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Someone should really take him to task! How could he talk so casually in front of the servants?

“Good morning, Your Grace,” she murmured politely.

The scoundrel had the gall to just grin at her visible discomfiture as he walked over to her, placing a hand on her back and pressing a kiss to her cheek the way any doting husband would do to his cherished wife.

“Should we take breakfast, wife?” he murmured in her ear.

She glared up at him. “I was just discussing it with Mrs. Craddock and the others?—”

Ethan simply waved her off and steered her to the door. “The servants are already aware of my preferences, and I would very much like to discuss them with you over breakfast, as well. You might even want to enlighten me aboutyourdesires…”

Phoebe gawked at him.

What was wrong with this man? Did he really have to word it likethat? Did everything that came out of his mouth have to be some sort of innuendo?

This is what you get for marrying a rogue, she reminded herself, close to tears.Of course, he could not be prevailed upon to behave himself!

Well, she would not allow him to make a spectacle of her in front of the staff!

Plastering on a cool smile, she neatly stepped away and past him.

“Of course, Your Grace,” she murmured politely.

“Ethan.”

She frowned at him over her shoulder. He simply smiled back at her—the charming rogue.

“Ethan,” he enunciated. “I believe my beloved wife should call me by my name.”

Beloved, indeed!

She nodded and moved to the door, when he caught up to her and whispered briefly in her ear, “You should practice it for when you are screaming my name in the bedroom.”

To her eternal dismay, she stumbled at his words, and he caught her just as easily.

Phoebe glared at him, but she was soon finding that it had no effect on him whatsoever. The man was incorrigible—there was no improving him, sadly.

They made their way to the breakfast room, and when Phoebe headed for the seat opposite his, he stopped her.

“My Duchess will not be seated so distantly from me,” he told her. He led her to the place immediately to the right side of the head of the table and pulled the chair out for her. “This is where you shall sit during all our meals.”

It was close, much too close to him, but she could see that the plates and cutlery had already been set out to his preference.

Perhaps I should have a word with the servants about this later.

She sat down gingerly, and Ethan pushed in her chair carefully. She thought that he would go over to his seat, but he paused to lean down and play with a stray curl that dangled down the side of her neck before tucking it behind her ear.

“I apologize, Duchess. You are far more tempting than this feast before us.” He shrugged with an impenitent grin.

He sat down and placed a slice of ham and some bread on her plate as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“How did you sleep last night?” he asked her.

“Er… quite well, thank you very much.”

“You would have slept far better if you had allowed me in your bed,” he replied with a dramatic sigh.

Phoebe opened her mouth to argue, but Ethan gave her a pointed look and set his knife and fork down.