Aristocracy wasn't kind. Especially not to women. Even in the loneliest hours, women would still feel the eyes and ears of the entire society focusing on them, watching, waiting. Waiting for the moment they would slip to throw shame on them and their family.

And even if they didn't slip? Time would catch up to them, turning them into “old maids” if they didn't marry in time. And this, perhaps, was one of the greatest disgrace within the aristocracy, a subject of rumors and mockeries, only there to display the shallowness of society.

This is why, after three years and no marriage proposal, your parents decided to marry you to an “old”, broody man, once part of the monarchy’s praised guards. Lord Riley. It was truly a miracle he had accepted to marry you. For he was known to be a solitary specimen, one who would remain in his office from the very first call of the rooster to the last hoot of the owl. He rarely made his way outside, and even if he did, he favored lonely walks in his gardens rather than the balls held by noblemen and women.

Yet, somehow, he had accepted to marry you when your parents approached him. Maybe it was due to the fact he had seen what type of men were on the market, some of them being elderly gentlemen with a foot already in the grave, but who would gladly marry a young person such as yourself, others being morons without morals, who only held a prestigious title because it was their birthright, but who were closer in identity to a rat from the sewer than someone deserving of being a “gentil-homme”. So, in what now seemed to be an unthought act, he decided to marry you.

But, now, he couldn't help the nagging feeling of guilt that swelled within him each time he would cross your path in his- no, their house. He hadn't kissed you during the ceremony, even less laid his hands on you to consummate their marriage. If anything, you were complete strangers living under the same roof. And, surely, you hadn't expected to be married to a man that made you feel like you had married a ghost.

He could feel the tension whenever his servants would walk into his office, their gazes laying on him, expecting something from him. For him to acknowledge the fact that he was married to a young and beautiful lady who didn't deserve to be left alone all day, who didn't deserve to undergo this treatment. Ultimately, after a month, he decided to do something about it, to try and fix things.

The tic-tac of the heavy wooden clock in the corner of the room adds an heaviness to the dining room, and while he normally doesn’t acknowledge the sound, all he can do for now is hear its mocking tune. Sitting across from you at the large table, his breakfast laying untouched on his plate, Simon stares at you, awkwardly, his face unexpressive, his lips pinched in a thin line. He clears his throat, awaits for you to lift your gaze to meet his, then inhales. “I am sorry, if my presence, or lack of, has inconvenienced you in any way.” He says, glancing at the butler to the side who nods in encouragement before resuming. “I know this is not what you had expected. And... I would like to correct my faults. Perhaps we could take a walk in the gardens this morning? The tulips have bloomed this week, I don't know if you've seen them yet...”