Page 40 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
She felt like she was washed of this whole ordeal with her late husband at last. With each swipe, the week sluiced off of her.
“Pardon my directness, Your Grace, but I did not think His Grace would ever take a wife,” Emily said, almost absent-mindedly, as she washed Madeleine’s hair.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. He is… well, he is very private, you see. He’s strict at times. Very private.”
“What about?”
“Mostly his business affairs,” Emily told her. “But he barely speaks. Whenever Mrs. Turner or Mr. Fletcher need to ask anything, he’s brief with his answers. He does not linger. I knowthe master, but in another sense, I do not know him at all.” Her face flushed. “If that is not nonsensical.”
Madeleine hummed. “I see.”
“The staff whisper about him. He is kind, the people of Silverton say. I have heard Mrs. Turner say he can be very sacrificial for others’ benefit.”
Madeleine swallowed, her stomach tightening. “And do you… do you think he did not wish to marry or he had not met anyone worthy?”
Something in her gnawed unpleasantly at the thought of Alexander marrying her against his will—of their marriage simply being a sacrifice, and now she would become a burden to him.
Something unsettled her about that. She refused to be a burden.
“I don’t wish to speculate, Your Grace,” Emily said quietly, glancing at the doorway.
“You must tell me if there is anything of import to be known,” Madeleine told her, eyeing her lady’s maid sternly. “I do not like secrets.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Emily could not help but have loyalty to Alexander as a natural line of employment but Madeleine could sway a little loyalty for herself. Smiling to herself, Madeleine finished her bath before dressing for dinner.
“I am told you ordered the dinner specifically tonight,” Madeleine said, her voice light and teasing, as she took her seat opposite Alexander in the dining hall.
Candles were lit around them, casting them in a warm glow. In this light, Alexander’s dark gaze on her was even more intense as he looked her over.
“I did,” he said, taking a sip of his wine as he gestured for a servant to fill Madeleine’s glass with a fruity wine. “Venison seasoned with juniper, yes? That is your preference, if I am not mistaken.”
He sat back in his seat, simply watching her with a smug brow raised.
“You… you are not mistaken.”
“And for the wine,” he began, beckoning her to sip. She did, closing her eyes briefly. “Something that will dance over your tongue.”
There was something about the way he drank at the same time as she did that had heat curling through her stomach. She set her glass down, finding his gaze already waiting for her.
Madeleine steadied herself.
My husband died less than a week ago.
“You know, I have always thought the dinner table is a perfect place for discovery,” Alexander told her, his word slow and calculated. “It is a chance to learn of one’s true nature. What does your taste in food say about you, I wonder?”
The candlelight flickered, sharpening the planes of his face, and her mouth was positively dry. As soon as he asked, Madeleine was served her dinner: venison seasoned with juniper, as the Duke had suggested.
She was not used to so much attention like Alexander was giving her, and she busied herself staring at her plate for a few moments more.
“It does not say much, I imagine,” she finally responded.
Alexander leaned forward, his elbow propped on the arm of his dining chair, utterly casual and relaxed.
“Oh, I would not be so sure, Duchess. I have always believed that a woman’s choices—no matter how small—speak volumes about her. Do you not agree? For example, returning to your choice ofwine. You could prefer a richer wine, but you do not. Is that your way of showing restraint?”
