Page 69 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"Of course," she said.
He left through the connecting door, and Ophelia was alone again. Or not quite alone as Mary was still there, trying to be invisible in the corner.
"Is it always like this?" Ophelia asked her.
"Like what, Your Grace?"
"So formal. So careful."
Mary looked uncertain about answering. "His Grace is... particular about things."
"Particular."
"He likes order. Routine. Things being proper."
"And I'm decidedly improper."
"I didn't say that, Your Grace!"
"No, but it's true. I'm a Coleridge who was sick on him at our wedding and arrived at his estate dressed as a servant. I'm the definition of improper."
Mary bit her lip, clearly fighting not to smile. "It has been an unusual day, Your Grace."
"That's very diplomatic of you."
Chapter Sixteen
When the time had come, Mrs. Morrison arrived to escort her to dinner, and Ophelia tried not to feel like she was being led to her execution. The family dining room, when they reached it, was indeed smaller than the formal one she'd glimpsed earlier. It could only have hosted a small ball.
Alexander was already there, standing by the window with a glass of what looked like brandy. He turned when she entered, and something flickered across his face—perhaps embarrassment at the contrast between them.
"Would Your Grace care for brandy?" the butler asked.
"Yes, thank you." Though what she really wanted was something stronger. Perhaps the entire bottle.
They stood awkwardly, drinks in hand, like strangers at a gathering where they knew no one else.
"How is your correspondence?" she finally asked.
"Tedious. Everyone wants to know about the wedding."
"What are you telling them?"
"That we were married. The end."
"Concise."
"I see no point in elaborating."
"Even though everyone already knows what happened?"
"Especially because everyone already knows. Confirming or denying would just add fuel to the gossip."
"So we pretend nothing happened?"
"We maintain dignified silence."
"Is that what this is? Dignified silence?"
