“Perhaps it is simply a reference to the fact that most men’s wives are smaller than them.” Frederick looked at her. “You are smaller than me, after all.”
“Yes, but I am by no means little.” An odd expression crossed her face, but she shook her head and continued before Frederick could ask her about it. “It just… It always makes me feel as though a man is talking to a child. Which is doubly awful when you consider these same men are married to these women and most profess to love their wives and clearly are doing what married people do.”
“What married people do?” Frederick arched an eyebrow at her. “If your main objection to the use of ‘little’ is to do with what married people do then…”
Andrea’s eyes widened and she flapped her hands wildly. “That was not- I was not… I did not mean that I thought we would – I mean not that I think about doing such things with you. Or anyone. I was just pointing out that people who do such things and call each other “my little” something or other make me feel all kind of strange. I wasnotsuggesting that I had any wish to engage in such activities myself. I just…”
“You really are adorable when you are flustered.” This time he was prepared for the scone and caught it before it hit his head, hurling it back at her.
She let out a startled shriek, covering her head with her hands as she dove off the end of the sofa. Soon, scones were flying through the air, the sound of laughter echoing around them. As they chased each other round the room, Frederick found himself wondering when he had last had so much fun.
Some time later, Frederick was lying with his back against the wall, looking at Andrea who was sprawled on the sofa. They had called a truce and settled back into conversation. He moved towards her, gently lifting her into his arms and settling her onto the bed.
For a moment, he debated carrying her to her own rooms, but suspected the journey would be more likely to disrupt her sleep. “You are rather sweet when you are sleeping.”
She made a soft grumble in answer, before curling into his pillows. He tucked the covers over her, plucking a few stray crumbs from her hair. His fingers brushed her skin, and she moved into his touch.
“Sweet dreams, Andrea.” He murmured, bending over as though to kiss her and stopping himself when he realised what he was doing.
He straightened abruptly, and scribbled a quick note to Andrea before he moved to the sofa. The smell of her perfume mingled with his cologne as he made his bed. He inhaled deeply and sleep claimed him.
ChapterSeventeen
“Five more minutes.” Andrea batted her hand in her sleep, trying to ward away whoever was trying to wake her up.
It is probably Lucy.She could hear soft muttering, deeper than Lucy’s voice. Her brow creased, but she still did not open her eyes. The muttering started again, and with a shock, Andrea realised it was a man’s voice.
She bolted upright, her eyes flying open as she clutched the covers to her chest. Sunlight flooded through the room, making her squint. Birdsong drifted in from the outside and the smell of amber filled her nostrils.
“This is not my room.” She frowned and remembered the night before.
Her heart raced as she turned, prepared to find the Duke sleeping beside her. Yet there was no one else in the bed. She ran a hand along the space beside her.
“It does not seem as though anyone but me has slept here.” She chewed on her lip.
“The cas in the sherb.” A voice from the sofa caught her attention.
Quietly getting to her feet, Andrea crept towards the sofa and peered over the edge of it. Frederick was fast asleep, legs bent at an awkward angle, face scrunched up.
“Cas in the sherb.” He mumbled again.
Andrea frowned trying to work out what he was saying, but could not piece it together. She glanced back at the bed, and then again at the sleeping man, curled up into a clearly uncomfortable position. She brushed a few crumbs off his face, her fingertips stroking his skin. Warmth flooded through her and her mouth went suddenly dry.
“Why did you sleep here?” she murmured, not loud enough to wake him.
She glanced towards the bed and saw a note that had fallen to the floor when she had started so suddenly. She picked it up, her heart hammering in her chest as she saw Frederick’s familiar writing.
Dear Andrea,
You fell asleep and I did not want to wake you. I thought I would sleep on the sofa – we are not that kind of married couple, after all.
There were several lines that had been scratched out that she could not quite read, before the letter continued. She thought she could make out the word “scone” and something about “agreement” and then “letters” but the scratches were too much for her to decipher anything more.
I hope you had a pleasant sleep.
Frederick
She held the letter in shaking hands. Her chest felt tight as she turned to glance back at the sofa. She took half a step towards it before she caught herself and stopped. Her mouth was dry. To her frustration heat filled her eyes, and she found tears streaking down her face.
