“The Carridan copper mines. Felix mentioned you were selling them.”
“Felix talks too much.”
“Felix is one of the few people who actually speaks to me.” She set down her spoon. “So, tell me. Why sell something that’s been in your family for generations?”
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, he shrugged. The gesture made him seem oddly vulnerable.
“They’re not profitable. Haven’t been for years.”
“And profit matters more than legacy?”
“Legacy doesn’t pay off debts.”
“Your father’s debts.”
His expression shuttered. “The estate’s debts. How they were incurred is irrelevant.”
“Is it?” She leaned forward slightly. “You’re dismantling your heritage piece by piece. That must mean something to you.”
“It means I’m practical.”
“Or that you’re punishing him.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on his spoon.
“My father is beyond punishment,” he said flatly.
“But his memory isn’t. Every piece you sell, every tradition you break, it’s like erasing him from your family’s history.”
“You know nothing about it,” he hissed as his eyes narrowed.
“Because you won’t tell me anything!” The frustration burst out of her. “A year, Your Grace. I’ve been your wife for over a year, and I know less about you than I do about our butler.”
He returned to his soup calmly, which made her grip her spoon tighter.
“You do not need to know much about me, wife. Marriage without affection is survivable,” he said in an even tone. “Marriage with it becomes a war.”
Iris blinked. What could have happened to this man to make him so cold? So unfeeling?
She recalled how reluctant and unforgiving the housekeeper had been when the Duke’s parents were mentioned.
What had they done to make him like this?
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Look at any couple who married for love. Give them five years. Ten. Watch the passion curdle into resentment as the tender words become weapons.”
“My parents tolerated each other well enough.”
“Did they?”
Iris flinched; the casualness of his retort stung more than it should have. Because if she were being honest, she wasn’t sure. Her mother had been so focused on appearances and securing the perfect heir. Her father had been distant and cold. He was a man who viewed his family as possessions rather than people.
“Grace and Harrison love each other,” she continued, nonetheless. “They’re happy.”
“For now.”
“You’re wrong.” She pushed her soup bowl away because her appetite was suddenly gone. “Just because you believe that doesn’t make it the truth.”
