Chapter 18 #3
“Would you like to take breakfast with me instead?” Simon blurted out at the butler, unlike himself. He was realizing that the silence did not sit well with him.
If he was surprised by Simon’s question, he did not let it show.
“Take breakfast with you, Your Grace?” he repeated in a neutral tone.
Simon ran a hand through his hair. He had spoken without thinking. He did not know what had gotten into him, just that it was difficult for him to stop now once he had started.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Sit down and have a meal with me. Would you like to do that? Surely, you must be hungry.”
“I am honored by your most generous offer, Your Grace,” the butler replied. “But I fear that it would not be very appropriate for me to join you for a meal.”
“What is so inappropriate about accompanying me for a meal?” Though as Simon spoke, he realized that his statement was not directed towards the butler in the slightest.
“It is simply not done, Your Grace,” the butler struggled, rightfully hesitant. In all his years working at the estate, Simon had never once before asked him a question like this.
“Well, I’m the duke, aren’t I? If I say it is done, then it is.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” came the reply, but the butler made no move to join him.
Very well, then.
Simon exhaled sharply and glanced down at his plate. It was pathetically empty. He had been waiting to eat with Rachel. Now, he was alone with no one to talk to except a butler who refused to participate in his attempt at conversation.
“Fine,” Simon muttered. “If you won’t eat with me, at least ask me something.”
“Ask you something, Your Grace?” The butler’s tone was growing increasingly more weary. He seemed concerned, more than anything, at Simon’s sudden shift in behavior.
“Yes.” Simon gestured vaguely. “A question. Anything you like. I am sure you must be curious about something.”
The irony was not lost on Simon that for someone who disliked being interrupted by too much chatter at the dinner table, he was now seeking someone out to ask him questions—as Rachel had.
Annoyingly so, he added as an afterthought. Because that is what her questions were, annoying and nothing more. And certainly not something he would miss.
“Well?” Simon snapped at the butler, impatient now. “How hard is it to do?”
The butler nodded once, then cleared his throat. “Very well, Your Grace. How is the weather today?”
“You were just outside,” Simon replied flatly. Is that really the best that he could come up with?
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Simon exhaled through his nose. “It’s fine.”
The butler gave a single nod then clasped his hands behind his back, as though the conversation had concluded.
“What else? I would think that you would have more questions for me,” Simon prodded. The duchess seems to have an inexhaustible supply available at all times.
“You requested a question, Your Grace,” the butler said, expression neutral. “I asked you one.”
“Ah,” Simon ran a hand down his face. “Forget it. Just—bring me more tea.”
“At once, Your Grace,” the butler replied, suddenly more at ease.
It turned out that there was no replacement for Rachel’s annoying chatter, but Simon willed himself to be patient. It was just for breakfast. He was certain that the duchess was going to come to her senses by dinnertime.
But dinner came, and still, there was no sign of Rachel.
That was deliberate. She was making a point.
“Shall I have a plate sent up to Her Grace, Your Grace?” the butler offered sympathetically, sensing the tense manner in which Simon glanced at the entrance to the dining hall now and then.
Simon set his knife down, lifting his wine glass instead. He took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch. So, this was how she wished to go about things?
“No,” he answered at last, his tone neutral. “That will not be necessary. The duchess is perfectly capable of requesting a tray if she wishes to eat.”
If she meant to make a statement, then he would let her. It would pass.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” the butler replied.
But Simon’s own appetite had vanished now. He had had enough of this.
He decided to take matters into his own hands.
Within moments, he was on his feet. He had to find the duchess himself, for she had made up her mind to avoid him entirely.
It took him some searching, but he finally found her on the balcony. For a moment, he simply took in the sight of her. He had not seen her all day.
She was leaning against the railing, apparently lost in thought.
Simon coughed to make his presence known. But she did not turn around to acknowledge him.
Right, he thought to himself. She was not going to make this process easy for him.
“Did I disturb you?” Simon began calmly. “I do not wish to intrude on your hiding place.
“Hiding implies I did not want to be found,” she replied almost immediately.
