Page 17 of The Beastly Duke's Christmas Bride
The duke was reading a newspaper. While she rather hoped he might not acknowledge her, he immediately rose to his feet.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” He glanced at his paper and asked, “Did you not wish for a tray in your bedchamber?”
“Not right now. I thought I might explore.” She swallowed as he nodded, sitting back down to resume his reading. Glancing at the nearest footman, she wondered if he might pull out a chair for her.
His eyes widened and he first glanced at the duke. Stepping forward, the young man reached for one chair and then another like he couldn’t decide which one. Like picking the wrong one had consequences.
Does the entire household fear Sebastian?
“In a moment, please,” she decided to stay instead. “I would love to fill a plate first.”
“Oh, right. Yes, Your Grace, allow me to help you,” he stammered before hastily going to the sideboard.
It took a few minutes to get what she wanted. And then he ended up picking the seat for her––the one at the other end of thelong dining table. That surprised Isabel. She supposed she had the right to ask to sit elsewhere, but didn’t want to embarrass anyone. So she thanked him and took her seat, slowly picking at her food.
All that time, Sebastian had not looked back up.
How quiet it is even with four people in this room. How can they stand it?
“Vale,” she decided to use his requested name in the hopes of it still being appropriate in his perspective whilst breakfasting. “Is there anything of note in the paper this morning?”
“Hm?” He looked over the paper. “No.”
And yet he was still reading it. Isabel glanced at the footmen. There was one on either side of the room and yet they stared at nothing in particular, not even each other. They wouldn’t meet her eye.
“Do you have any plans for today?” Isabel attempted once again. “Perhaps we could enjoy a refreshing walk out of doors. I’m sure the grounds are lovely.”
She caught a glimpse of his shoulder shrugging. “Not particularly.”
A beautiful long wooden table separated them, almost emphasizing the distance. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if this was all on purpose.
“Then are you free to accompany me on the house tour? I would love to hear your stories about the estate,” she tried one more time with a forced bright smile, her hand gripping her fork.
Slowly the newspaper came down to reveal his face. Sebastian looked at her and then his empty plate. Folding up his paper, he rose to his feet. “Unfortunately, I cannot. There are estate manners I must attend to now.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
The honorific made him pause on that second step. Swearing she could see his fist tightening on the paper, crinkling it, she suppressed a smile when he sent her a quick glance. The man could be irritating with his preferred distance and lack of communication, but she could be just as stubborn.
I will make a life here of my own. One way or another. Only I would much prefer it if we could be on better terms. He was agreeable before, so surely, we could do better than this.
“Good day,” Sebastian murmured and then took his leave.
She unclenched her hands. The fork dropped on the table while she leaned back, slouching as she wondered if this was really what he wanted. An estranged union in the same house.
Resisting a sigh, Isabel closed her eyes. It seemed likely she was bound for a lonely life amidst all these people as well. What was she going to do with herself?
CHAPTER 6
Sebastian ducked his head through the doorway, making his way down the hall. He had to switch hands with the paper to dry the damp.
What the devil am I supposed to say or do with a wife?
He remembered the jests he had made with his friends when they married. Tristan, however, was the morose and sharp sort of fellow who needed a wife to liven him up. And Julian needed one to steady out his wild ways. Perhaps Ronan would take one as well someday, but he…
There isn’t anything I need. A wife only gets in the way of everything going on. How am I supposed to manage my projects and charities and estates and boxing on top of keeping an eye on a wife?
Turning down the next hall toward the stairs, he spotted his housekeeper about to cross his path. He gave her a nod with, “Mrs. Maple.”
