Page 35 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
Her body bowed almost right off the sofa, having enjoyed some wine that had proven to make her a little boneless and flimsy.
She caught herself, giggling. “Oh, dear. Perhaps that was very good wine.”
“Shall I attend the door, Your Grace?” the footman asked.
“No,” she said, waving him off. “I shall go. I am lady of the household, and I shall greet my guest—Oh.”
She realized that it might be the Duke, returning. She had heard him leave some hours before in the late afternoon.
Veronica clumsily stumbled to her feet, wiping the dregs of sleep away from her eyes. The parlor around her was in disarray with the refurbishments, and she could hope the Duke would soon see her vision.
“I shall remove this for you, Your Grace,” a maid said, scooping up her wine glass and taking it away.
Veronica smiled as she ventured out of the parlor and towards the entrance hall. It was gaudy and garish.
I would like to give this hall a redecoration, too, she thought as she stumbled down the hallway, only to find the Duke shrugging off his coat. A footman took it as he dropped it into the waiting hand without even glancing back to check if anybody was there.
Of course, he knew there would be.
Veronica rolled her eyes as she swung her hips, sauntering forward.
The footman glanced at her with an uneasy smile as he rushed off with the coat, leaving them alone in the entrance hall.
Henry turned around and startled, as if he had not expected to see her there.
“Good evening,” she said, clasping her arms behind her back and swinging forward on the balls of her feet.
All day, she had not been able to get his eyes out of her mind. The dark glare, the hatred he kept within them, the short rudeness that still somehow ignited passion in her.
And the kiss… Oh, the kiss was something she had not been able to stop thinking about for days now.
Perhaps that is why I drank half a glass too many, she thought.
He did not return the sentiment of bidding her a good evening. Those dark eyes only turned on her.
“Why are you awake at this hour?” he glowered at her.
“Why have you returned at this hour?” she countered.
Henry gave her a once-over before shaking his head. “That is none of your concern.”
“Then it is none ofyourconcern why I am still awake at this hour, either.”
He gave her a withering look. “The scent of wine announces your presence before your own voice does.”
“And you smell like a barmaid’s apron,” she quipped. “Perhaps we have both indulged this evening.”
Jealously curled in her stomach, entirely ridiculous and far too assuming. Just because he smelled of beer did not mean he had taken delight ineveryaspect of a village inn—for she assumed that was where he had gone.
“Was it the village inn?” she asked. “Mrs. Nelson informed me of some of the points around Westley. I am assuming it is where you found yourself deep in your cups?”
“Need I remind you of my prior warning, Duchess?” he asked, and the way he said her new title, with every inch of power and knowledge that she only held it because of him, had her stomach curling. “Stay out of my business.”
“Why are you allowed to ask of my whereabouts and happenings, but I cannot ask of yours? Is it because you feel entitled to know due to saving my mother and me from ruin? Because I guarantee you that does not constitute your right to know of my every movement.”
She refused to let him intimidate her, not even when he approached her.
Something crossed across his face as she tipped her head back to look at him. He was so tall, overpowering her in height and presence.
