Page 14 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
No need to make it worse.
This was not unnecessary compassion. It would suit him better if she was reconciled to her new place in life before he took advantage of his conjugal rights. She would be more pliable then. More malleable.
His decision had nothing to do with the unnerving way he wanted her, against all reason and all odds. Nothing to do with the fact that he could not allow himself any distractions from his cause. One way or the other, he was going to get to the bottom of William’s death, and the presence of a wife was not going to interfere with that.
* * *
Emmeline woke up. She lay for a few moments, ruminating on her situation, before ringing for her maid. Instead of having breakfast in bed, she chose to rise unfashionably early, dressing and descending to the breakfast room.
And there, to her surprise, was the Duke. She had not seen him since he had left her in the carriage, and seeing him here now was enough of a surprise that she stopped short in the doorway, staring at him.
He lowered his newspaper and glared at her with a combination of shock and annoyance.
“Your Grace,” she said, curtsying.
“This is remarkably early for you to be breakfasting,” he said in a tone of dismay.
“I am sorry, My Lord Duke. Had you expected me to lie in bed in a decline instead of getting on with my day?”
Flicking out his newspaper, he looked away from her, but he thought she heard him mutter, “Would that you had.”
Undeterred, Emmeline sat in the chair opposite his and examined the food laid out. Scones, toast, eggs, fruit. A plain breakfast, but perfectly serviceable. Perhaps they did not have a very skilled cook.
The Duke lowered his newspaper again, glaring at her. “In the future, you may order breakfast in your room.”
“Of course, I may,” she said, selecting a piece of toast and putting it on her plate. In the mornings, she tended to prefer a heartier breakfast, but she would make do. “But I prefer to get up and about. There is so much to be done and so few hours of the day. Do you not agree?”
Scowling, he disappeared behind his newspaper again. “I cannot imagine what you presume to be occupying yourself with.”
“Well, Mrs. Pentwhistle was so obliging as to give me a tour, and I could not help noticing the furniture was shockingly outdated.” She gave him a bright smile in the hopes he would detest it. “I thought I would have it replaced.”
In reality, she was going to have it reupholstered, and in a similar style because she liked the old house as it was, but she had no intention of saying that to the Duke.
“Do not,” he said shortly.
“Why not?”
“Because I have requested it.”
“Commanded it, more like.”
He lowered his newspaper as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Very well. I have commanded it. You are not to replace anything in this house.”
“How am I to do my duty as the Duchess, then?”
“You may read. The library is well-stocked.”
“It may surprise you to learn I have other hobbies.”
“Arguing?” he asked sardonically, folding up his newspaper. “There is a pianoforte in the drawing room. You may play that.”
“Is that all you think young ladies do?” she demanded, folding her arms. “You think they merely lounge around, reading and playing the pianoforte?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why, do you sing?”
“Very badly. Perhaps I ought to serenade you one night, My Lord Duke?”
“Perhaps not.” Picking up his coffee cup, he left the room with his newspaper under his arm, leaving Emmeline staring after him in a high temper.
