Page 29 of His Duchess' Mischief

She waited for him to respond. Instead, he watched her, his dark eyes roaming over her face and hair.

There was something achingly intimate about that assessing gaze, as though he were looking into her soul and could tell that she was lying.

She had opened one book on birds in her life and had fallen asleep in the middle of the second chapter.

“Have you ever seen a buzzard?” he asked.

Alicia shook her head. “No. Well, they were pointed out to me from very far away, but that was when I was younger.”

“We have a family of them living across the river at the other side of the estate,” the Duke continued, sipping his coffee and looking out toward the water sparkling in the distance. “I shall take you there.”

It was not an offer, but more of a command.

Alicia found herself all the more irritated that a thrill ran through her at the sound of it. Apparently, she did not mind taking orders from her new husband.

How galling.

The Duke was as good as his word. Once Alicia had eaten her fill, he rose from his seat, waiting for her to join him.

She had expected that once he had finished eating, he would leave her alone as he had at the wedding breakfast, but it seemed that he really wished to spend some time with her today.

She worked quickly through one more slice of toast, eating more than she would ordinarily, the salt of the butter and sweetness of the marmalade a riot on her tongue.

Perhaps it was eating breakfast in the full sunshine or the calm and quiet of the place, but it was one of the most enjoyable meals she had ever had.

The thought was rather alarming.

I am supposed to be plotting my escape, not relishing the solitude.

The walk down to the river was equally pleasant.

The Duke was far more relaxed in private. He was still stoic and showed very little emotion, but the set of his shoulders was softer, his gait languid, almost lazy.

The grass beneath her shoes was wet, and she could feel it soaking the fine fabric of her gown.

“How long have you lived here, Your Grace?” she asked when the silence seemed to have stretched for far too long.

“Seth,” he said rather grumpily.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You do not refer to me asYour Grace,Duchess. My name is Seth. I am your husband, am I not?”

“So it would seem,” she said stiffly.

She almost fell over when his lips quirked up into a ghost of a smile.

Who is this man? Where is the austere Duke I met in my father’s house, informing me that our marriage would be one of convenience?

She kept walking beside him, his smile having lifted her spirits far more than she ever thought it could.

There was a small bridge that crossed the river. It had been made from long planks of wood that had been plaited together. Moss spread down the banks, and making them rather slippery, and the Duke offered her his hand as she climbed up to cross.

The water was crystal clear, minnows darting beneath the rippling surface. Alicia could have stood there for hours, staring at them happily. It was good to stand and allow nature to exist around her after the turmoil and upheaval of the past few weeks.

“There!”

She looked up to find the Duke—Seth—pointing to the sky, his huge bulk appearing smaller somehow, like a boy.

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