“Did you not?”
“I would not make that assumption without knowing the truth,” she shrugged.
“It is hard for me to tell what the truth is, considering that you have been missing all day,” Simon stepped forward, clearing his throat. “So which is it? Were you hiding away here, or simply out for some fresh air?”
She took a long moment before answering. Simon found himself growing curious about what she must be thinking. “I suppose that depends on why you’re looking for me.”
“You missed dinner,” he said, eyeing her closely. It was silly to think like this, considering she had only missed two meals, but it looked like she was thinner.
Simon found himself worrying instantly.
“I am surprised you even noticed,” Rachel quipped, still not looking in his direction. “Or that you were even present at the mealtimes to begin with.”
Simon ignored the sarcasm in her voice.
“Were you attempting to make some kind of a statement by not showing up?” he asked bluntly. “A protest of some kind, by depriving yourself of food?”
“You tell me?” She turned to face him fully. “What did you make of it?”
Simon studied her for a long moment.
“I should tell you that your statement has been received,’ he sighed. “If that was what your intention was.”
She seemed to soften at that, but only for a moment.
What are you thinking? Simon even surprised himself by just how curious he got when it came to her. Usually, he couldn’t care less about the internal workings of people’s minds, but with her, it was different.
“Why are you here, Simon?” she sighed finally, as if she had just lost some kind of argument with herself.
Simon pondered over his response for a moment. He could simply say that he was taking a walk after dinner and just stumbled upon her by accident. That would be the more Simon-esque answer—always nonchalant, never trying too hard.
But to his own surprise, he found that he did not wish to lie to her.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Perhaps your presence at the table was missed, and your little statement achieved exactly what you intended.”
Rachel’s eyes widened slightly at his admission, and her lips parted slightly, but within a single second, she had restored her expression to one of passivity.
“Glad to see that at least your observation skills have seen some improvement,” she replied tartly. “I would not have put it past you not to notice my absence at the table altogether.”
“You are angry at me,” Simon stepped forward.
“Not in the least.”
“Let me put it this way then.” He was not going to let her talk her way out of this. “You are being difficult on purpose.”
“Oh…” A shrug and then the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Am I, really?”
Rachel was determined not to make this easy for him.
“You seem as though you have taken something to heart,” he sighed. “I think there has been some miscommunication between the two of us.”
“Pray tell, what words did I take to heart? Because, if you have not noticed, you are not exactly a man who is keen on saying too many of them,” she huffed, now folding her arms out in front of her.
“You are my wife,” he replied. “You do not simply vanish from my presence without explanation.”
To his astonishment, she laughed.
“Oh, Simon,” she murmured, shaking her head as if he had just said something terribly amusing. “You truly have no idea.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
“I did not vanish as you so poetically put it. I simply removed myself from where I was no longer required. You are a reasonable man, and I would think that you would appreciate the gesture.”
“What rubbish are you talking about?” Simon replied, irked. “When have I ever implied that you are not required?”
Rachel held his gaze for a moment. “You did not have to say it, of course. It would be doubly humiliating if I waited around for you to say it. A hint is enough for the wise, as they say.”
“Rachel,” Simon warned, closing the distance between them now. Rachel tried to take a step back, but her spine hit the boundary of the balcony. He noticed her gulp.
“You are trying to intimidate me with your proximity,” she huffed, crossing her arms again as if to put some distance between them.
“I am trying to figure out what on earth has gotten into you that has made you act like a recluse and go into exile,” he said through gritted teeth. “And I do not appreciate you keeping me in the dark.”
“You made it quite clear last night that my presence—my thoughts, my feelings—were of no importance to you,” she sputtered out. “So I adjusted accordingly. You do not get to act as though you are so astonished now.”
For the first time that night, Simon was speechless. How had she somehow gotten the impression that she was unwanted? If anything, he was having to go to great lengths to stop wanting her.
Rachel seemed to interpret his silence as something else entirely, for she tried to push past him, but Simon held her back.
“I am not letting you run away,” he said.
“Let me go, Simon.”
“I will not,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Not until you stop running from me.”