Page 15 of The Duke’s Spinster Bride (A Duke’s Game #2)

Chapter Fifteen

Y ou took everything from me. Her father’s voice rang out in the mist of her dream. She whirled around, looking for the source. She could see nothing but blackness around her.

“Leave me alone.” She growled into the inky blackness.

Somewhere she could hear a woman crying, screaming in pain. It tore through her like a knife through butter and she clutched at her chest. She started to run. She needed to help, she had to help. .

The screaming cut off in an abrupt end.

Terror gripped her, squeezing her chest tighter than the tightest corset. Her legs shook as she collapsed to her knees. Your fault. Utterly cursed.

Her father’s words echoed around her. Who could want you?

Andrea woke with a start. Her cheeks were wet, her sheets twisted around her body like rope. Her breath came in shaking pants as she drew her knees to her chest.

“It was just a dream.” She murmured looking out of the window. “That is all. It was only a dream.”

She drew her dressing gown around her, swiping her hair from her forehead as she stood up and walked towards the door. The shadows seemed to grow around her. She could almost smell the stale smoke that seemed to linger around her father.

“A snack. That is what I need. Something to settle my stomach, and then I will be right as rain.” She nodded to herself and grabbed a candle.

It flickered to life on her second attempt to rekindle it, and she held it aloft as she made her way down to the kitchens. Her steps echoed in the hall around her, making her jump at every shadow.

When she approached the kitchen, she heard the distinct noise of someone rustling in the cupboards. Her heart sped up. What if it is a thief?

She spotted a candelabra on a nearby table and took it in her free hand. Carefully, she crept her way towards the sounds, her weapon held at the ready.

A tall figure was rifling through the cupboards, softly cursing under his breath. Andrea’s foot caught on the small step into the kitchen. She stumbled and the sound drew the man’s attention.

“Were you planning on hitting me with that?” Frederick pointed to the candelabra in her hand as he clutched a biscuit tin to his chest.

“I thought you might be a thief.” Andrea flushed as she put her would-be weapon and candle on the large workbench, tugging her dressing gown more tightly around her as she did.

She was very aware of the thinness of the gown and the night shift beneath it. The memory of the way Frederick had looked at her a few nights before flooded through her.

I am your real husband. She swallowed, a small shiver running through her as the smell of his cologne filled the air between them. Frederick had his own velvet dressing gown draped across him, though she noted it was not done up as tightly as hers. The hint of the bare skin of his chest was visible. Heat spread through her and she swallowed, licking her lips. All I wanted was a snack.

“And you decided to confront me by yourself?” Frederick shook his head, leaning against the table as he surveyed her. “You are either the bravest or the most foolish woman I have ever met. Perhaps both.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to do? Simply let some thief help himself to the pantry? By the time I found a guard, who knows where he might have gone?” Andrea folded her arms across her chest. “He could have gotten up to all kinds of mischief.”

“And you trying to stop him could have got yourself killed, or worse.” Frederick shook his head, and for a moment Andrea thought he was going to reach out towards her, but instead, he pulled another biscuit from the tin and popped it in his mouth. “While I admire your independence, you do have rather a tendency for biting off more than you can chew.”

Andrea snapped. “Well in future, I shall just let the thief pillage to his hearts content.”

Frederick’s eyes softened, and he bit his bottom lip, looking endearingly boyish in the flickering candlelight. “I would far rather that, than see any harm come to you. Things can be replaced after all.”

Her heart flipped in her chest. She ran a hand along her thigh, tapping her fingers against it, as she forced herself to keep meeting her husband’s gaze.

She tried to think of something to say, but words failed her. I should just be grateful that I have not turned into a babbling idiot again. Frederick’s eyes sparkled in the light, and he looked down at the biscuit tin in his lap.

“I suppose we should both be glad that I am not a thief.” Frederick jerked his head towards the candelabra, the familiar easy grin appearing on his face.

The tightness that had spread across her chest, eased somewhat and she let out a breath she had not realised she had been holding. “Says the man whose hand is currently buried in a tin full of biscuits.”

“It is not thievery if it is my own food, in my own pantry.” Frederick threw a biscuit in the air and caught it in his mouth, before saying thickly. “What are you doing up anyway?”

“I… had a….” Andrea trailed off, thinking of her dream. You took everything from me. Her father’s words echoed in her head and she shuddered. “I had a bad dream. Just some silly thing, but I could not get back to sleep.”

