My Favorite Smut Author Is My Husband! - Chapter 26
The line she thought was perfect, her whole plan—everything had failed miserably.
“My wife, are you feeling unwell?”
“…No.”
“Are you troubled by something? If you don’t want to go to the bookstore, I could redirect the carriage.”
“…No, it’s fine.”
In truth, Lily wanted to vent about last night to someone. She had asked for a maid to ride along with her in the carriage, hoping for someone she could confide in, but to her surprise, the maid from the Duke’s household had joined instead of the one from her father’s estate.
Little did Lily know, the maids had guessed there’d be some secret conversation if one of them accompanied her in the carriage, leading to a fierce but covert battle over who would get the chance.
“My lady, your complexion is paler than usual. You even took some medicine for a headache before we left.”
“Do I really look that bad?”
“You look troubled.”
Of course, Lily’s face was as fair and beautiful as ever. To the experienced maid, Lily looked more like a child whose candy had been taken away, but she went along with it to coax Lily into talking. Just what kind of trouble had His Grace the Duke caused in a single night to leave her so distressed?
The maid couldn’t help but think of Lily as a young girl, forgetting that the Duke wasn’t much older than her mistress.
“It’s nothing, really. It’s just… does the Duke not understand indirect expressions?”
“Pardon?”
“Or perhaps he just dislikes them? Would he just ignore it unless I said it directly?”
Lily had tried to hint seductively last night by borrowing a line from a novel, but whether her signals were too weak or he simply didn’t notice, Ashulin had simply bid her goodnight after finishing his tea and left the room.
“If it’s the latter, then I feel a little disappointed. No, honestly, it stings a bit.”
“My lady…!”
Although Lily’s complexion was as fresh and beautiful as ever, her headache was genuine—she hadn’t slept much. Her frustration stemmed from feeling twice rejected, first about the novel reference and then in her desire for intimacy. She’d spent the night furiously pounding her pillow.
“I admit that it’s my fault for not being direct, but sometimes a woman just wants to say things indirectly, doesn’t she? Was I too vague?”
“Not at all, my lady! Goodness, for His Grace the Duke to be so cold… Even as your maid, I can’t help but apologize. I’m terribly sorry, my lady.”
“Oh, there’s nothing for you to apologize for. Please, don’t.”
Ashulin had done the same—why were the people of this household so quick to bow and apologize? Lily, flustered, helped the maid up, but inwardly, the maid ground her teeth. His Grace had undoubtedly slighted his young bride.
The maid had felt hopeful when he’d visited Lily’s room late last night, thinking things were progressing well, but the chilly atmosphere when he left, barely an hour later, told her something had gone wrong.
In her mind, she pictured the Duke coldly telling Lily not to wait up for him if he came in late. In fact, based on his behavior before leaving the estate to see Lily, that would be more in character for him.
“Oh, we’ve arrived. I’ll be going in alone, so you may rest here. Feel free to stay in the carriage.”
Just as the maid felt on the verge of blowing her top, the carriage came to a stop. She watched as her young mistress, looking bitterly resigned, stepped out without an escort, opened the bookstore door herself, and entered.
“My poor lady! What is she going to do?”
The maid stomped her foot, finally venting her frustration. The impact was so strong that the coachman glanced back in shock, but she, identifying strongly as a woman with her mistress, couldn’t help her anger. She thought, *What kind of shame must it be to yearn for love and intimacy, only to be rejected?*
“Did His Grace truly marry her with no intentions of his own?”
Indeed, aside from the butler, few in the Duke’s household believed in the tale of “love at first sight” and couldn’t help but wonder about the marriage that had happened so swiftly.
The most prominent opinion held was that since women were no more than stone statues to him, Ashulin likely picked the family that first proposed an alliance, simply based on status and appearance. How could there be any affection when he had merely seated an appropriate person beside him?
The maid fumed as though it were her own misfortune.
“I must do something to help.”
She vowed to return and discreetly enlist the support of others in the Duke’s household, who were sure to be waiting for her news. While it wasn’t her place as a servant to discuss her master’s troubles, sometimes the power of collective wisdom and assistance was simply necessary.
Rationalizing her plan, she stomped her foot once more, as if the Duke himself lay beneath it.
***
