Page 16 of The Duke’s Spinster Bride (A Duke’s Game #2)

Chapter Sixteen

“I am only here for the scones.” Andrea plonked herself on the sofa opposite him and took one of the scones from the platter. “I do not want you getting any ideas.”

“It is only scones, Duchess, hardly the type of food to give one ideas.” Frederick laughed, but felt his heart speed up as their eyes met.

He hastily took one of the scones and bit into it, taking advantage of the moment to stop looking at Andrea. Moonlight streamed through his window, casting shadows across the wall and bathing Andrea in an almost ethereal glow.

His mouth was dry. He leapt to his feet and walked towards one of the nearby dressers.

“What are you doing?” Her words were muffled, and Frederick suspected she was speaking around a mouthful of scone.

He smiled at the image but did not turn around, instead rummaging through the drawers until he found his tinderbox. “I hate eating in the dark.”

He lit the candles on the candelabra and brought it to the coffee table. “It is far too messy.”

He sat back on the floor, and stretched his legs out in front of him before grabbing a scone from the platter. His fingers brushed against Andrea’s and he heard the sound of her breath catching. Or perhaps it was his own.

The smell of her perfume lingered in his nose. The memory of catching her as she fell from the stool floated to the forefront of his mind. He swallowed and took a bite of his scone with difficulty.

“I am surprised the cook’s shouts did not raise half the castle.” Andrea’s voice was soft, not quite a whisper but not far from it.

Frederick shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with a free hand. “Caverton Castle is rather large. And sound carries strangely here. I expect if we had led her on a longer chase, we might have caused more of a disturbance, but we did not.”

He took another scone and chewed on it, rolling out some stiffness in his shoulders. The sound of their laughter seemed to fill the silence between them.

“Why did you not just tell her who you were?” Andrea asked, crossing her ankles over each other.

“It would have embarrassed her to realise she had been shouting at the Duke and Duchess.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “I did not want to do that.”

She frowned. “You are not worried she will accuse the servants of stealing?”

“You heard what she said, she will tell the Duke in the morning and I will reassure her that I will look into the matter. She has been telling me about pantry thieves for years.” He grinned at Andrea who smiled back.

The warmth of her smile spread through him, and he ran a hand absently over his chest as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“And how many of them have been you?” She shook her head, but the smile did not leave her face.

He laughed. “Most of them. Well, all of them, but sometimes Dorson and Elington were there as well.”

“She must think you rather incompetent at catching thieves.” Her eyes glittered in the candlelight as she tilted her head towards him.

“Oh, I have no doubt she knows it is me. But this way we can both pretend and no one need feel embarrassed or upset.” He shrugged and massaged his shoulder. “A rather elegant solution if you think about it.”

“It seems like a lot of trouble to go to when you could just tell her the truth.” Andrea pulled her legs onto the sofa, leaning against the arm and peering at him.

He ran a hand through his hair. “But if I did that, I would have never have gotten to experience the delight of you giggling like some naughty child.”

She shifted on the sofa, her eyes searching his face. “If I recall, you were also laughing.”

“Exactly! It may seem rather elaborate to you, but this way is far better for everyone involved.” He leaned back on his hands, crossing his legs over one another as he looked at her.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, tapping her finger against them. “You do go through rather a lot of trouble to avoid hurting people’s feelings.”

“Would you rather I live my life uncaring of such things?” He had meant it to sound like a joke, but his voice came out firmer than he had intended.

“No.” Her eyes traced across his face with such intensity it felt like she was touching him.

He swallowed and shifted his weight. He wondered what was going through her mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, but he could not bring himself to look away.

“Even when someone is wrong, or something has upset you… You rarely voice it.” Andrea leaned against the arm of the sofa.

“If I do not voice it, then how do you know it has upset me?”

“Your muscles go all tense, and your smile does not quite reach your eyes. Depending on your level of upset, your jaw will twitch.” Andrea gestured to him.

Her words caught him off guard. His heart skidded to a halt. He shook his head. What is happening?

“It sounds like you watch me rather closely.” His voice caught in his throat, and he swallowed. “Careful, Duchess, I might think you are starting to grow fond of me.”

“You see, you just did it!” she pointed to him. “You got uncomfortable and then you made a joke. You always do that.”

He reddened, his back stiffening as he looked at her. There was excitement on her face, her eyes wide as she sat up a little straighter.

