Chapter 8
“Have I told you how beautiful you look?” the Duke asked.
Helena started at the comment, caught by surprise. And for good reason.
They were sitting across from one another in the carriage, the silence the theme of the trip as they slowly made their way toward Westshire Estate. The sun was just now drifting down the skyline, still light outside, but evening would soon be upon them.
And Helena, annoyed at the Duke for so many reasons, was doing everything she could to ignore him.
Easy to do, as he was happy to say nothing.
As has been the case for the past week.
She was staring out the window, fidgeting with her gown, nerves starting to rise as she braced for the evening’s affair. She knew what to expect and how she was expected to behave, but the idea of doing so still felt strange, far too false, and she worried about how the Duke was going to treat her.
That was when he finally spoke, a compliment that she had not expected because it was entirely too soon to give it.
“Excuse me?” She started and turned to find him staring at her.
“I said you look beautiful,” he repeated. “That gown was a wonderful choice. It suits your eyes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is it not too early to say such things? Better saved for when there are people around to hear it.”
He shrugged. “The truth does not require an audience.”
Helena frowned at him. The Duke was watching her, his blue eyes glimmering, the smirk still on his lips but not quite as cocky as it often was. There was an earnestness in his gaze, and she very nearly allowed herself to believe that he was being honest.
“What do you want?” she sighed, her shoulders slumping, sick to death of his games. “You still have not told me.”
“What do you mean?”
“This!” She gestured around them. “Us. Why did you insist on marrying me? And do not say it was because you wished to save me. That was an excuse you used, but not the real reason. Why bother with a marriage that you have made painfully clear you have no desire for?”
The smirk faded from the Duke’s lip. The smile in his eyes vanished. He scowled, his body turning rigid, an awkwardness taking over that saw him shift and lean away before turning and gazing out the window.
“It is not important.”
“It is,” she insisted. “I deserve to know.”
“It matters not,” he said, refusing to look at her. “My reasons are my own, and in a few months, they will have nothing to do with you.”
She thought to press the point. There was still so much that she did not know, that which she felt she had the right to. For all his arrogance and his charm, there was more to her husband than he was letting on. Another side to him that he seemed desperate to hide.
Before she got the chance, however, she felt the carriage slow. Finally, they arrived.
“Here we go,” she sighed as the carriage came to a stop.
There was already a row of them before the large manor, most with their doors open as various guests climbed out. She reached for the handle to join them.
“Not so fast.” The Duke sat forward.
“What?”
His smile had returned, and he held out a hand for her to take. She eyed his hand as if she did not know what to do with it. He raised an eyebrow at her. Having no choice, she sighed and placed her hand in his.
“Now, we may exit.” As he spoke, the door swung open. “Oh, and I was speaking honestly earlier. You really do look beautiful.”
His smile was caring and honest, and the way he held her hand was gentle and protective. If Helena did not know any better…
But I do know better, and that is the entire point
They exited the carriage together, hands intertwined, smiles on their faces. And once their feet hit the pavement, his hand slipped around her waist and pulled her close as he waved to some of the guests he knew.
“Your Grace!” An elderly lord waved back, also with his wife. “Good to see you!”
“We would not miss it!” the Duke laughed. “And my wife was desperate to get out of the house.”
Helena was caught in two minds.
On the one hand, that rebellious side of her wanted to spurn the Duke’s false affections and push him away.
She did not like playing the dutiful and loving wife, lying to people, pretending that they were in love and that they thought the world of one another.
And a small part of her rather liked the idea of upsetting him by not playing along.
On the other hand, she would have been lying to herself if she didn’t admit how good it felt. There was just something enchanting about it.
It felt to her like being a maiden in one of her stories, back in the days when she wrote such fantasies.
To be doted on and admired. To be lauded and worshipped.
To be looked at by the Duke in a way that suggested she was all who mattered to him, and should the world end today, then he was glad for one more second to spend with her.
But I know it is false. Worse, I want it to be false! Yet for reasons I cannot fathom, where the Duke is concerned, I can’t help but feel pulled in by it. I just wish I knew why.
“Come then,” he whispered in her ear. “Let us mingle.”
She had no choice but to follow, just as she had no choice but to smile, just as she had no choice but to allow him to hold her. She did have a choice in how much she enjoyed his touch, but she had little control over it.
And so went the most awkward and confusing evening of her life so far.
In hindsight, it was exactly what was promised: she and the Duke, spending the evening together, pretending to be a happily married couple in the throes of romantic bliss. The Duke had told her how he would treat her; he had shown that side of himself already, and it was on full display.
“I was insistent that we make it this evening,” he explained to some of his friends. As he spoke, he kept his hand on her waist. “Just because I wanted to show off my wife to the world—remind everyone how lucky I am.”
“It’s a strange thing when the rest of our lives feels like such a short time,” he joked later that evening with their host. “I might need two lifetimes, and even that won’t be enough. Such is how much I adore this woman.”
He turned and smiled lovingly at Helena, and she smiled back.
“Oh yes, a week of wedded bliss so far. No complaints. Isn’t that right, my sweet?” he asked as a small group watched on.
“That is right, my love,” she responded on cue. “Wedded bliss like nothing else.”
