The wedding had been a long and exhausting affair. By the time the Duke and his new Duchess returned to their private residence, the sun had long since set, and the moon was a high, bright circle in the night sky.
As they stepped inside, Eric's took off his formal coat. Delia, her body aching from standing for hours in the heavy gown, was preparing to leave for the solitude of her own room. The wedding was over; now she just wanted to be alone.
But Eric stopped her, his voice soft in the quiet hall. "Should we have a drink to celebrate?" he asked.
Delia turned to him. She saw the hope in his eyes, the desire to mark this moment as something special, something real. But she was too tired, too emotionally drained to continue the act of happiness. "No," she replied, her own voice gentle but firm. "I'm not in the mood. I didn't sleep well last night, so I am very tired."
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "It's fine," he said.
