Ryan emerged from his study, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders. Cracking the case of the alphabetical murders had brought a sliver of relief, but the underlying tension remained. He needed some rest, a chance to clear his head before the next storm hit.
He shuffled down the hallway, his steps heavy with fatigue. As he rounded a corner, a flash of movement caught his eye. He glanced out the window and saw Suzy, a splash of vibrant color against the manicured green of the castle grounds.
She was strolling with Doris, their laughter echoing faintly through the corridor. But it was Suzy's attire that sent a jolt of irritation through him. She sported another one of those… unconventional dresses. This one, a color he couldn't quite describe, clung to her curves (her waist and hips) in a way that was both unnecessary and frankly, unbecoming of a Duchess.
"What in blazes is she wearing now?" he muttered under his breath, a frown creasing his forehead. Her disregard for proper etiquette was starting to grate on his nerves.
An idea, sharp and icy, sparked in his mind. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to remind the Duchess exactly who she was and who she was married to. A little reminder of the expectations that came with her title wouldn't hurt. After all, the sooner she learned to conform, the better.
He altered his course, heading towards the gardens instead of his chambers.
The crisp air of the afternoon carried the sweet scent of blooming roses as Suzy sits on a nearby chair, a serene smile gracing her lips. Lost in the peaceful beauty of her surroundings, she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until a deep, cold voice shattered the tranquility.
"Duchess Cassandra," Ryan's voice boomed, laced with a frosty disapproval.
Suzy turned, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of her husband. His presence here, in the usually peaceful haven of the gardens, cast a long shadow. Doris, sensing the tension, offered a polite smile.
"Your Grace," Suzy replied, forcing a cheerful tone. "Enjoying the afternoon?"
Ryan ignored her question, his gaze fixed on her dress. The way the sunlight glinted off the fabric, highlighting the subtle curve of her waist, seemed to fuel his irritation.
"Doris," Ryan said curtly, as he turned his gaze towards her, "I believe I require the Duchess's undivided attention for a moment."
Doris, who had been trailing behind Suzy with a basket of freshly picked flowers, cast a worried glance at them both before offering a small smile. "Of course, Your Grace," she said, her voice laced with concern. "I'll leave you two to it."
The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension. Suzy felt a prickle of annoyance crawl up her spine. Why does Ryan always manage to turn a pleasant afternoon into an interrogation?
"What is it, Ryan?" she finally asked, her voice clipped.
Ryan took a menacing step closer, towering over her. His hands gripped the armrests of the chair, his knuckles white with suppressed anger. They were inches apart, the air crackling with unspoken animosity.
"Can you at least act the part, Duchess," he said, his words dripping with disdain, "even if you despise me?"
Suzy's jaw clenched, her smile vanishing completely. "What part are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice tight with anger.
Ryan scoffed, the sound harsh and grating. "Didn't your family teach you the importance of grace, poise, and dignity? You are a Duchess now, not some commoner frolicking in the streets." He said, his voice low and menacing.
The accusation hung heavy in the air, a slap in the face that ignited a firestorm of emotions within Suzy. Here she was, trying to adapt to this strange new life, and all she got was criticism and disdain.
Ryan's gaze flicked down to her dress, lingering on the way it accentuated her curves, before finally meeting her eyes again. His voice, when he spoke, was laced with a coldness that sent shivers down her spine.
"You behave… not like a lady, let alone a Duchess."
Suzy's jaw clenched. This wasn't about the dress; it was about control. Ryan wanted to mold her into his perfect Duchess, a silent, obedient wife who conformed to his rigid expectations.
"If you're so unhappy with my behavior, Ryan," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "then perhaps you should divorce me. Find yourself a Duchess who fits your narrow definition of propriety."
Ryan's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected such defiance. For a moment, he was speechless, thrown off by her unexpected outburst.
"Divorce?" he finally echoed, his voice a low growl. "Do you have any idea what such a scandal would do? Do you think it's that simple? "
"I don't give two FUCKS about it." Suzy retaliated. "You're the one who seems concerned about appearances, Ryan. What truly bothers you is that I don't fit your mold. I don't cower, I don't wear suffocating gowns, and I don't shy away from speaking my mind."
Ryan's eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. 'What's with all this words that's coming out of those lips?'
He scoffed regaining his scowl. "We are bound by duty, by a contract. Did you forget? Your family sold you. You are the Duchess, whether you like it or not."
Suzy's chin trembled with suppressed rage. "Then perhaps," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "it's time to rewrite the rules of this contract. Because if this is what being a Duchess means, Ryan, then I don't want any part of it."
Ryan looked away, his jaw clenched. He wasn't used to this kind of confrontation, especially not from his wife. Neither of them was willing to back down, the silence could make a pin drop sound like a gunshot.
" You always find a way to ruin my day" she said as she broke the silence, removing his hands from the armrest.
With that, she stood up turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving Ryan standing alone in the garden. The sun continued to shine, the birds continued to sing, but a storm had brewed between them, a storm that threatened to engulf them both.