Chapter 24 - Twenty Four
Dinner that night was a suffocating affair. The air crackled with an unspoken tension so thick, Suzy could practically taste it. The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed in the vast dining hall, an indication of the uncomfortable silence between her and Ryan.
Each bite of food felt heavy in Suzy’s stomach, the delicious flavors drowned out by the bitterness of their earlier argument. She stole occasional glances at Ryan across the table, but his face remained an unreadable mask. His posture was ramrod straight, his eyes fixed on his plate as if the food held a deeper meaning than sustenance.
The only sounds that dared to pierce the tense silence were the hushed whispers of the servants flitting around the room, their eyes darting nervously between the two figures at the head of the table. Even the flickering candles seemed to cast an accusatory glow, highlighting the chasm that had opened between them.
Suzy began to pick at her food, her appetite completely gone. Each bite tasted like ashes in her mouth, a reflection of the bitter taste left by Ryan’s words. She took another glance at him, finding his face etched with an emotion that resembled... annoyance? Perhaps even a hint of... frustration?
The sight did little to soothe her simmering anger. "Pompous sissy," she muttered under her breath, the words a rebellion against the rigid formality of the dinner and everything it represented.
Finally, the agonizing meal came to an end. The servants cleared the table, their movements even more subdued than usual. As the last plate was removed, Ryan pushed back his chair with a sharp scrape against the floor, the sound making Suzy flinch.
"Duchess," he said, his voice cold and formal, "I require your presence in my study in thirty minutes."
Suzy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The formality of his request grated on her nerves. "What for?" she couldn’t help but ask, her voice barely a whisper.
Ryan didn’t grace her with a reply. Instead, he turned his gaze to Doris, who had lingered by the doorway, her face etched with worry.
"Doris," he instructed, his voice laced with an unspoken command, "please escort the Duchess to my study in half an hour."
Doris curtseyed, her eyes flitting between Suzy’s defiant expression and Ryan’s stony demeanor. "Of course, Your Grace," she replied, her voice barely audible.