Page 129 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"You'll bill the estate, yes, you've mentioned." She tilted her head up to look at him. "You know, you're rather endearing when you're being protective of your things."
"Endearing? I'm trying to be intimidating."
"That too. Endearingly intimidating."
"That's not a real thing."
"It is when you do it."
He kissed her then, because it seemed the appropriate response, and because he was still amazed that he could just do that now; kiss his wife when she was being amusing or beautiful or simply there.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Friday arrived with unseemly haste, and by seven o'clock Alexander was pacing the drawing room like a caged animal while Ophelia tried to calm him.
"It's just dinner," she said for the fifth time.
"It's dinner with people who actively despise everything I represent."
"They don't despise you."
"They called me a statue!"
"That was before they knew you."
"They don't know me now either."
"No, but they know I'm happy. That will make a difference."
Before he could argue further, they heard the sound of a carriage arriving. Alexander straightened his cravat unnecessarily and assumed what Ophelia called his "duke face"—expression neutral, posture perfect, every inch the aristocrat.
"Don't freeze up on me now," she warned, taking his arm.
"I don't freeze."
"You absolutely freeze. You're doing it right now."
"This is my normal expression."
"This is your 'I'm about to endure something unpleasant' expression."
"How perceptive of you."
The doors opened, and Charles and Edward Coleridge entered, looking remarkably subdued compared to their last visit. They were properly dressed, Charles's cravat actually tied correctly for once, and both wore expressions of genuine nervousness.
"Ophelia!" Charles started forward, then caught himself, bowing formally instead. "That is, Your Grace. You look well."
"I am well," she said warmly, embracing each brother despite their formality. "Very well indeed."
"Your Grace," Edward addressed Alexander with a proper bow. "Thank you for the invitation."
Alexander inclined his head slightly. "Mr. Charles Coleridge. Mr. Edward Coleridge."
There was an awkward pause where everyone seemed unsure how to proceed. Then Ophelia, with the social grace that Alexander was beginning to deeply appreciate, took charge.
"Shall we go through to the drawing room? Dinner won't be served for a bit, and I thought we might actually converse like civilized people rather than stand here terrifying each other."
"We're not terrified," Charles protested, though his voice suggested otherwise.
