The Last Duchess

The clock struck nine and guests began to flow through the weathered wooden doors of our manor, hands full with neatly wrapped gifts. I was shocked and amazed at the amount of people who turned out to celebrate this special day, my 35th birthday. My husband greeted everyone at the door, and made sure to exude his arrogance by speaking of his nine-hundred-year old name, bronze sculpture, and making me show off the flawless diamond ring he purchased me for the occasion. As the night went on a pleasant smile stayed glued to my face. I made sure to saunter every inch of the house and thank those who so graciously gave me something, no matter the size or price of the present. I spent the next hour carousing and innocently dancing with the men who asked me to join them. Sitting still in the corner I noticed my Duke, with a rather disgusted look on his face, glaring at me as if I had just