to work. Strangely, this felt familiar. In her own house, she was tasked with cleaning the rooms. She was good at this.
Expertly, she wiped down the desk—resisting the urge to peek into his documents as she stacked them into a neat pile in the corner. She even dusted the shelves and was in the middle of rearranging the flowers when the door swung open behind her.
“Duchess Montrose.”
She froze at the sound. It was the duke, and he did not seem pleased in the slightest.
“Oh, I am not done yet,” she replied. “Is it possible for you to come back in a bit? I will have a better finished room for you then.”
Simon looked at her as though she had grown an extra head. His gaze swiped across the room and then to the small mop in her hands. “Are you cleaning?”
“Yes, I thought that much was obvious,” Rachel responded with a shrug of her shoulders.
She did not understand why he looked so irked with the whole thing, as it wasn’t as though she had broken any of his rules.
He had asked her to stay away from the attic—not his study.
She was perfectly within her rights to be here.
Besides, as his wife, surely it wasn’t unreasonable for her to want to contribute to the upkeep of her new home.
“Who gave you permission to be in here?” he barked, walking over to her now.
Now closer, Rachel was able to notice that his hair was slightly wet. Perhaps he had just stepped out of his morning bath. The thought made her blush slightly, and she quickly straightened herself.
“I was not aware that I needed permission, Your Grace,” she said. “I thought I would tidy up a bit in your absence, since I live here now…”
She resisted the urge to add, which you seem to forget entirely. “I thought it would be appropriate to make myself useful.”
Simon was silent, but she could sense the storm of emotions that was brewing inside of him. His jaw tightened, and he began to survey the room, checking for anything that she might have changed.
“Did you bring in those flowers?” he asked.
“Oh, the daffodils?” she asked brightly. “Yes, I did. I got them from the garden. I was told by the gardener that you enjoy them, and I thought they would be a good addition to the room.”
“You should not have come into my personal space like this,” he told her, shaking his head now.
Ah. So he had decided to be difficult as usual.
“I am afraid that I do not see it like that,” she countered. “This is my home, as well. Surely, it is not wrong if I decide to come in here.”
Simon narrowed his eyes at her. She could sense that he was trying hard to control his growing frustration.
“You may choose to do what you want in other rooms,” he stated. “But this one is mine.”
Rachel found herself getting frustrated, in spite of herself.
“So, you would much rather the maid came in and made changes? Instead of me?”
“It is her job to do so,” Simon barked. “You should not interfere with how things are.”
Rachel could not believe him. She had expected him to show at least some sort of gratitude; a nice word, if not a thank you, would have sufficed. Even Letitia was capable of doing that.
“So tell me,” she turned to him, irked, “What exactly am I supposed to do around here? You expect me to sit around like some ornamental doll, waiting for your permission to exist, and I refuse to do that.”
Simon’s expression darkened, his shoulders stiffening. “When it comes to intruding on my personal place, you do require permission. In fact, I shall make it easier for you. You are not allowed.”
“So I am no longer allowed in the study, either?” she replied, “At first it was only the attic. Soon, you will disbar me from leaving my room.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Are you done with your theatrics?”
Of course, he thinks I am overreacting.
“What I’ve done…” Rachel said slowly through gritted teeth. “I cleaned your desk, Your Grace. I brought in flowers so that you may see them as a thoughtful gesture. I was trying to please you, but apparently, that’s impossible.”
Simon thought he was going to have a calm morning, but as usual, a certain someone made it impossible. All he had asked from her was to leave him in peace and let him continue with his life as it had been before he had been roped into this marriage.
But no, she seemed to lack basic comprehension skills.
So, imagine his fury when he found her in his study—between his things—cleaning and rearranging things as if it was no issue. It irked him, and her stubborn explanations even more so.
As she stood in front of him, going on about her tirade about how she was not to be treated like an ornament, he found his mind wandering.
Such a fiery young woman.
Simon could not help but notice just how frantic her movements became when she was upset with him. Her eyes widened, and she had a noticeable flush on her cheeks.
She was passionate, that much was certain.
A wayward thought entered his mind then, and he found himself wondering just how much of that passion would be carried into the bedroom. He was curious to find out.
If he ever got the chance.
His mind was spiraling in another direction entirely, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to sanitize his thoughts.
“Are you even listening to me?” she said, walking up to him. She looked adorable with her hands settled around her hips, staring up at him like that.
“Yes. Unlike you, I do not have comprehension issues,” he replied dryly, which only seemed to set her off even more.
“You are impossible,” she sneered.
“As are you.” And you need to be punished.
It was an intrusive thought, of course. But she had caught his attention.
How would she react if I were to grab her and fold her across my lap? And what if he were to bring one of his hands and slap her bottom? Perhaps she would let out a whimper, not out of pain but pleasure.
Would she ask him for more? She had reacted well when he’d bitten her lip. She’d moaned into his mouth.
The more he thought about it, the more nefarious his thoughts seemed to get. He imagined her making it up to him, settling between his legs, opening her sweet little mouth—
God.
He had to stop his thoughts now, or else he was going to find himself in a very difficult situation.
“Duchess,” he cleared his throat. “Why do you insist on doing the things that I ask you not to do?”
“You never told me not to venture into your study,” she defended.
“Sure,” he took a step away from her. “But I do not understand—is there really nothing better for you to do than clean my study?”
It occurred to him then that perhaps he was being a bit too harsh.
“Perhaps if my husband actually involved me in his affairs, I would have something better to do.”
“You expect me to involve you in my affairs simply because we are married?” Simon exhaled, his patience thinning
“That is usually how marriage works,” she replied, straightening slightly.
“How naive of you.”
“I am not naive.” Rachel’s jaw clenched. ”And I would very much prefer if you did not refer to me as such.”
She was being feisty again. He had to admit, it was fun getting her riled like this. But he had to compose himself.
“You are if you believe that our marriage functions like any other.” His voice was cold now. “This is not a love match, Rachel. We both know why this arrangement exists.”
“I am here as your wife. The woman who shares your home and your title—”
“But not my life,” Simon interrupted, his tone firm. “And it would be good if you understood that, for it is how I intend for it to remain.”
Rachel swallowed hard, looking away from him. “Why?”
Simon did not answer immediately. He did not wish to outrightly offend her, but he knew that he could not convey his thoughts without some feelings being hurt in the process.
“Because,” he started, carefully at first. “I do not need a wife who wishes to meddle in my affairs.”
“Meddling? Is that what you think I’m doing?”
Ah, he had managed to offend her.
“I think you are searching for something that is not here,” he said. “You want to make a place for yourself in my life, but I am telling you now—you will not find it in my study nor anywhere else.”
Rachel fell silent. Simon understood that he was being too harsh again, but it was hard to stop. The duchess took a steadying breath.
“You may shut me out, Simon. You may throw up every wall you can think of. But I am your wife, whether you like it or not, and I will not simply disappear because you wish it so. You have so many rules for me, but I have a favor to ask of you.”
“And what is that?” the duke grumbled, curious in spite of himself.
“Join me for breakfast each day,” she requested. “I am tired of being alone in this house. I would like to get to know the man to whom I am married, even if only a little. Surely you can afford to spend that little amount of time with me.”
The duke considered her request for a moment. “Very well,” he finally agreed, “Now go,” he demanded, pointing a stern finger towards the door, and she had no choice but to leave.
“Breakfast,” he repeated to himself as she left. Surely, that was not too difficult a demand, especially if it meant that it would bring peace to his house.
He would concede to it. Not because he wanted to, of course.
At least that is what he told himself.