Every single thing about Amalia is making Henrick anxious.
Any man would see her as an amiable and obedient wife who would hang on every word they would say, but Henrick sees her as someone who is slowly provoking him and testing his limits. He knows that he cannot make Amalia amiable, and doesn't want to, but things will be better if only she would incite him with her honesty. That way, he would not walk on eggshells trying to pinpoint what she really wants.
Sighing, he brings back his focus to the papers in front of him. There is only about a week before his departure, and they might spend the whole spring in Strolis, so he needs to finish a lot of work.
"Lucas," he calls for his aide, and Lucas looks up. He is only a few years younger than Henrick, and came from the same ancestry as his. Although he is further down the family line, Lucas is still trained to be one day a lord of his own, and a very capable support in the castle.
"Yes, Your Grace?" he asks, his small smile and raised brows means he expects an important question. Henrick licks his lower lip before looking at his aide.
"Have you seen Edmund?"
"I saw him by the library just a moment ago. Do you need him?"
"No, it's just…" Henrick pauses his writing, "any chance that you've seen my wife?" he asks. Amalia did not join him for breakfast, so he wonders where she is. Recently too, she seems to be too conscious of him, more and more each day, like she wants to ask something so important. Henrick waited for her, but the question never came.
"No," Lucas answers immediately, "but I heard she's out on an excursion. She brought someone with her."
Henrick meant himself when he asked Amalia to bring a guard with her. Still he is relieved since she is safer now than before.
"And who is the lucky knight?"
Lucas exhales. "I heard his name is Damien."
"Damien? I don't know any of our knights of that name. Is he new?"
"Well, he is no knight nor he is from Adendiff."
The information almost sends Henrick over the edge. He stands, forcefully pushing his seat away. "Where are they?"
"I heard that Her Grace's route is always toward the southwest, outside of the gates. She must be visiting the villages of Doran or Teu, as they are the nearest to the castle." Lucas shifts in his seat. "Shall we follow Her Grace?"
Henrick stops, a cold chill crawling in his spine. He wants to see that Damien bastard who dared to guard a duchess, but he doesn't know if Amalia would be happy to see him tailing her. No, he is sure Amalia would not like it.
He looks at his window, cold wind seeping through the slightly closed frame. Even the scenery is quite grim, as if snow will fall anytime.
The last time that Amalia went into excursion, she was dressed lightly. Henrick only hopes she is dressed more warmly today.
He sits back and massages his temple, and then tells Lucas that there is no need. He only has to be a little more patient with his wife. He is sure he will see the root of this anxiousness and frustrations in due time.
***
"You are back, Your Grace," Jane and Edmund welcome Amalia back. The sun is already setting, but Amalia could still see the worry in their faces.
"Did something happen?" she asks, directed at the both of them. The two look at each other before looking back at Amalia.
"Well," Edmund fakes a cough, "His Grace wants to see you immediately, Your Grace."
"Of course," she replies, and then turns back to Damien, who is still waiting behind her. "Thank you, Damien. You may—"
"Sir Damien is also asked to join you," Edmund continues. Amalia looks at Jane, but the lady only nods her encouragement.
"Alright," Amalia replies. Edmund gives a curt nod before she and Jane set off, with Damien behind them.
"Let me take your cloak, Sir," Amalia hears Jane say, and before Amalia could say something, he hears Damien scoff.
"Again, do not call me Sir. I am not even a knight."
"Then remind me, how am I supposed to address you?"
"Just Damien is enough."
Damien is someone who towers over most people, maybe even the duke, but Jane, unafraid, only scoffs.
"You should take more pride than that, Sir. After all, you brought our duchess back in one piece."
"Huh, as if the duchess needs guarding." There is a tiny giggle that comes from Jane, and then Damien continues, not minding the volume of his voice, "why does the duke want a guard for Her Grace, anyway?"
"His Grace obviously believes that Her Grace needs surveillance."
"Ah, is that why Her Grace asked me to guard her instead of one of the Adendiff knights?" Amalia rolls her eyes as Damien continues, "well, I don't mind you calling me Sir once I survive this, milady."
"You'll be fine," Jane's tone is cheerful, but she and Amalia know Damien might take the worst consequence tonight.
The trip to Henrick's study doesn't take long. Soon, Amalia and Damien are in front of the duke, who doesn't look too well.
"So you are the one who guarded her," Henrick says after he places his quill back on the table. Damien is already bowing when Amalia glances at him. Sighing, she thanks whoever his parents are for teaching him some manners.
"Yes, You Grace."
"And where did Amalia pick you up?"
"I would rather you ask Her Grace," he answers. Henrick looks at Amalia, his eyes sharp like daggers. She almost shudders, if not for his husband's long sigh.
"You may go, Damien," he then says, taking Amalia by surprise. Before she could recover, Damien takes another bow at the both of them before stepping out of the room. Amalia hears the soft thud of the door before Henrick speaks again. "Do you have anything to say, Amalia?"
