Page 19 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
Irritation flashed in his eyes. The last time they had spoken was when they had kissed, and he well knew it.
“Why, wife?” he asked, his voice clipped. “Have you changed your mind and you would welcome my advances, after all?”
“I am a little preoccupied at present.” She pounded away at the keys. “But you are welcome to join me and listen.”
He gave her a look that could only be classified as disgust. “Forgive me for saying I would not endure that caterwauling if you paid me.”
“How ungenerous of you,” she said, not pausing her playing. She had to practically shout to be heard.
He scowled and, without another word, stalked away.
* * *
Adam seriously considered having the pianoforte moved to an obscure parlor that only opened once or twice a year—one that was far, far away from the east wing. He doubted her playing was truly that awful; no one with any level of musical education could be so persistently flat.
No, he knew fine well why she was doing it—to revolt against him.
So, even though he could not escape the dreadful sound no matter how many doors he put between him and his wife, he made no move to hinder her playing. He had hoped it would stop, but three days passed with hours of vigorous ‘practice,’ and he was on the verge of tearing his hair out when it stopped.
Blessed peace assailed him. Finally, he was free to think about the defiant gleam in her hazel eyes as she regarded him and the stubborn tilt of her chin.
No, those were not the things he was supposed to be thinking about.
He gritted his teeth and returned to his work.
Sometime later, at once relieved and suspicious that the playing had been cut so short, he ventured out of the east wing. He was not entirely sure what possessed him to do so, except for the fact that he did not put hideous destruction past her.
It was clear she was going to have her revenge.
Although thus far, despite her threats, she had made no significant changes to the house, he could not rely on that continuing.
Yes, that was why he left the east wing and prowled silently through the house, peering into the room to see if the pesky woman was there. The sole reason. There was no part of him—none whatsoever—that wanted to see the way challenge flashed across her face whenever she saw him, as though their battles were a source of great satisfaction. He, after all, found no pleasure in pitting his wits against hers and seeing who came off the better for it.
None at all.
Finally, he found her in the front hall, a suspicious bundle in her arms. He zeroed in on it immediately.
“What do you have there?”
“Nothing of consequence,” she said quickly. Too quickly.
“Then you will have no objection to letting me see it.”
“It is nothing that concerns you,” she insisted, a mulish light sparking in her eyes. “Am I to have no privacy here?”
“This is my house,” he said coolly.
“And you have brought me here against my will.”
“How odd,” he said, the familiar spark of challenge entering his chest. “I distinctly recall you offering your services as my wife. You volunteered, in fact. Unless I am mistaken?”
She scowled, and the victory tasted sweet indeed. “I would not have had to if you were not so overbearing.”
“You know my reasons.”
And yes, perhaps hehadbeen a little overbearing about it, but that had been another necessity. He would not let his brother or the legacy of his title down to save some woman’s feelings.
The bundle in Emmeline’s arms squirmed, and she held it more tightly against her chest.