Frederick opened his mouth, and Andrea’s heart sped up. Please, do not ask me for details. Yet even as she thought it, a sense of disappointment filled her when Frederick closed his mouth again and remained silent.

In an effort to hide it, she shrugged. “I thought perhaps a snack would help. Maybe something to drink.”

“A little midnight tipple? How decadent.” Frederick grinned at her, helping himself to another biscuit.

“If I wanted such a thing, I would be in the wine cellar and not the kitchen.” Andrea tried to ignore Frederick as she walked into the larder and found a small glass bottle filled with milk.

She poured herself a glass, feeling his eyes upon her as though they were a physical touch. Andrea swallowed and added honey to the drink, before turning back to Frederick, grateful that the blush of her cheeks would be hard to see in the flickering candlelight that filled the kitchen.

She leaned against the counter, sipping her honey and milk. “Why are you awake?”

Frederick held up the biscuit tin and rattled it gently. “I was hungry. I often am at night. I have no idea why.”

Andrea canted her head towards him. “Perhaps you should eat more at dinner.”

“Tried it, but it does not work.” He patted his stomach. “I still wake up absolutely ravenous.”

“And you could not simply keep snacks by your bed?”

“That feels too much like admitting defeat. If I do not have something to eat close to hand, then I can convince myself that I will not have a little midnight feast.” He let out a theatrical sigh.

“And does that work?” Andrea asked.

“Yes. Well… Sometimes. Perhaps… Three out of every seven days? Still, it is better than nothing.” Frederick grinned at her. “And if I did not resort to such measures, I might never have met you in these clandestine circumstances in which we now find ourselves.”

Andrea scoffed, but tugged her dressing gown even more tightly around her. “Hardly clandestine, we are just eating. Well, you are eating.”

“Food at midnight, is never just food. There is always something… exciting about it. A kind of forbidden element.” He leaned towards her. “Even though it is my own home, there is something… enticing about the thrill of doing something you know you are not supposed to, and knowing you might be caught.”

“Not that any servant would tell you off, after all, you are the Duke.” Andrea pointed out.

“So long as they know it is me, yes. Though that is not always the case.” Frederick shrugged. “It makes me feel like I am a child again, sneaking to the kitchens with my cousins in the dead of night.”

“Only to end up poisoned by your grandmother?” Andrea could not help but tease him.

“Sometimes, not every time. It added to the fun.” He leaned back, his eyes distant. “It felt like it would always be the three of us against the world.”

“It must have been nice.” Andrea’s tone came out more wistful than she had intended. “I did not have many friends growing up. I think I have some cousins on my mother’s side, but well, we did not see much of them. My father found being around my mother’s family difficult.”

Frederick put the biscuit tin down, but did not get off the counter to come towards her. “That must have been hard for you.”

“In ways. I am not sure it would have made much difference; I found it hard to relate to people. It was as if they had all read a book telling them what to do and how to act, and no one thought to give me the copy.” She wiped milk away from her top lip, not quite able to meet Frederick’s eyes.

“I would say you are rather good at relating to people. At least from what I have seen. Dorson and his wife think most highly of you. Grandmother adores you. You managed to charm Elington in only a matter of minutes.” A look flashed across his face, his hands clenching slightly before the smile reappeared.

Andrea rubbed the back of her neck. “I think I have simply been lucky to find people who do not care that I have not read the instructions. In my experience they are few and far between. Though perhaps it is better to have fewer, deeper connections than many surface ones.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Frederick stiffen but when she looked at him properly, his face was in shadow.

“I suppose there can be something to be said for that.” His voice held an edge that she could not quite place.

Longing? That made no sense. She shook her head, trying to understand it as her eyes traced the lines of Frederick’s face. His fingers drummed gently against the workbench, his face still hidden from her.

When he leaned forwards, he was smiling again, though it did not quite touch his eyes. “Though some of us opt for quantity over quality.”

It was clear he meant it as a joke, but something about the way he said it tugged at the back of Andrea’s mind. She opened her mouth trying to put her thoughts into words, but her eyes met his and she snapped it shut again.

“Not all of us have that option.” Andrea swallowed.

Something about the Duke’s words tugged at her mind and she turned them over in her thoughts. Her stomach let out a small gurgle and she flushed with embarrassment, hastily turning away from Frederick.

“It would seem you are hungry as well.” His voice was amused.

“Apparently so.” Andrea reached a hand towards Frederick. “Are you going to give me a biscuit?”

