Page 5 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter Five

“O h, goody!” Isabella leaned across the dining table, her eyes shining brightly. “It is herring! My favorite!”

Christine smiled at the girl, a wave of pleasure sweeping over her at the sight of the girl’s delight.

At the same moment, Beatrice clapped her hands together with glee, spying the pheasant, lying resplendently on a large platter in the middle of the table.

“That is my favorite!” she cried, turning to Christine, with a look of surprise on her face. “How did you know?”

Christine’s smile widened. “I asked Cook,” she replied, adjusting the napkin on her lap, feeling another flush of pleasure. “She told me what you both like, and I thought it would be a nice surprise for you both this evening.”

“Is Papa going to join us for the main course?” asked Isabella, pouting a little. “He missed the soup.”

Christine’s smile froze a little. “I really do not know,” she replied, trying to keep her voice light. “But I hope that we will enjoy this feast, nonetheless…”

Her voice trailed away at the sound of the dining room door opening.

She turned, her heart stilling at the sight of the duke, striding into the room. Without a word, he sat down at the head of the table, unfolding his napkin.

Christine took a deep breath, picking up her wine glass, and taking a deep gulp.

She hadn’t seen him in two days. Not since his rejection.

Her cheeks started to burn at the memory of it. Not only had he dismissed her, but he had utterly humiliated her beforehand.

It had taken great courage for her to knock on the adjoining door like that, and the only reason she had done it was out of a sense of duty. Satisfying his conjugal rights was as much of her wifely duties as anything. Or so she had believed.

Clearly, the duke didn’t think so.

That would never have happened if Violet had married him. He would have been more than happy to take his conjugal rights if her sister had been his wife.

I must be completely undesirable. But then, that is not surprising, is it?

Her hand tightened on the stem of her wine glass.

“Papa!” cried Isabella, her eyes shining. “You have joined us at last!”

“Yes,” said the duke, raising his eyebrows. “I thought I should make an appearance and see how things are getting on.” His eyes narrowed as he gazed at his daughter. “Did you behave for Mr. Piper during your harpsichord lesson today, Isabella?”

The girl pouted. “I do not like the harpsichord,” she declared. “It sounds like a cat howling whenever I pluck the strings.”

Christine couldn’t help laughing. “I am sure you are being too hard on yourself, Isabella.”

“How would you know?” Isabella turned to Christine, a challenging look in her blue eyes. “You were not there. You did not hear it.”

“Mind your tongue, Isabella,” growled her father, his face darkening. “You must show respect to your new mother.”

“Why is she our new mother?” Isabella turned to her father, her jaw tightening. “You never told us why you did not marry Lady Violet, Papa.”

“Yes, why did you marry our father instead of your sister?” asked Beatrice turning curiously to Christine. “I do not understand.”

There was a sudden, tense silence. Christine took another long sip of her wine.

How could she explain the truth to these children? How could she tell them that her older sister had vanished without explanation and that their father had forced Christine to take her place after dismissing her own intended husband? They were just little girls. They couldn’t possibly understand. She was an adult, and she didn’t understand.

“It turns out Lady Violet was not reliable,” said the duke, in a scornful voice. “She is clearly a frivolous, flighty lady. I am certain it all turned out for the best.”

A pang of anger stabbed Christine’s heart. She turned to the duke.

“You do not know my sister to speak about her like that,” she said, in a low, livid voice. “She is not frivolous or flighty. No one knows the truth of why she is missing. It may not have been her choice at all.”

“I only know what happened,” retorted the duke, color rising in his face. His dark brown eyes flashed dangerously. “What would you have me think when the lady vanished so abruptly on her wedding day?”

“As I said, you do not know the reason any more than any of us do,” she retorted hotly. “I only ask that you do not make unjust reproaches against my sister’s character.”

“Your entire family are suspect,” he stated crisply, staring at her. “Your sister, for her appalling conduct. And your father, as well.” He paused. “Lord Dunhill is responsible for her. He should have made sure she was at the church. It is the duty of a father, after all.”

“My father bent over backward to accommodate you,” she replied, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she lifted her chin, fury flashing in her eyes.

Even though she was still mad with her father about the way he had pandered to the duke rather than prioritizing finding Violet, she still didn’t like to hear such stinging, public criticism of him. He was still her father, after all.

“He dismissed my own intended husband and gave me to you when you demanded it. Have you forgotten that?”

“Lord Dunhill needed to make reparation,” he stated, visibly bristling in his chair. “He promised me a wife, and I intended to have one. I suppose I had a lucky escape, if the original Duchess of Ironstone lacks the decency to face the consequences of her own choices.”

