The thought of continuing like this, pretending that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't, made his chest tighten. The latter option seemed awfully scary. There were many ways it could go.
"You do know that the more you put this off, the more she holds on to the notion that Grove is the man she should have married, right? Not you."
Andrew's jaw tightened, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur around him as Solomon's words began to settle into his imagination. A fire that burned hot and sharp, igniting a possessiveness he hadn't fully understood until now.
He stood abruptly, the chair scraping violently against the floor as his fingers clenched into fists at his sides. "I should go."
"Go? We're not done discussing the land dispute. I need your input," Solomon revealed.
"I need air," he said. "I'll be back tomorrow."
"Wait," Solomon said and rose to his feet. He took a moment to assess Andrew's face before slowly, a smirk crossed his lips. "This isn't just about air, is it?" he asked, his tone laced with knowing.
Andrew's eyes flicked back to Solomon, narrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"
Solomon's smirk deepened as he leaned against the desk. "You're not running from the land dispute, Andrew. You're running from something else."
"I don't have time —"
"You're jealous, aren't you?"
Andrew shot him a sharp look. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I have known you for years and I have never seen anything trouble you like this," Solomon pressed on. "You have always been blunt, you don't sugarcoat anything, and yet...here you are, finding it difficult to tell your wife the truth. The moment I mentioned how she might feel about another man, you got red with rage."
Andrew opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He stood there for a moment, tension radiating from him, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more. Instead, he simply shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the thoughts that plagued him.
"Enough," he muttered, straightening his posture. "I'll see you tomorrow, Solomon."
Without waiting for a reply, Andrew turned and strode out of the room, leaving Solomon with that annoying smirk on his face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Your Grace, do we really need that much wainscoting?" Paulina asked, her voice cautious but laced with concern.
Lavinia barely glanced up from the plans she was reviewing. "Yes, we do. The rooms need a sense of grandeur, Paulina."
"But they are barely used, Your Grace, if you will permit me to say," Paulina chipped in. "His Grace rarely has visitors who stay over, so the rooms might be left abandoned after the renovations."
"We'll do it either way."
"But Your Grace," Paulina hesitated, clearly skeptical. "You have already spent a considerable amount on the renovations, and more purchases might?—"
"More purchases are necessary," Lavinia interrupted, her tone firm. "The guest areas should feel as though they belong to thedukedom. The wainscoting will give the rooms the elegance they deserve."
It wasn't working.
Lavinia had thrown herself into the renovations of the estate for weeks now. She spent her mornings picking out fabrics for new curtains, selecting the most lavish wallpaper, and commissioning sculptors and landscapers to breathe new life into the grounds. It was a way to fill the silence, to make herself visible in a place that felt too big for her.
More importantly, she had made extravagant purchases—ornate furniture, expensive chandeliers, rare flowers for the garden. All in hopes that Andrew would react. Throw a fit, perhaps. Her father always had, whenever she’d made such excessive buys. His sharp words and disapproval would cut through the air like a knife, reminding them of their limits.
But Andrew...he didn't care.
Every item she purchased for the estate was met with indifference, no matter how ridiculous the purchase was. She didn't know what she expected from Andrew, but she had hoped for something, even a glimmer of acknowledgment. Yet every day he remained aloof, sequestered in his study or out attending to business matters, and not once did he ask about the changes she was making.
It didn't make sense. How could he not be affected by such lavish spending?
Lavinia was determined to provoke a response from him, any kind of response. She was tired of the silence between them, of his indifference. She had tried to find other subtle ways to get a reaction from him, one that was similar to the frustration he had thrown into her life, but nothing had worked.
