psithurism

vi: my husband is my suitor

"Y-Your Grace."

I immediately faced to the right when he leaned in. I closed my eyes when I felt his lips touch my neck. I punched his chest lightly, letting him know I'm uncomfortable of our closeness.

I heard him sigh before he stepped backward. "No separation will take place, wife," he said. "Not in this lifetime."

With that, he went to his office table and started doing his paperwork while I awkwardly sit on the settee. I can still feel my cheeks hot of the embarassment from our encounter.

I sat on silence, not looking at him. But as seconds pass, my eyes started wandering around his office. It has a minimalist design while the walls are dirty white.

My eyes landed on the different portraits in the wall of his office. I stood up and walked toward them.

Warren Vadecois (1350-1451)
Weagan Vandecois (1419-1470)
Weagan Vandecois II (1438-1502)
Wraige Vandecois (1470-1555)
Weagan Vandecois III (1524-1580)
Warren Vandecois II (1581)

I didn't realize I had been looking at the paintings for too long. They were the portraits of the patriarchs who spearheaded the duchy.

His Grace is the sixth and current ruler of the dukedom. According from the hearsays I heard when attending tea parties, the duke's father, the late Duke Weagan Vandecois III died while his mother was carrying him on his womb. He basically took the weight of the duchy and its responsibilities the very same day he was born.

However, there are also rumors that the mother of His Grace never showed herself to the public. In fact, there is no recorded history of any of the duchesses married into the dukedom ever attending social gatherings, aside from the wife of Warren Vandecois I, Duchess Nara Daffdil-Vandecois.

The absence of the ducal matriarch is one of the reasons why the Vandecois became a mysterious image to the public. Rumors are also circulating of about supernatural activities going around the mansion. That didn't bother me for in my eight years of living here, I had proven that wrong.

What sends a desolate shiver down my spine is the fact that... the men in the paintings are the exact carbon copies of each other.

"Wife, why don't you play with our daughter for now?"

I flinched when I felt him whisper right behind me. My eyes widened as I turned to him.

He's too close for my comfort.

I immediately stepped back and curtsied. "Then I shalt hath my leave," I said and went out without looking at him.

The moment I went out of his office, I was able to breathe. I clutched the cloth on my chest and panted. While catching the breath I didn't know I held in, my eyes wandered on the long hallway of the third floor.

I stood straight and stared at the hallway. There are only three doors here- one is His Grace's office. I don't know what had gotten into me but I took a step toward the other doors. I was a step away from the door knob when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Your Grace?" I immediately looked behind me and I saw Sir Juandre's serious face. "The young miss is waiting for you in the library."

I forced a smile not minding his tone. I stepped away from the door. "Then I shall leave," I said and went downstairs.

I spent my day with Charlotte. Right now, she's having her ballet lessons and I'm sitting in the corner but my attention is diverted into something else. My hand balled a fist when I remembered the duke.

Why did he showed his face now?

"Mama!"

I looked at Charlotte when she called me. I immediatley made her sit on my lap. "What is it, child?" I asked her.