Page 46 of His Duchess' Mischief

What is the matter with this man? He gardens, he makes friends with the birds, and he does not care what his wife looks like at dinner.

The final thought sent a rush of unease through her.

Perhaps that was it. He simply did not care. The Duke had been honest about his reasons for marrying her—she was only sitting here because of his father’s will.

That was not a pleasant thought.

She sat down on the polished wooden chair, the large candelabras set in the center of the table hiding her husband from view.

Alicia leaned to the right in order to look at him, taking in his blue coat and the smart cravat around his neck. Nothing of the relaxed man in the gardens could be seen in him now, and his eyes hardened the closer she leaned towards him as he motioned to the footmen to serve their meal.

The clock chimed above the fireplace, and Alicia cursed herself inwardly, remembering that she had intended to arrive late to vex him, but instead was right on time.

A soup was served first, and she lost herself in the gentle taste of the bright green mixture, wondering what it might be. It was the best soup she had ever had.

As the meal progressed, the silence stretched like a chasm between them. Alicia grew more irritated as she repeatedly glanced up at her husband but was unable to see his expression through the flickering candles.

“Could you move the candles to the side of the table, please?” she asked one of the footmen who came to fill her wine glass.

He looked to the Duke for permission, and her anger increased when her husband gave a short nod.

So it is only the Duke who can command his staff? Is that it?

The candles were moved, and finally, she could look him in the eye.

She was rather proud that it would give him a full view of the ridiculous feather, which was growing heavier by the second.

“I see you have dressed to match the room. How sensible,” the Duke remarked, before taking a mouthful of soup.

His dark gaze rested on her as she fought the flush that threatened to suffuse her cheeks.

She glanced down at the sash that hung across her shoulders. He was right—it was exactly the same shade as the walls.

Alicia hid a smile. Not the smug smile of approaching victory, but a genuine response to the teasing glint in his eyes.

She hadn’t meant to smile at him.

The Duke was full of surprises. When she had first met him, he had barely shown any emotion, not even during their wedding. Yet, now, on his lands, in his dining room, there was a playful flicker in his eyes that she was beginning to like more and more.

Shifting in her seat, she scolded herself, imagining that Katie and Bridget had joined them on either side of the long table.

What would they tell me to do?

Bore him. That was what they had suggested.

She considered what topic to choose, and a slow smile spread across her face as she hit upon it.

“Do you know my friend, Katie Hill? She is the daughter of the Baron Northwell.”

Seth buttered the roll on his side plate, glancing at her as his knife flashed in the candlelight.

“I knowofher. She is a friend of yours, is she not? I am not well acquainted with her or her father, but the Baron frequents my club whenever he is in town.”

“I have known her for some time. She is currently choosing a dress for the Heartlands’ ball, and is in quite a lather about the most appropriate color.”

This will work. The Duke will definitely not wish to discuss fashion.

He waved his roll in the air before taking a neat bite of it. His manners were impeccable. She waited patiently for his eyes to glaze over.

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