“Did you have doubts?” Bridget asked. “I thought that was why you insisted on assessing me over the past weeks. You feared that I, the sister of a Duke, might be insufficient for your household.”
A coldness settled over the table. Bridget took a dainty bite of a honey cake, waiting for her husband to reveal his true self before the guests.
“One can never know,” His Grace said calmly. “Good breeding does not necessarily guarantee a good wife.”
Warmth filled Bridget’s face. She could find no fault in his answer, which had been actually quite pleasant.
“That is true,” Catherine said. “Elias, you should bear that in mind.”
Their brother smiled rakishly. “Sister, I will, but I have no intention of marrying soon.”
“No?” Dorothy asked. “You are the only one of us left.”
“And you are not getting any younger,” Gerard said, smirking.
“I am not older than Merlin either,” Elias said dryly. “I shall find my own bride in due time.”
“Perhaps she will find you,” the Duke of Wheelton said. “That would make the search easier.”
“Yes,” Bridget said.
His Grace’s gaze met hers with such intensity that Bridget shivered. This imposing man was her husband. She was to live with him and obey him and be his wife. Those all seemed to be insurmountable tasks, and Bridget was already drowning beneath the responsibilities that had been heaped upon her. She had not even been the Duchess of Wheelton for an entire day, and it was already too much!
“It was a romantic meeting, or so I heard,” Catherine said. “Rescuing my sister from peril.”
Bridget nearly snorted at the absurdity of that statement. His Grace seemed to think it was the worst day of his life, the day that she had lured him into an unwanted marriage.
“I suppose it was,” His Grace said.
The liar. The hypocrite.
Bridget straightened in her chair. Her feelings were all a tempest inside her mind, screeching and blowing together until she thought she might burst.
“Maybe we should ask Lady Susan to shove you into a lake,” Dorothy said. “Hm, Elias?”
“I would have better luck if I waited for wayward damsels to fall in,” Elias said.
Bridget dug her nails into the palms of her hands. A proper lady would bury her frustration deep, and she wanted to. Her family was not at fault for her poor lot but hearing them tease one another about the incident at the lake was just unbearable. Bridget’s temper frayed quickly, and soon, it was bound to snap.
“It was nothing,” His Grace said.
“Did you ever have your clothing laundered?” Bridget asked abruptly. “Were the expenses part of my dowry?”
“Bridget,” Elias said in a warning tone.
Her head snapped to him, her eyes wide and innocent. “I only wish to know if he is including that detail when he tells the story to everyone,” Bridget said.
“It is an irrelevant detail,” His Grace said, eyes narrowing.
“Just like the Dowager Duchess?” Bridget asked. “When am I to meet her, by the way?”
Silence fell over the table, and ice sank into Bridget’s veins. Heart beating fast, she locked eyes with her husband. His face showed nothing, which was somehow more frightening and thrilling than if he had looked openly angry with her. Bridget recalled their last kiss. Before that little amorous encounter in the library, she had vexed him. Would that happen once more? Would he take her to a dark room and kiss her until her body warmed, and she wanted like she never had before?
“I think,” His Grace said very deliberately, “the wedding breakfast has gone on for long enough. I should like some time alone with my wife.”
“So soon?” Elias asked, visibly startled. “You cannot possibly?—”
“I do,” the Duke of Wheelton said, standing slowly. “It is evident that my duchess and I have much to discuss about this household and my family.”