The words landed like a slap, sharp and unforgivable. Blood roared in her ears as fury overtook her.

Without thinking, she shot to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“You will not speak of my sister that way.”

With one last seething look, she turned and stormed from the room, her hands trembling at her sides.

She was halfway down the hallway when she felt the hand on her arm, spinning her around. It was the duke, glaring at her.

“How dare you walk out of the dining room in that manner!” he snarled. “Is that the proper way to teach my daughters how to behave?”

“How dare I ?” she flung back at him, even though his words stung her to the core. The last thing she wanted to do was give his children the impression that walking out like that was acceptable behavior. But she hadn’t been able to stop herself. “How dare you talk about my sister in that way? You do not know her at all!”

Those dark eyes flickered over her face. “I understand you are loyal to your sister—even though she has upended your life in a most abrupt way—but you are responsible for my daughters now, and you must behave accordingly.”

“Of course, I am loyal to her,” declared Christine hotly. “Violet is my only sister—and I love her dearly.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Even if she vanished of her own volition, she would never have thought this would happen—that our father would force me to marry you , rather than my own intended husband. And I won’t stand for you to insult her in front of me.”

His face tightened. “So, you wished to marry Trentham, then? It was a love match?”

Christine blushed fiercely. “I never said that. Lord Trentham was as much a stranger to me as you are.” She squared her shoulders, as if for battle, glaring at him. “And you cannot talk to me about setting a bad example for your children. You barely spend any time with them. They have barely seen you since we returned from London.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you,” he hissed, gripping her arm tighter. “You have been in residence at Ironstone Castle for less than a week, so you have little understanding of how life works here with my family.”

“Then why do you not tell me?” she cried, trying to twist her arm out of his steel grip, and failing. “Why do you not sit down with me and explain how life works here, instead of leaving me alone to stumble in the dark? It’s as though you are intent upon setting me up to fail!”

Silence fell.

Christine suddenly became aware of how close they were standing. Their faces were mere inches apart. She noticed the dark stubble on his chin, at the point where his beard began, and the way his dark brown curls fell on his forehead.

His eyes are flecked with gold. I never noticed that before.

She realized, quite abruptly, that she was trembling from head to toe. A soft, slight tremor, which was overtaking her entire body. Her heart was racing so hard now it felt as if there was a frightened hare running through her chest.

He swore softly beneath his breath, his eyes pinning her to the spot.

She felt as if she were in a trance, swaying toward him against her will, like the branches of a willow tree in the wind. She felt his other hand slide around her waist, pulling her closer.

The scent of him, intensely masculine, hit her, causing her nipples to harden beneath the soft chiffon of her gown in a quite alarming way. She had never felt such a thing before.

“You have been disobedient, little mouse,” he whispered. “And I simply will not have it.”

“I…I…”

She could barely breathe, let alone speak. Once again, she felt that sizzling thrill within her. Somehow, his proximity and his dominating manner was an irresistible combination.

Her mind was clouded with confusion as well as desire. She didn’t understand any of it. Why was he suddenly gripping her, staring at her in such an avid way, looking as if he was about to devour her, when he clearly disliked her so intensely?

Do not forget he rejected you on your wedding night. He told you to leave his chambers.

“Papa!”

They jumped apart like scolded cats. Isabella and Beatrice were standing there, side by side, staring at them, their big blue eyes filled with astonishment.

“What were you doing , Papa?” asked Beatrice, in a curious voice, tilting her head to the side to look at them, like a baby bird.

“Are you going to come back to the dinner table?” Isabella asked. “The food is getting cold.”

“Yes,” said the duke quickly, adjusting his cravat. He turned to Christine. “You are coming back, are you not?”

Christine hesitated. They were all staring at her, now, waiting for her response.

She felt foolish. Her anger had drained away. She knew she was being ridiculous, deserting the dinner table in such high dudgeon.

The duke was right—it wasn’t an appropriate way to behave in front of his children. Or in front of anyone, for that matter. She wasn’t usually given to such mercurial fits of anger—she was always very even tempered. What was wrong with her?

“Yes,” she said, shamefaced. She couldn’t look at him. “Let us all return and continue our meal.”

They all turned, walking down the hallway toward the dining room. Christine could feel the duke’s eyes on her, but she still refused to look at him.

Shame washed over her, making her face redden violently. How could she have lost control of her faculties like that with him? One minute they had been arguing, and the next…well, the next something was happening between them that defied explanation.

Her hand strayed to her lips. One thing was certain—if his daughters hadn’t interrupted them, he would have kissed her.

And Christine didn’t know what to think about that at all.