“I would, if there were any left.” He gave her a sheepish look and held out the empty tin to her.

Her jaw dropped. “You ate all of them? In the time we have been talking?”

“I was hungry.”

“Clearly.” She laughed. “Well, I suppose I will just have to find something for myself then.”

She looked around the kitchen, squinting into the darkness. She spotted a plate of scones that had been hidden behind a small pot on one of the highest shelves.

The effort to hide the food made her smile as she imagined the exasperated cook going to great lengths to keep things secret from the ever-peckish Duke. She moved towards the shelf, and reached towards the plate of scones.

“You are not going to be able to reach that.” Frederick leapt off the workbench and strode towards her. “Allow me, it is the least I can do.”

“So you can finish these like you did the biscuits? I think not, sir.” Andrea gently pushed him away without thinking.

Her fingers brushed against the exposed skin of his chest, and she jerked away as though burned. His eyes widened, and he pulled his dressing gown around him. She traced a thumb over the tips of her fingers without thinking.

Frederick was running a hand over his chest, and Andrea noticed a flush of colour on his cheeks. He glanced from her to the shelves but did not come closer.

“I can do it myself.” Andrea’s voice shook slightly, but she ignored it as she lifted a stool and placed it beside the counter.

Carefully, she climbed onto it and reached for the scones. Her fingers brushed the platter. The stool wobbled and she let out a startled yelp, losing her balance.

She windmilled her arms, but it was no good. She slipped. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her. The warmth of Fredrick spread through her, sending goosebumps across her skin.

Her breath caught as he gently set her back on her feet. “You do not have to do everything yourself. You are allowed to ask for help, you know.”

The smell of amber overwhelmed her senses. The feel of his hands against the small of her back sent shivers across her body. He reached across her and grabbed the plate of scones, giving her a triumphant smile as he held them before her.

“Who is in my kitchen?” an angry voice boomed out from behind them. “Just you wait until I get my hands on you!”

They leapt apart and Andrea saw the cook emerging from the shadows, a rolling pin in her hands. Even in the dim light, she could tell the woman was not wearing her thick glasses.

“Run.” Frederick whispered and Andrea felt him take her hand in his and pull her from the kitchen.

“My biscuits!” the cook’s wail echoed around the hall. “I will have your guts for garters! I shall tell the Duke about this!”

Footsteps sounded from behind them and Frederick pulled her onwards. Andrea covered her mouth with her hand, trying to keep from laughing as the cook’s threats drifted further and further away from them.

Frederick pulled them through a nearby door and slammed it behind them. He held up a hand to his lips, while the other clutched the tray of scones. Andrea bit on her lip to keep from laughing.

She could hear footsteps outside of the door and then muffled cursing. She looked at Frederick who shook his head. After a moment, they heard the cook depart and return to the kitchen.

Frederick met her gaze and the pair of them collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“Shhhh. She might come back!” Andrea wheezed, clutching her side.

She felt lightheaded, almost giddy as she leaned against the door. Every time she looked at Frederick, her laughter redoubled. She wondered how many times he had done this with his cousins. Warmth spread over her, as the sound of his laughter mingled with hers.

“She will not come in here.” Frederick laughed back, wiping a tear from his eye.

He got to his feet and held out a hand to her, but she waved him away.

“She might.”

“She definitely will not. These are my rooms, after all.” Frederick gestured around them and Andrea’s breath caught.

A large four poster bed sat across from her, beside a small sofa and coffee table. She glanced to the door and then back at Frederick who was still laughing to himself.

For a moment, she debated leaving but her stomach gave another angry gurgle. Frederick arched an eyebrow at her as he laid the scones on the coffee table.

Holding his arm before him as though he were a footman, he bowed to her. “Dinner is served.”

Andrea got to her feet, but hesitated, glancing back at the door. “I should probably go, I would not want to scandalise the servants.”

“I doubt you would, after all, we are married.” Frederick teased her. “Besides, you might as well enjoy the fruit of our labour. Or the scones rather.”

“I am not sure. We did have an agreement after all.” Andrea bit her bottom lip.

Frederick looked to the plate of scones and then back to her. “I do not think it forbade us doing this.”

She rolled her eyes, but felt some of the tension leave her. “Very well. I suppose it could not hurt.”

She rested a hand on her stomach, which gurgled. It is probably just the scones. She could not remember what the agreement had said, and at that moment, she could not quite bring herself to care.