Ch#46
Alexander worked as a consultant for the steel company alongside his father, Kylyus. While it was common for nobles to provide their younger siblings with modest positions and living expenses, the Kylyus father and son were both too proud and too capable to simply take money for doing nothing.
Jared felt fortunate that his uncle and cousin made actual contributions to the company. In his cousin’s case, Jared might have been even closer to him if not for Alexander’s notorious reputation as a womanizer, which was well-known to anyone who mattered.
‘Will you hand the Duchess over to me when the next song plays?’
Jared didn’t want to believe he had done something so ridiculous just because of those words. It was more plausible that he had simply been too immersed in his role. Kissing her face had certainly been impulsive, but it had been the perfect way to leave a lasting impression on everyone.
Countless eyes in the ballroom had been watching him, and at least four reporters and two cameras had been focused on them. People who loved to gossip would surely spread what they had seen with great pride.
Do you know what I saw that day? The Duke is absolutely mad for his wife.
‘Since the news broke that yours was a love match, there is immense interest in the wedding. If you utilize this actively, it will provide indirect promotional help for your businesses.’
He had intended to be faithful to his role. The Duke in love, the tender husband, the perfect couple. That was exactly what people wanted.
Romance. Jared knew the public was obsessed with it.
‘If you leverage your relationship well, you should be able to maintain consistent public interest.’
The foundation of business is exchange. If he offered them romance, the public would offer him their support, and they would view his businesses and political moves with a favorable eye. Jared needed the support of the people now more than ever. It was a dire necessity.
That was the only reason. The only reason he had played the part of the overly affectionate husband.
“What kind of person is Mr. Alexander Glenn?”
At Rosalyn’s question, Jared turned around with a glass in his hand. He had just closed the liquor cabinet.
“What did he seem like to you?”
“He seemed pleasant. Friendly, too.”
“And his face is quite polite as well, isn’t it?”
As he added the joke, Rosalyn gave a small smile. Watching the woman who didn’t offer a rebuttal, he leaned back and brought the glass to his lips. A sip of whiskey sent a wave of heat down his tongue and throat.
“Men who are close enough to the line of succession are bound to feel frustrated. That is why my father strictly disciplined his brothers in the art of fraternal harmony. The sons of a Duke are educated from a young age not to covet the eldest brother’s portion.”
To maintain the tradition of brotherhood, the heads of the family passed down their own secret methods. They instilled respect for the eldest in the younger sons and a sense of duty to care for his younger brothers in the heir. it was an effort to prevent future discord.
“Alexander is the man who would unconditionally inherit the dukedom if something happened to me, but as he is my cousin, there were few opportunities for us to build a bond.”
Having said that much, Jared leaned his back lightly against the wall. The whiskey after a bath made his body feel heavy and relaxed. Taking another swallow, he looked at the woman on the bed.
Rosalyn sat with the lower half of her body tucked under the covers. Like a well-bred lady, she always read in bed; even now, a thick, leather-bound volume lay atop the duvet. The title looked familiar—she must have brought it from the second-floor study. It was a philosophy book so dull he hadn’t even finished half of it.
“You did well today. You can continue to treat him that way in the future. I think that’s all you need to know about Alexander.”
Rosalyn always conducted herself with dignity in public. She never overstepped or acted conceited. She wasn’t clumsy and knew how to hold a proper conversation.
But her finest quality was knowing when to keep her mouth shut.
“Yes.”
Rosalyn nodded.
Jared trusted people who were tight-lipped. Such people did not speak easily, nor did they ask reckless questions.
“Good.”
He nodded in return before changing the subject.
“If you’re tired, would you like to sleep first? You worked hard today.”
“No, I’m fine.”
Rosalyn shook her head without hesitation. Her face, looking up at him, was so innocent that Jared felt a momentary sense of dissonance.
The woman, her face clear and free of makeup, spoke again.
“It’s Tuesday.”
He stared back at her in silence. There was no sign of fear in the gray eyes watching him. Nor was there a look of anticipation. It was a face so pure it was almost naive, as if missing a scheduled task was simply out of the question. It gave him a strange sense of frustration.