Helena was finding it hard to see through the lies. She knew that they were as such; she did not delude herself into thinking there was any truth behind them. But he was so honest and real, so kind and caring, so darn perfect that it became hard to look past the exaggeration.
And the fact that a part of her wanted it to be true…
That was where the danger lay, and the confusion reigned supreme.
This marriage was not a love match. Helena wanted to feel nothing for her husband.
But as the charade carried on, with the Duke holding her close and looking upon her, radiating love and adoration and all those good things, she felt her stomach turn, her heart flutter, and her desire grow for a man she knew deep down felt nothing for her.
She focused on how he had treated her this past week. She focused on the arguments they had. How angry he made her. Her own demands!
She did what she could to separate fact from fiction, refusing to give in to his charm. Yet, all the while, she felt that pull within her. And she hated that she did.
Something needed to change. And soon.
Helena was determined to see it done because, despite everything, she was starting to feel that she would not and could not fall for her husband. That would be a tragedy like no other.
“Shall we have a drink?” the Duke asked as they walked into the manor together.
Helena stopped short, staring blankly at her husband, not certain she had heard him correctly. “What did you say?”
“A drink?” He closed the door behind them and exhaled, allowing his shoulders to slump as if a great weight had just fallen off them. “After this evening, I need one. I felt like a dog being asked to jump through hoops,” he laughed. “But at least the dog is given a treat at the end.”
She was still staring at him, still not fully understanding what was going on. “A drink, you and I? Right now?”
“Yes,” he said carefully, as if she were the one overreacting. “Is that a problem?”
It had been a long afternoon and evening, and Helena was simply glad to be home and free from the charade. What she wanted was to crawl into bed, close her eyes, and put the past few hours behind her. She was still confused by the whole ordeal, still unsure what to think and what to do.
But some time apart from her husband was sure to solve her issues. And as she had learned this past week, time apart from her husband was not going to be a problem. Or so she had thought.
“You wish to have a drink with me?” she asked again. Slowly. “Right now?”
“You know, if you continue to repeat yourself, we are going to be here all night,” he joked. “Better that we skip to the end and you just agree. Now, come on…” He walked past her, headed toward the drawing room. “I’m thinking a whiskey might—”
“No,” she said finally. “I do not want to have a drink with you.”
He turned back and frowned curiously. “You don’t?”
“Of course I don’t! Why would you think—What is going on? I do not understand what you are trying to do.”
“Helena, remind me because I might be misremembering, but were you not the one who earlier today was complaining about my spending the past week ignoring you? Did you not imply that you wanted me to try harder?”
“I…” She hesitated, wanting to tell him that he was mistaken, while knowing very well that he was not. “It is not that simple.”
“Apparently not.”
She did not know how to explain what was wrong. She did not even know what was wrong! This was all so confusing, and she was at pains to figure out why.
Yes, she had been angry that he had ignored her all week. And yes, his suggesting they have a drink should have brought her relief. But she could not get past this evening, how she had felt when he had praised and complimented her, and now she was worried that she might give him the wrong signal.
Or maybe she would read this situation the wrong way. What if… Was there a chance she might fall for him?
That sounds ludicrous. But whenever I think of how he treated me this evening, when his eyes worshipped me… it is not so strange to consider.
“I was wrong,” she forced herself to say. “What I said earlier, about you avoiding me. I was wrong to be so upset with you.”
“Were you now?” He tilted his head, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “I am only asking to have a drink, Helena. It is a strange thing to admit, but you were right about what you said. If this is going to work, we really should get to know one another better.”
“No, we should not,” she retorted. “There is no need. If this evening proved anything, it would make little difference and…”
She felt her heart thud, the desire to swallow her words and accept the drink.
He was watching her closely, his stare piercing, not as loving as it had been this evening but just as alluring.
“And I wish to remind you of what I said when I first arrived here. What you promised.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked.
“This marriage is not real,” she insisted. “Nor will it ever be. For that reason, I think it is best if…” She grimaced and looked away. “If we continue as we have been. It is for the best.”
She almost waited for him to argue. She wanted him to. But that was dangerous, and she did not trust herself. Or him, for that matter.
Having said her piece, determined to believe it was the right thing to say, Helena put her head down and stormed past him. And thankfully, he did not try to stop her.
Helena was a storyteller. For as long as she could remember, she had lived in her own head, constructing tales of pure fantasy and exaggeration, often forgetting the real world or even mistaking it for the stories she loved to create.
Harmless, she had always thought. A way to escape and forget what was expected of her.
Now, she was beginning to see the danger.
She was struggling to separate fact from fiction, unable to see the difference between the lies the Duke told and the truth. It confused her, made her question herself, and was leading her down paths she did not want and was at pains to avoid.
Best that she realize this now and put an end to it. Best that she not let it go any further. Perhaps she and the Duke might get along. Perhaps there was a chance they could find a middle ground and be companionable, so the next few months would not be so terrible.
But it was a risk; she had already tripped over once, and the last thing she wanted was to fall flat on her face and ruin everything.
And embarrass myself terribly while I am at it.
The Duke had no feelings for her. She had no feelings for him. Recognized now, admitted to by her, committed to because that would make things easier.
It would be a long and lonely few months, Helena knew, but at least she would come out the other side as she had started—alone… and better off for it.