Chapter 20 #2
Something flickered across his face, but he did not answer.
“I thought the days of waiting for you in the long hours of the night were over,” Rachel sighed, finally allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. “But you’ve put me in that position again.”
“Rachel, you should not wait up for me,” he sighed.
“But I did,” came the reply. “You missed dinner.”
“It could not be helped.” His reply was so cold that it almost made her shiver.
It could have been helped, she thought bitterly. He could have sent word. Could have told her not to wait, could have—
”I prepared something special,” she continued foolishly in some vague hopes that he would redeem himself any moment.
“There was no need to,” Simon replied tautly.
Rachel stared at him, confusion knitting her brows. There was no need to?
“No need to?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “Simon, I wanted to have dinner with you. Surely you can understand—”
“We have had dinner many times together before,” Simon interrupted her halfway.
“I do not see how this time would have been any different or special. You should not waste the staff resources and time in preparing elaborate feasts when you do not even know if the guests are going to be in attendance.”
Rachel felt a sting at that. That was a bit too harsh.
”What has gotten into you?” she asked, searching his face. “Yesterday—”
She could not bring herself to complete the sentence. He knew very well how he behaved yesterday and how it was miles away from the man in front of her now.
“Rachel,” he said warningly, as if he already knew what she was about to ask next.
“Were you really out for business?”
“Do not start with this…”
”Because I cannot help but wonder, Simon,” she murmured, “what kind of business keeps a man away the morning after—”
“That is enough.” His voice was sharp, and his expression had hardened. “We have gone over this before, and I have already assured you that I do not have a mistress.”
“Then why do you stay out late like this?” Rachel felt desperation clutch at her sides.
She knew that these accusations from her side were crazy, but what was she to do?
She only wished to know more about her husband and the places that he kept company.
“I thought that we had progressed and that you were going to give me more answers now.”
“Rachel,” he said so calmly that it only irked her, “you are exhausted. Go to bed.”
Rachel stared at him, her breath unsteady. “You always do this.”
“So perhaps it is time that you start listening.” He shot her a pointed look. “Good night, Duchess.”
And with that, he simply walked away as if it was nothing at all while Rachel was left staring in confusion.
Maybe I should have considered his schedule more, Rachel found herself thinking at the breakfast table the next morning. Simon’s late arrival had spoiled her dinner plans, but a part of her wondered if she should have blamed him when he did not even know that such a dinner was happening.
You are being oddly optimistic, a voice in her head rang out, but she ignored it. So what if she was? It was better than presuming the worst and making herself miserable well in advance.
“Very well then.” She folded her napkin out in front of her. She was waiting for him at the breakfast table now. A nervous-looking butler hovered close to her. “Is His Grace planning to make an appearance?”
Rachel had barely finished the question when a familiar voice answered instead.
“Has my wife grown impatient already?”
Rachel startled slightly, glancing toward the doorway where Simon stood. The butler stiffened immediately, giving a swift bow before stepping away. He looked eager to clear the room before any tensions between the two of them escalated.
“Well, how could I not?” she said sweetly. “It seems that you have developed quite the habit of keeping me waiting.”
Simon arched a brow as he strode toward the table, taking the seat opposite her. “Is that what this is about?” he mused, pouring himself a cup of tea without looking at her. “Another scolding for my late arrival?”
“You say scolding,” she murmured, “but I rather think of it as a gentle reminder.”
“And I need gentle reminders for having breakfast late in my own house?” Simon asked, taking a sip from his cup.
“It seems to be that way,” she nodded. “I did plan a rather grand dinner last night. One that, unfortunately, went cold in your absence.”
“Rachel—” Simon looked as though this entire conversation had only exhausted him.
“But then,” she interrupted, “I realized that it would hardly be fair to hold such a thing against you, when you didn’t even know it was happening.”
Simon did not reply immediately. Rachel knew that it must have disarmed him, for he must have thought that she would argue with him.
“Maybe I should have considered your schedule more,” she continued. Though it is another thing entirely that I do not know what your schedule is.
”Good.”
Rachel watched him scarf down the remainder of his food, as though he had not eaten in a long time. She had never known him to be this urgent.
“You are particularly callous this morning,” she observed.
“And you are particularly persistent.” Simon looked up at her briefly. “I thought that I had missed your questions in your absence the other day, but you have swiftly reminded me just how irksome they can be.”
Rachel wondered whether or not she should take serious offense at the words. No, this was normal. This was what we did—we insulted each other, but it was never out of malice.
“Ah, well. It would have been terribly unkind of me to let you miss the opportunity to be exasperated by your own wife,” she said in response.
“Indeed. How fortunate I am.”
“You say that as if you do not mean it.”
“I say many things I do not mean,” Simon muttered under his breath.
That seemed to set Rachel off, out of all the things that he had said. She straightened in her seat and tried to chew on a piece of the loaf. It was no good, however. Somehow, she had just lost all of her appetite.
What an odd thing to say out loud, Rachel thought to herself. Words had always been a problem between them.
Neither of them could ever really convey what they truly meant to each other.
Well, then. Communication between them might be less than ideal, but Rachel knew there was one other way in which they could communicate just fine.
“Simon,” she started, hesitantly. A flush of shyness overcame her as she pondered what to say next. “I was wondering something.”
