Chapter 18 #2
“Well, you should care,” Rachel tried to free herself from his hold, but it only made him tighten his grip.
“Then, have it clear in your mind that I do not.”
He stopped suddenly and then pulled her towards a small opening in the hallway where the wall concealed them from the view of prying eyes. She opened her mouth to protest, but he was quicker than her, as in a moment he had her pressed against the wall.
“Simon…” she tried to say, but he braced both of his hands on either side of her.
Oh my.
This felt like trouble, and her heart was beating out of her chest. He was too close. They were in public. Surely, none of this was acceptable.
Then why did it make heat pool between her legs? Her mouth opened slightly as his gaze bore down into hers.
“You ought to know better than to provoke me, Duchess.”
“I was not trying to provoke you,” she said, but her words lacked any conviction.
A part of her did want to see if she could get a reaction out of him, and she had succeeded.
“If you do such a thing again,” he said in a rough voice that made a shiver run down her spine, “understand that it will not be without consequences.”
“And why should I worry about the consequences?” she asked, mustering the last of her courage. She knew that her resolve would not last for much longer if he remained in such proximity to her.
And she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Surely, someone would see. It would be his way of laying a claim on her. It horrified and excited her equally that she wanted him to.
Simon held her gaze for a moment, leaning down only slightly, but then, abruptly, he pulled away from her.
“We are going home.”
She followed him into the carriage. Inside the carriage, it felt cold. He refused to say a word to her, and she did not know what to say either. So, they spoke not even once for the entire ride back to their home.
But the patience ran out as soon as they entered the privacy of the estate.
She stepped down as soon as the door opened, ignoring Simon as he followed closely behind her.
“What was that?” she demanded.
“I think it is time for you to sleep, Duchess,” Simon said, in a hurry to get rid of her as usual, but she was not in the mood for his evasion tonight.
“No,” she folded her arms in front of her. “I will not let you leave tonight without an explanation. What you did on the dance floor, in front of everyone….”
“You should not bother with people’s opinion,” he offered. “The one person you should bother with is your husband.”
Oh. He dared to pin it on her.
“So, it does not concern my husband when I am humiliated like this?”
That seemed to catch him off guard. “I did not humiliate you. I saved you.”
“Saved me from who?” she questioned. “Lord Ashford did not mean any harm. He simply asked for a dance. And forgive me if I wish to have a dance at a ball.”
Simon’s expression darkened. “You should not have been dancing with him.”
“Pray, tell what was the alternative then? Should I have waited for you instead?” She stepped closer, furious now. “You left me, again. What was I supposed to do? Stand there like a fool, waiting for my husband to acknowledge me?”
“It does not matter what you do while you wait. No other man is allowed to touch you.”
She gulped loudly, feeling a tinge of excitement sprout inside of her once again.
“You should consider yourself lucky, if anything. Tonight, I restrained myself,” he went on. “But what I really wished to do was bash his head in.”
“You would not have done such a thing,” she said, almost as though she was challenging him.
“No man is allowed to touch you,” he repeated. “No one but me. If you break that rule again, then I shall punish you.”
Her breath caught.
“Punish me?” she repeated, though her voice was no more than a whisper now.
“Yes. You deserve it after your antics tonight.” His gaze darkened again, and his eyes flitted over to her lips. “Consider this a warning. Next time, I will not take so kindly to another man touching you like that.”
“You say that,” she carried on, ignoring the shiver that his words had sent down her spine, “but then you refuse to touch me yourself. Why is it that you get so angry about something that even you do not wish to do?”
Perhaps her words were too direct. The way that Simon’s eyes widened certainly seemed to suggest so. But it was the truth.
“So, forgive me,” she went on, taking advantage of his stunned silence, “but I do not quite understand your anger.”
“You do not know what you are talking about,” Simon said in a low voice.
“How convenient,” she said. “To claim that I simply do not understand. Well, if that is really the case, then why don’t you simply make me understand? Surely, you think that I possess enough faculties to comprehend your explanation?”
“I do not wish to have this conversation with you at this moment.”