“Right.”
Jared nodded slowly. The aftertaste of the whiskey in his mouth was bitter.
“It is Tuesday.”
After draining the rest of his drink in one gulp, he set the empty glass down on the nightstand with a sharp clack.
The sound was surely humiliating. He had intended for it to sound that way. He set the glass down with deliberate force so it would sound like a bell signaling the start of work, or a flare signaling the start of a horse race. The sound made him feel wretched every time, but he hoped the woman felt an equal measure of humiliation.
But Rosalyn didn’t seem affected at all. Instead, she used that clack as a literal signal to start moving. She moved the book from her lap to the nightstand, lay down in bed, pulled the covers up to her shoulders, and lowered her eyes to wait for him. She was utterly calm and serious.
What on earth was that woman thinking?
Jared was curious. What did she think about while she slept with him? Did she endure it solely with the single-minded goal of conceiving a child? Was she lying there like a sacrificial offering out of a sense of duty for her own safety and the prosperity of her family?
And was he, the one descending upon the sacrifice, a monster?
Sudden, stray thoughts rushed in, making Jared close and open his eyes.
His mind was muddled because of the alcohol. Because he was tired. Because he was tired and had finished the whiskey too quickly. Blaming the drink, Jared walked around his side of the bed toward the woman.
His sacrifice always lay there straight and still, waiting for him. Exactly as she had been taught on their wedding night.
Rosalyn wasn’t the only one who used the first night as a standard. Jared also moved with the same sequence and attitude as he had then. He lowered the intensity of the gas lamp, sat on the edge of her side of the bed, pulled back the duvet, and scanned the woman lying there with her hands folded neatly over her lower belly. The only thing that had changed was her attire.
Rosalyn never again wore the provocative silk nightgown she had worn on their wedding night. Thus, what Jared saw now was a plain chemise. A white cotton chemise decorated with a few frills. Letting his gaze pass over the garment that barely revealed her figure, he fixed his eyes on her face, which was as still as a doll’s with eyes closed.
She was a beautiful woman. A woman who would look attractive to anyone. So, it was only natural to want to touch her. Anyone would feel that way looking at those long eyelashes, smooth cheeks, and appropriately full lips.
Jared did nothing unnecessary in this relationship. Eyelashes, cheeks, and hair were not areas that aroused a woman, so there was no need to touch them. Rosalyn had a sensitive body, but she hadn’t learned the honesty of enjoying sensation. She didn’t know how to arouse a man to gain greater satisfaction. For Jared, that was a relief.
He didn’t want to be more invested in this relationship than necessary. He wanted neither pleasure nor connection. Since it was an unavoidable task, he simply wanted to get it over with quickly.
As he was thinking that, Rosalyn opened her eyes.
Despite the dimmed lights, the room was bright. Her long lashes, gray pupils, and the faint bluish tint of her whites were clearly visible. The woman looked at him with questioning eyes, and under that gaze, Jared froze as if pierced through.
In the silence, the two stared at each other. In that moment, he almost kissed her. He almost grabbed her chin and swallowed her lips as if to crush them. Then he almost pressed his lips frantically all over her body—her cheeks, her neck, past her shoulders to her chest.
The momentary impulse was so strong it felt like a physical blow to the head. Jared had to be the first to look away.
Swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, he reached out. When he gripped her breast through the chemise, Rosalyn closed her eyes. Feeling her body stiffen and her breathing grow faint with tension, he began to struggle to maintain his usual procedure.
He tried to do nothing unnecessary. He suppressed the urge to press his mouth against her soft skin. He suppressed the desire to make the woman, who was whimpering softly, let out a louder sound. He suppressed the urge to hold her while moving deeper, faster, and harder. He mocked himself for wanting more from this woman, for trying to want something beyond this.
In the end, he was trying to convince himself. He was deceiving himself to make this relationship something more human, less cruel, and less shameful. That was why he resisted the attraction and impulse toward the woman. Because he was human.
And if one is human, one must know how to distinguish between lust and emotion.
