“Your Grace, we –”
“I do not pay you to stand around and gossip. If you wish to spend your time pointlessly chattering, feel free to do it on the street and not on my dime.”
They all hung their heads apologetically, and one of them glanced at Silas for a moment and instantly dropped her gaze, stammering quickly.
“W-We’re sorry, Your Grace. It won’t happen a-again.”
Silas snorted, slightly startled when a voice spoke up from behind him.
“That’s fine, girls. Get back to work.”
The girls nodded and shifted their attention back to the painting frames and vases they’d been dusting, working dutifully as though to atone for their sins. Simon continued his walk to his dressing room, aware that he was being followed, but stayed silent in order to allow the other person to speak first.
“Your Grace, that was not very nice,” she sighed as he reached the door to his dressing room. “They are young girls – it is their nature to gossip and speak mindlessly, but they do not mean any harm. You did not need to threaten them like that. Your grandfather would be disappointed if he saw how rudely you behaved to the members of your staff. It would dishearten him greatly because he always believed that the household was meant to serve as an extension of family –”
“You forget yourself, Mrs. Safield,” he cut her off. “Your role here is to serve as the housekeeper, not to question or make judgments about how I oversee my dukedom.”
She smiled up at him sadly and said, “Your Grace, I do not intend to speak out of turn. I simply wish to keep you from making mistakes you might later regret. Everyone – the members of staff are afraid of you. You turn into a corridor, and they all scramble to hide. At this rate, it would be difficult for you to have any loyal personnel – not if you continue to let your bad temper rule over you.”
Silas opened the door to his dressing room and stepped inside, turning to address Marion with an air of finality.
“That is not your concern. Leave my role to me and do your own job properly.”
Her lips parted to respond, but she did not get a chance to do so as he shut the door in her face. He did not care for whatever beads of wisdom the old crone wished to sow because it was up to him how he wished to rule over his home.
He made quick work of his clothes, easily changing into his riding attire, and then headed out to the stable. The stable boy greeted him eagerly at the doors, announcing with enthusiasm he did not expect,
“Your Grace, Scar has been prepared for your riding session.”
Over his shoulder, Silas could see his horse already saddled and lightly stepping about, clearly eager to stretch his legs, his tail whipping about as he moved. Silas had not expected the young boy to do that, usually preferring to handle the task of saddling his horse himself, but he appreciated the boy’s efforts.
“You can retire for the day, Simon. Go and have some food, and I will handle Scar for the rest of the evening,” Silas instructed as he walked towards Scar.
The horse huffed as he stroked his nose, receiving the pats and shuffling closer as Silas took the reins and led him to the entrance of the stable. Simon still stood where Silas had left him, his eyes alight with uncertainty.
“I do not mind waiting for you to return, Your Grace. It is –”
“Do as I say, Simon,” Silas ordered sternly as he mounted his horse, his grip on the reins tightened to keep Scar from running off before he had settled on the creature’s back properly. “Go and eat, and I will handle my horse for the rest of the evening.”
Simon relented, bowing and leaving his side quickly. Silas watched him leave with an exhale and squeezed his legs against Scar’s sides, urging him forward, out of and away from the stable, leading him away from the mansion and towards the vast fields that surrounded it.
His mind wandered back to Simon as he rode farther away from his mansion. He recalled that it had been a day just like this one when he had met the poor child while he was out riding. The boy had lost his parents months earlier and had been roaming around, and Silas had felt an urge to adopt him that he could not ignore. So he returned home with the boy and asked his butler to care for him as best as he could.
Simon had not wanted to dwell in Silas’ home without giving back as much as he had received and volunteered to work as a stable boy. He had quickly proven himself to be reliable and hard-working, unlike the previous holder of his position, and it reassured Silas to no end, knowing that his precious horse was in good hands.
Silas eventually wished to increase his speed and urged Scar to move from trotting to cantering by leaning forward and applying more pressure to the horse’s sides with his legs. Years of riding Scar meant that they understood each other clearly – to the point that most times, Silas preferred the company of his horse to the people in his household – and the horse immediately picked up the pace.
The Duke relished the feeling of the wind against his face, already feeling his lingering concerns and stress melt away, leaving just him, his horse, and the vast greenery before his eyes. Riding was his favorite pastime, a skill he had cultivated carefully from when he was a boy and an activity he shared with his grandfather, whom he had treasured more than anyone or anything else.
But his grandfather had passed on, and Silas had been left behind with nothing but memories that stung his heart every time he recalled them, urging him even further to keep himself closed off at the possibility of forming any other personal relationship.
It had been a devastating thing to watch his grandfather die, to lose the very person who had raised him into the man he was,unable to do anything as he took his last breath. Sometimes, he still had nightmares about that night, his dream vividly recalling how badly he was shaking, how raw his throat had become from crying out for help, and the sticky feeling of blood all over his hands – both that of his own and his grandfather’s.
The loss had served as a lesson to Silas – people were inevitably going to leave him, one way or another. Much like his parents when he was all but ten years old, the ones he cared for would later vanish from his life, leaving him all by himself, hurt and alone. And so, he resolved to refrain from forming any emotional attachments to others. He had the option to avoid potential hurt and pain of that caliber, to shield himself from further devastation and chose to take it.
A lot of people had not liked that, calling him cold and soulless, but he had not cared because, at the end of the day, all he had left was himself, and he was going to do what was needed to ensure his well-being. He wanted for nothing with his successful job and properties. And once he got married, he would receive the rest of his inheritance, and everything would be as it should.
As he often did, Silas lost a little track of time while riding, but it could not have been more than twenty-five minutes since he had left the mansion when he felt a drop of water fall on his cheek. At first, he assumed it would be a mere drizzle, but then the heaviness of the rain quickly increased into a steady light shower, and he immediately slowed Scar down, cursing beneath his breath.