But the duchess had still communicated with him, sending him invitations to events and gritting her teeth when he inevitably turned them down. After all, theonlyreason Aurelia recognizedthe duke’s crest was because it had been on his seal on more than one occasion.
His expression hardened, and any intention she’d had of asking him more about his wife faded in the face of such a look.
“I am not in the mood for this conversation,” he dismissed darkly. “Feel free to finish your breakfast at your leisure.” He bowed to her and left the room, leaving her staring at her full plate. And, more to the point, the duke’s half-eaten plate that he had also abandoned.
She liked his home.
Against all odds, she felt as though she could make a life here—if it weren’t for the duke himself.
His temper and his idiosyncrasies were the only obstacles standing in her way. The rumors that he had killed his former wife would not leave her head. So far, he had done nothing to make her feel afraid. Even now, when he had taken her chin in his hand and demanded that she give him permission to kiss her, he hadwaitedfor that permission.
Could he truly be the scoundrel the village declared he was?
If she was ever to know, she was going to have to ask him properly.
CHAPTER TEN
Aurelia’s hands shook slightly as she tossed back her second glass of wine. Ordinarily, she didn’t partake—when she had been at home, her mother had deemed her too young for wine, and the Duchess of Fenwick had, of course, never permitted her a sip.
But tonight, she would need it.
Tonight, she would confront the duke about the rumors surrounding his wife’s death. She would find out once and for all.
She just needed a little liquid courage.
That would solve everything.
Mr. Fellows held the door to the dining room open with military precision, and she sailed in, her head held high. She suspectedhe still polished his boots like a soldier and made his bed with hospital corners, too.
The duke was already sitting in place, at the opposite end of the table from her, and she surveyed the place settings with more than her usual ire.
Confrontations, in her experience, did not happen at opposite ends of a long table. From there, she would not be able to see the intricacies of his expressions. If she were to learn the truth, she would have to be able toseeit.
And so, without another glance at him, she gathered her silverware and plate.
The duke frowned. “What in the devil are you doing?”
“Coming to sit beside you. Are we not husband and wife?” The room spun a little as she made her way to him and returned everything she held to the table. Yes, this felt right. She would get the truth out of him like this—close enough to read his eyes, and close enough to catch the clean, quiet scent of him: leather, cedar, and the faintest trace of sea salt.
He leaned back in his chair. “I presume you have an ulterior purpose in this.”
“Ialwayshave a purpose,” she said loftily.
“It has become rather apparent.”
“It isto be hoped you are not too put out by my presence.” She touched his arm, much like she might have touched a friend’s, and at the contact, he froze, looking down at where her fingertips brushed his bare wrist.
She was not wearing gloves, and she became aware of that simple fact at the same time as he did. Inside the house, she preferred not to wear gloves, but it seemed the sight of her bare fingers against firm muscle had shocked the duke beyond all speech.
“…Well,” she murmured, looking down embarrassedly at the proof of his horror. “Evidently, you do not want me that badly.”
His gaze traveled from her hands to her face, his expression faintly incredulous. “That is the conclusion you’ve come to.”
“You asked me to kiss you the other day, but I doubt you’d have liked the experience.” She withdrew her hand, trying to recall her original intentions. Not toneedlehim about his lack of attraction to her, or the fact that he intended to visit her bedchamber at some point in the future.
What else could be expected of a duke-husband?
“Before you arrived, I was unaware of your appearance,” he began in a deep baritone.