“Oh, no. I shall not let you walk away from this again,” Rachel blurted out. “Make me understand. I am tired of basking in confusion at your actions.”
Simon remained silent.
Rachel’s chest tightened. Of course, he would rather brood in his anger than explain anything.
Typical of him.
“Are you done, Duchess?” he challenged. “Because you could use the rest. Clearly, you’re far too agitated.”
God damn. She hated that even in this moment, she felt attracted to him.
“I have followed all your rules, Simon. I have never asked you where you go, never questioned your absences,” her voice wavered as she said the words, “even though….”
She stopped herself then, but Simon kept looking at her, challenging her almost.
“Go on,” he said, locking his jaw. “Even though what?”
“Even though I suspect you have a mistress.” The words rushed out of her before she could stop them.
Never had she imagined that this was the way that she was going to convey her concerns to him. But in the heat of the moment, the truth was hard to conceal.
Simon’s expression shifted immediately into one of bewilderment.
“You do not want me, but I have never accused you of betrayal. I have given you space,” she said. “But if it is true that you are going behind my back, then I do not think that you have a right to tell me what to do.”
“Rachel…” Simon said. She could not place the emotion in his voice. Was it guilt for having been caught, or was it remorse? Both options were equally devastating.
She decided that she did not wish to hear from him anymore.
“I believe that we are done with this conversation,” she announced and began to walk away from him.
It must have been the truth, for he didn’t call after her. Didn’t stop her.
Most of all, he didn’t deny it.
You have a mistress.
It was an accusation that no husband wanted to hear from his wife’s mouth. One that would require an explanation, an elaborate apology, or at the very least, a denial.
But Simon Linwood gave none of these. Instead, he had just watched the duchess walk away from him.
A part of him was surprised by this. He had never really known her to be the accusatory sort. She had not shown any indication before, and therefore her words had come as a surprise to him.
So much so that he was still only processing the meaning of her words when she had simply walked away from him.
It was a wild assumption to make, that was certain. And he didn’t know if it was something that she had thought on her own, or if someone else had fed her this nonsense.
But whatever it was, the thought remained with him for the rest of the night.
He poured himself a drink, thinking that it would make him distracted enough not to think about it.
He had never really been in a situation like this before. A part of him thought perhaps he should clear the air and go to her. But then he remembered just how furious he was when he saw her dance with another.
It would be a good revenge, he thought to himself. So he was not going to bother himself by correcting her. Let her think what she wants. If only for the moment.
That night, Simon had the worst sleep he had had in ages. First, he was too irked by the accusations that the duchess had levelled against him. Afterwards, he had been too annoyed to go to sleep properly.
He had spent most of the night tossing and turning in his bed.
When the dawn finally broke, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least the morning would bring with it some change of scenery.
Making his way down to the breakfast table, he expected to see Rachel waiting for him as she usually did. He had already rehearsed in his mind the conversation that he was going to have with her. But when he reached the table, he noticed that she was not there.
Strange.
The duchess was rarely late for breakfast. She was usually here before him most mornings, reminding him of the importance of being punctual.
Still, Simon took his seat. She would come, he was certain of it.
But then more and more time began to pass, and he began to wonder seriously if she was going to show at all.
“Where is the duchess?” Simon asked the butler, who stood nearby.
“Her Grace declined to join you for breakfast this morning, Your Grace,” he replied promptly.
“Declined?” Simon repeated, one of his eyebrows shooting up.
“Yes, Your Grace. She said that she would take her breakfast in her chambers this morning, and that I should inform you if you ask about her.”
“Right,” Simon found himself sulking. If you ask. So, she was anticipating that he would.
Rachel was many things—bold, at times utterly exasperating—but she was also predictable in certain ways. And breakfast, of all things, was something that never took place in her chambers.
Ah. So, this was her protest.
Simon exhaled quietly, reaching for his cup of tea.
“No matter. It will pass,” he muttered to himself. He did not take Rachel to be the type who spent long sulking. If anything, it would be a challenge to keep her in that self-exile of hers. Soon, she would move on.
As she should.
But as much as Simon hated to admit, having breakfast all by his lonesome was not a welcome experience.