Page 29 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“Enough.” He held up a hand. “Where is she?”
There was a growl in his voice as he looked at the trail of other workers that were bringing furnishings from the other levels of the house.
“The Duchess is in the parlor, Y-Your Grace,” he stammered. “It is where I have come from. She is speaking with a furniture maker.”
Henry stormed off before he had even finished his sentence. He walked up the stairs quickly, angrily eyeing each worker who had entered his home without his say-so, and he ignored the fear in their eyes as they hurried on.
And then he found her, her hands clasped in front of her, the picture of innocence. As if she was not dismantling his home and thinking she could take over.
An older man in spectacles nodded at what she was saying, and it was only when Henry stalked into the room that he heard her too.
“And, of course, the decor in here shall be completely redone,” she said. “So I am hoping the coverings for the furniture you make will match my color theme. It will be elegant and understated. Something far more suited to neoclassicism, do you not think?”
“An excellent choice, Your Grace.” The furniture maker bowed his head.
“Is it, now?” Henry’s voice was low, and both Veronica and the man turned to him. “I do not remember inviting you into my home.” His eyes cut to Veronica, emotionless. “And I do not remember agreeing to—this.”
The man bowed at the waist.
Henry ignored the furniture maker and kept his eyes on Veronica. Her face was pinched and startled, as if caught in an act she thought was wrong but didn’t realize why.
“Your Grace, this is Stefan Worthington. He is the best furniture maker in the Ton. I was recommended him by?—”
“I do not care.”
“Nevertheless, I have invited Mr. Worthington to work with me on updating Westley Manor, as you have had the time to do it yourself in your own design. After all, it was your uncle’s, was it not? You should have your own home.”
“Your Grace—” Mr. Worthington began, but Henry cut him off, still not lifting his gaze from the meddlesome woman he had brought into his home.
“Leave us,” he ordered quietly, and he knew Veronica heard the sharp edge to his deceptively low tone. “I wish to speak with the Duchess alone.”
Mr. Worthington rushed out with the sound of hurried footsteps, shutting the door behind him. Henry stared at the Duchess for a moment, letting the silence thicken with her anticipation.
She was the one to break first. Those not comfortable in silence always did.
“You did not have to be so rude, Your Grace!” she said. “He was merely answering my invitation. He does not deserve your ire.”
“So you accept that you do?” Henry asked her, his voice soft but containing all his anger.
He took a step towards her, and she took one back. Her eyes flickered around, as if to draw on being in public but they were not. This was his home; he did not have to think about proprietary here.
He took another step closer to her, but Veronica did not move back this time. Her eyes, wide and innocent, met his.
“You have no business making changes to my home,” he told her, his face close to hers. This close, he could see how bright her blue eyes were, the flicker of turquoise hues in them. “You have been here for all of three days, and you are already causing chaos.”
“It is my home now, too,” she answered softly. “Am I to live in the decor of another married couple? We are the Duke and Duchess of Westley now, and I wishourhome to matchus.”
“You had no right,” he growled. “You should have consulted me first.”
“It is your own condition to our marriage, I would like to remind you, that you said we are not to ask questions of each other’s business.” She lifted her head confidently, meeting his gaze. “Thisis none of your business, I believe, based on your own request.”
“It is when this is my estate.”
“Then I apologize for taking down the peacock decorations you must have beensofond of,” she said, sarcasm dripping inher voice. “Besides… I must admit that this redecoration is… somewhat of a distraction for me. I am concerned about my mother.”
“I told you your mother would be cared for,” he responded curtly.
“Even if that is the case, I cannot help but worry about her. That is why I am doing this. So, is it such a bad thing to indulge in a ladylike activity?”