"What would you want me to say?"
Henrick sighs deeper this time. Amalia only stares at his table.
Amalia doesn't know what the duke wants. The contract that they established before marriage was clear and concise—have an heir and divorce, and Henrick must give Amalia enough alimony to live on her own for the rest of her life as payment for bearing an heir. There is no such thing as them taking interest in each other. Amalia only wishes Henrick would stop poking his nose on the things not concerning the contract and just visit the chamber he so wishes she would use, at least once.
"Amalia, I—why won't you let me take care of you?" He asks after a moment. Amalia blinks before looking back at him. What does he mean?
"The protection you provide is enough, Your Grace," she replies with a curt smile. "Now let's not forget our contract and just focus on what really matters."
Henrick suddenly stands. He walks to her, his strides are slow but long and are making Amalia cautious. Soon, Henrick is already in front of her. She takes a step back so they can still have this comfortable distance between them, but Henrick doesn't stop, as if he is guiding Amalia's steps until she reaches the wall. He pins Amalia with his body, and Amalia could feel his every curve and the hand that mildly touches her hair. She knows she should do something, but her body and her mind are frozen, and her breathing shallow.
"Focus on what matters, you say," Henrick whispers against her ear. She shudders. "Do you really want it so bad, wife?"
"I—" she tries to form words, but her mind remains blank. Gulping, she tries to open her eyes and looks down, expecting a knife to be drawn, but there was nothing. Still, the patient man she usually sees is not there when she looks into his eyes, so she knows this might be her end.
Henrick doesn't stop staring at her lips. Amalia tries to bite her lip, but the duke only parts her lips once more. "Tell me. Do you really want this?"
Amalia wants to tell him to just get it over with. Maybe it is lost in translation, or maybe Henrick just saw through Amalia, but he inches away from her and spouts his apologies. Amalia, still couldn't find her words, just nods and almost trips herself out of the room.
It is as if she almost drowned when she reached her room. Her lungs ache when she breathes, her eyes pooling with tears, and only Jane manages to calm her and take her to bath.
When her thoughts are back to normal and her breathing steady, Amalia reassesses her situation.
She couldn't deny that the duke has no intention to kill her, at least for now. She was sure Henrick was enraged back there and somehow it must be because of Amalia reminding him of the contract, but she doesn't know why he was mad, or why he stopped and apologized.
There are so many things Amalia is naïve of, including men. She lived her whole life with her father and Alexei, but still couldn't figure out what they were thinking sometimes. And so is the duke. It is as if he doesn't care much about things, but his actions keep betraying him. And the feeling of his hand… well, it is kind of unexpected too.
She thought his touch would feel cold and disgusting, but she has to admit that the duke's touches are not bad at all. His hands may be rough, but the touches they make are always soft and warm, without any hint of force nor hatred.
And she feels hot and very bothered by it. She wonders now if the duke feels the same. His words still sting, and all hope of that little fondness he may be feeling for her is nothing but an illusion, but Amalia is still grateful for the little kindness he has given her today.
When her mind settles, she gets out of the bath and gets dressed. Jane must have retired to her chambers because she is nowhere to be seen. She now knows that the duke would not visit her, so she doesn't make any effort and wears the most comfortable nightdress that she has.
A knock comes when her hair is dry and she is about to lie down. She is sure that it is Jane, as she would be the only one knocking at this hour, so she prepared her speech on how she will spend the day tomorrow. She then gets off her bed and calls her maid's name before opening the door.
Only, it wasn't Jane.
With her eyes wide, Amalia slams the door before the duke could speak and runs to the other side of the room to grab her robes. She makes sure it is secure around her and that she doesn't look too much of a mess before she opens the door once more.
"You Grace," she greets. Henrick only stares back. She already is used to this treatment—what happened in his study a while ago was the most expressive thing that he will ever show her, she is sure—so she lets it go. "Is there something you need?"
"Nothing. I just felt the need to apologize once more," he says. There is sincerity in his voice, although his eyes don't waver. "And I want to make sure that you feel fine."
"I feel better now, thank you. Also, you don't have to apologize, Your Grace. We can just… forget what happened earlier."
Amalia feels like he has more to say, but before she could ask, Henrick nods. "Of course," he says with a small smile. It seems fake, but it is still the first smile Amalia has seen the duke did. She stares in awe, only nods and murmurs her agreement when the duke asks her a question. The real smile comes after—she didn't know the duke could be this handsome.
Well, Henrick is handsome even when he is constantly frowning, but he looks better with a small smile. The real one is the best; the smile lightens his eyes, as if it is dawn once more, and Amalia can look at them for the rest of the day.
"Then, I shall see you tomorrow," she hears him say. She only nods. "Good night, my lady."
"Good night," she manages to reply before she closes the door.