“That does seem to be a habit of yours,” Simon murmured, cutting into his food without sparing her a glance.
Rachel ignored the quip and decided to continue anyway. Her husband had really woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.
“You should join me in my chambers tonight,” Rachel said, the words coming out faster than she intended. Her heart was beating fast. It was, after all, an invitation that implied so much.
“Should I?” he asked with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. That was not the response she had been anticipating. If his enthusiasm from the other night was anything to go by, he should have jumped at the invitation.
“It would not be unreasonable,” Rachel continued, keeping her own tone neutral to not sound too eager. Though she suddenly found herself questioning if asking him had been the right thing to do.
“We are husband and wife,” Rachel continued, watching him carefully.
“And it is rather normal for a husband and wife to spend the night together in the same chamber. So, why do you look as though I’ve just suggested something scandalous?
” Her frustration nearly boiled over at the end, but she reeled herself back in again.
“Because,” Simon said, “I had assumed you would prefer to focus on your sleep.”
Why on earth would you assume that? Rachel blinked.
“I do not understand,” she replied slowly, unable to mask the disbelief in her tone. “You are suggesting that I would rather focus on my sleep than pay attention to my husband?”
Simon looked away from her, not meeting her gaze.
“Yes. Rest is important, after all.”
Rachel stared at him. Of all the absurd things that her husband had said to her, this one might make it to the top of her list.
“So, that is your response?” she asked, voice pitched in exasperation. “That is all you have to say to me? You truly believe I asked you to my chambers for—what, a lecture on the importance of sleep?”
“I cannot claim to know your reasoning,” Simon said, “But I would assume you have had quite an exhausting week, and thus, a peaceful night’s rest would do you well.”
“Is that what we’re doing now?” She pushed her chair back with more force than necessary. “Pretending as if the other night never happened?”
“Rachel—”
“No,” she cut him off, standing abruptly. “You do not get to do this.”
“You are being dramatic for no reason,” Simon sighed. “Sit back down.”
“No, I shall not,” Rachel shook her head. “Not when you choose to act like nothing changed between us the other night. You are adept at twisting your words, but your actions did not lie that night.”
“Rachel, you are reading too much into this.”
“Reading too much into it?” she echoed, incredulous. “You kissed me like I was the air you breathed. You held me as if you couldn’t bear to let go. And now—” She gestured toward him. “Now, you sit there, sipping your tea as if none of it ever happened!”
“Why should I behave any differently?” Simon replied. “It does not change anything.”
“It changed something for me.” Rachel hated the vulnerability that seeped into her voice when he was being the opposite.
“What is there to acknowledge? Or change?” Simon leaned back in his chair, his expression impassive. “What we shared was… inevitable.”
It felt like a dirty word.
“You and I were bound to fulfill our obligations as husband and wife at some point,” Simon continued, his tone infuriatingly pragmatic. “It changes nothing between us.”
You are lying. She knew it in her heart. His words were detached, as though they were coming from something outside of himself.
“Tell me it meant nothing. Look me in the eye and tell me you felt nothing,” she challenged him.
Simon’s gaze flickered, but he quickly smoothed it into the same detachment as before.
“I will not entertain your fantasies.” Simon folded his arms in front of him. “And besides, I have an announcement to share with you.”
The shift in his tone was small, but it was enough. She felt it in her bones. Something was wrong.
“What is it?” she asked carefully.
“I will be leaving,” Simon exhaled.
“Leaving?” Her stomach lurched. The admission had come out of nowhere. “And where is it that you are headed off to?”
“I will be staying at one of my estates for a while,” he added so casually that it was maddening.
“For how long?” Rachel gripped the edge of the table.
“It has not been decided.”
“And when, exactly, were you planning on telling me?” Rachel let out a slow breath.
Simon met her gaze, his expression unreadable.
“Just now.”
How very convenient. She forced herself to sit back, feigning indifference, even as something inside her splintered.
“And what am I to do while you are away?” she questioned.
“You may do as you please.”
Do as you please. That was all he had to say to her? After everything? A hollow ache settled in her chest.
“I thought to have breakfast with you before I left so that I could inform you myself.” Simon shifted in his seat. “My carriage is ready.”
Rachel inhaled sharply. Was that supposed to be an act of kindness that he had bestowed upon her? She should have known better. She had allowed herself to hope, and Simon had reminded her exactly why she never should.
She straightened, smoothing the fabric of her dress. If he could be indifferent, then so could she. Two could play at this game.
“I see,” she said lightly, though the words felt like glass in her throat. “Then I wish you safe travels, Your Grace.”
Something flickered in his expression. For the first time, Rachel saw it. The hesitation. Did he not want to leave?
Her fingers twitched at her sides. No, she should not read into his actions beyond his words. It was how she had gotten into this mess to begin with.
But even so, if he had just reached for her, if he had given her even the smallest reason—perhaps she would have stopped him.
But Simon did no such thing. He simply exhaled, smoothed his expression, and turned toward the door.
“Take care, Rachel.”
Rachel remained still, listening as the sound of carriage wheels echoed through the manor.
She did not cry, nor did she chase after him. She simply stood there. How am I meant to feel?
She had not lost him today because, in earnest, she had never had him in the first place.