Page 58 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

She was testing him, he was sure of it. He tightened his grip on his knife and fork, trying not to let the tension in his jaw show.

“What about when you were a child?” she continued, her chin propped on her hand. “Was your father strict, too? Or were you always like this?”

Dominic stilled.

Victoria didn’t seem to notice the change in his posture. “Was your mother the quiet sort or more talkative like mine? My mother loved talking to her friends?—”

“That is none of your concern,” Dominic cut in, his voice tight.

Victoria blinked, surprised by the interruption. She hesitated, but then asked quietly, “Is—is your mother still alive? She wasn’t at the wedding, but perhaps she’s staying further away?—”

“These things do not concern you,” Dominic said, firmer now, though not unkind.

Victoria’s shoulders curved inward. She lowered her gaze to her plate and didn’t say another word for the rest of the meal.

“May I speak with you in private, Your Grace?” Marianne’s voice was cool, but her eyes flashed with heat as she leaned forward in her chair.

Dominic inclined his head without a word and rose. She stood up as well, her chin jutted, and strode down the hallway ahead of him. He followed, his stride precise, controlled, but his jaw was tight.

They stopped only once they were well away from the servants and her sisters, the low light of the corridor casting long shadows between the paneling.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Victoria like that,” Marianne said, spinning around to face him, her voice low, edged with anger.

Dominic folded his arms. “She crossed a line.”

“She’s a girl,” Marianne countered. “A curious, talkative, headstrong girl—but still a child.”

“I expect a measure of respect in my house,” he said, calm but firm.

“She’s twelve.”

“And I indulged far more questions than anyone else ever has,” he pointed out, his gaze sharp. “You know I did.”

Marianne exhaled, clearly struggling between loyalty to her sister and her rising frustration.

“You can’t bark at her the moment she touches something raw. If you want respect, you must offer a little grace in return.”

“I’ve offered plenty of grace,” Dominic replied, stepping closer—not threatening, but unyielding. “I have made room in my quietlife for chaos. For animals. For sisters. For you. I am trying, Marianne.”

“And do you think I am not?” she shot back, now standing with her back to the wall as he loomed nearer. “Do you think I dreamed of being married off without a word in the matter? I was bartered away like a parcel because you walked into my father’s study and said my name.”

He stared at her, unmoving. “I did not choose you like a parcel.”

“Then what?” she challenged. “Because I was not Elizabeth, but I was still convenient?”

His voice dropped. “You were not convenient. You were the opposite of convenient.”

Her breath caught.

“You think I don’t know you didn’t want this? That I don’t see you watching me like you’re waiting for the trap to close? I know what it’s like to feel caged, Marianne.”

They were inches apart now, her shoulders pressed against the wall, his presence like a storm cloud looming overhead. But not once did he touch her.

Until she didn’t move away.

And then, finally, slowly, he reached out, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. His hand didn’t leave her face. He leaned in, his mouth a hairsbreadth from her own.

“You say I know nothing of affection,” he murmured. “But what do you know of it, little doe?”