Miss Wendy Garren has resigned herself to one last tormented season in the Capital's condemning rich and titled high-society, under the critical and abusive eye of her parents, The Earl and Countess of Follies. At seven and twenty she knows she is t...
A knocking at the door pulled Rhys from the fitful sleep he had forced his body into, it took him a moment to regain his full conscious and the events from yesterday came tumbling back into his mind, the fireplace had long gone out and he felt a chill hanging in the air, he stretched his sore body out as he moved to stand up from the chair he had slept in as not to frighten his new wife. His eyes flew to her at the thought, she had created a lovely vision when he had finally quit stalling and headed up the stairs to their shared room late into the night. She laid on her back, her curls strewn against the pillows beneath her head in an enchanting flow of rich burn ringlets, her perfectly pink and full lips parted ever so slightly as silent, deep breaths escaped them, long, dark lashes fanned against her pale, freckled cheeks. He found he enjoyed seeing her so peacefully, almost all of yesterday she had worn a tired and defeated expression, one that tore at his heart. He had never meant to force this girl into a life, a marriage, she did not want.
A knock at the door reminded him what had pulled him from his sleep and he moved to answer the door. A young stable boy, no older than ten, stood with his cap twisting in his hands, flashing Rhys a smile with missing teeth as he began to relay the messages he was charged with delivering.
Wendy woke slowly to the sound of hushed voices, one deep and soothing, and one of a child. As she moved to sit up in bed she saw the Duke standing at the door, a boy informing him through lisped words that breakfast would be brought up to their room soon, as well as a packed basket to take on their remaining journey, once the door shut he turned to look at her and froze, obviously still expecting her to be asleep.
She took in his crumpled attire that he had worn yesterday and the untouched side of the bed next to her and her heart felt as though it had dropped into her stomach. Was he truly so repulsed by her that he could not even lay next to her? Did he think she would try to seduce him? He still stood there his eyes moving slowly all over her face and she flushed, realizing that she must look frightful with her nest of curls and probable sleep lines across her face, his eyes dipped down briefly to the rest of her and she flushed again, she had not realized that when she had sat up the blanket had fallen to her waist, only her dressing gown covering her. She hurriedly grabbed the blanket and lifted it over her chest, she desperately hoped she had not offended him.
"I will take my leave, please ready yourself for the day." His tone was tight, as if he was forcing the words through his throat, he bowed stiffly and quickly to her before he turned and left the room. She felt the tears of mortification burning behind her eyelids, he was so shocked and disgusted at the merest sight of her that he had to force himself to be cordial. Would it always be this way with her husband? would he never be able to forgive her for being stuck in this marriage with her? would they never be friends at the very least? able to hold a conversation or even stay in the same room as one another.
Wendy shook her head, there was no use in wallowing in self pity, she had never been prone to bouts of melancholy and she would not start now. Making her way out of the bed she washed her face, managing to brush the tangles from her hair she pulled two braid together to tie her hair back and left the rest to tumble down her back in curls that refused to be calmed, she did not want the headache of leaving it up while she was jostled around a carriage. A simple blue dress and black outing coat completed her outfit and she sat as she waited for the return of the Duke or the servants to bring breakfast, whichever came first.
As Rhys splashed the water against his face in a different room he had requested to bathe, he groaned. Each time he closed his eyes the imagine of his wife, wide eyed and flushed from sleep flashed through his mind, her breasts had peaked at the cold air in the room and the sunlight fluttering through the yellow curtains on the inn window had painted her in its light like the angels she resembled. Her hair was wild and he longed to dig his hands into it as he stole her mouth in a kiss. He had barely managed to spit words out of his mouth as desire threatened to choke him.
He groaned again as he remembered how she had rushed to hide herself from him, she did not desire him in that way, she may be the most beautiful woman he had ever met, but to her, he was no one but a man who she was forced to marry. A marriage he did nothing to stop, selfishly he wanted her as his wife, once he set eyes on her he knew no one else could compare. Had he walked away he knew deep inside that she would always be the one set apart from the others, the one he would always wonder about, the one he would long for after only a few short meetings together.
He quickly bathed, changing out of his worn and dirty clothes into a clean set of birches, a white shirt, and dark coat, he went without a pomp, his clothes simple despite the quality of the material showing the wealth of the man. He tussled his black hair and sighed as he made his way down the hallway and knocked slightly at the door before making his way into their shared room.
Wendy looked up in surprise as the servant girl laid the food out on the table before her, she had been having a friendly chat with the young girl when the Duke had stepped into the room, instantly they both had stopped talking, he cut an imposing figure though she knew he was kind. An unkind man would have left her to deal with the false rumors of the Capital instead of marrying her. She noted that his hair seemed wet and he had changed from his previous attire. He had another room? instead of sharing this one to ready for the day in.
The young girl finished setting out the food and dipped into a curtsy as she turned to go from the room. "Thank you, Lydia." Wendy called after her as the door clicked shut and they were left alone. She suddenly found her hands folded on her lap fascinating, she heard the chair across from her scrape against the wooden floor as he pulled it out and seated himself.
They worked in silence as they plated their breakfasts and ate, the only sounds in the room was the crackle of the revived fire and their silverware against their plates.
"The carriage is ready to travel and as soon as we have finished eating the servants will be up to take the trunks down and we'll be on our way to Thornberg estate.." His sentence trailed as if he was unsure of what to say and Wendy felt her cheeks flush so that she could not think of anything to say to fill the awkward silence. Her heart raced, he looked so dashing sitting across from her now, he leaned back in his chair and the white shirt pulled around his broad shoulders. His silky, black hair fell slightly into his face and his grey eyes pinned her to her spot.
"Thank you for keeping me aware of our plans, Your Grace." She spoke though she could not summon the courage to continue to look him in the eye, a blush spreading like fire across her skin "I will be sure to be ready at once."
"Rhys." His deep voice had her blue eyes shooting up to meet his steel grey gaze again "You may call me Rhys." He gave her a kind smile and her cheeks flushed once again. Could someone become ill from blushing too much? She wondered.
"Wendy." She choked out "please call me Wendy then." She smiled back at him and her heart soared at this accomplishment. She knew he would be different than her father had been with Bianca and though she knew it was foolish of her, she couldn't help but to hope that tentative smiles would bloom into so much more for them.
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