“You do not always have to keep things light.” She gestured to him. “You are allowed to have emotions you know.”

He let out a mirthless laugh. “You are a fine one to talk.”

“And what does that mean?” She folded her arms across her chest.

He gestured towards her, frustration getting the better of him. If she wants to judge me, then let us see how she likes it. “You act as though you are some prickly little ball, keeping everyone away, but that simply is not true.”

“I do not.” She sat bolt up right, her eyes narrowing at him.

“You do.” He imitated her, getting to his knees. His heart sped up, blood pounding in his ears as he stood. “Just because you wish to meet the world with fire, does not mean I am wrong for choosing a different path.”

“I never said it was wrong. Just that you did not have to do it all the time.” She leapt to her feet as well, her voice rising. “You cannot always be happy. In fact, the few times I have seen you upset, are the times when it has felt like I am dealing with a person, not some facsimile.”

“It is not my fault you find anger more comforting than kindness.” He snapped.

Her eyes widened and she flinched. His anger vanished, replaced by a wave of guilt. Stupid. Stupid. He fought an urge to move towards her.

“I am sorry. I… I should not have said that.” He tugged his dressing gown around him.

“You are not wrong though.” She gave him a small smile that did not quite meet her eyes. “I am far more familiar with anger than I am with any other emotion.”

“I can tell, you wield it rather expertly.” His lips quirked upward, but he forced himself not to smile.

“Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”

“How about this? Once a week, you may do one thing that upsets me and I will show you that I am upset, but you must ask for help when you need it.”

“That hardly seems fair. You only have to do yours once a week.” She pouted and then tilted her head at him. “I will ask for help once a week, if you promise that you will let yourself be upset in my presence once a week.”

“Deal.” He held out his hand without thinking.

To his surprise, she took it in hers. Her hand was soft and warm. Their eyes met. He

“Now, what will I do this week to irritate you?” She laughed at his startled expression and flopped back onto the sofa.

“Oh, I am sure you will think of something.” He laughed with her, feeling the muscles in his shoulders ease back into place. “Though in truth, your attempts to irritate me have mostly been amusing.”

“Then I shall just have to try harder.” Her eyes flashed and she opened her mouth as though she was going to say something, then closed it again, then met his gaze. “I suppose I could laugh at more of your cousin’s jokes. That seems to rile you up.”

Her eyes drifted to his lips, her cheeks flushed and she looked away. Frederick wondered if she too was remembering their moment from the other night. He let out a soft growl.

“You play a dangerous game, Duchess.” His voice was hoarser than he had intended. “I thought you did not flirt.”

“I am just trying to honour our new agreement.” She replied, but in the flickering candlelight, he saw two faint spots of colour on her cheeks.

He moved closer to her, stroking his jaw as he did. He gave her a serious look, watching as her eyes widened and then narrowed. “You called this our new agreement, which implies the old one no longer is relevant. Which means…” He paused, his eyes drifting across her as he leaned closer. “I can call you my little sweetkins.”

Her eyes widened, lips parting. A moment later, something hit him squarely in the face, bouncing from his head onto the floor in a shower of crumbs.

“Did you just… throw a scone at me?” He chuckled as he pulled bits of food from his hair.

“You deserved it.” Andrea shifted on the sofa, her eyes flashing even as her smile broadened.

He dusted the rest of the crumbs off himself. “So I take it that is a no, on ‘my little sweetkins’?”

“Definitely.” She nodded. “Personally, I hate when men call their loved ones ‘little’ anything.”

“How come?” He canted his head towards her. How are there crumbs in my ear?

“It feels… Well, it feels like you are likening them to a child and that is just–” She made a disgusted noise.

“Perhaps it is simply a reference to the fact that most men’s wives are smaller than them.” Frederick looked at her. “You are smaller than me, after all.”

“Yes, but I am by no means little.” An odd expression crossed her face, but she shook her head and continued before Frederick could ask her about it. “It just… It always makes me feel as though a man is talking to a child. Which is doubly awful when you consider these same men are married to these women and most profess to love their wives and clearly are doing what married people do.”

“What married people do?” Frederick arched an eyebrow at her. “If your main objection to the use of ‘little’ is to do with what married people do then…”

Andrea’s eyes widened and she flapped her hands wildly. “That was not- I was not… I did not mean that I thought we would – I mean not that I think about doing such things with you. Or anyone. I was just pointing out that people who do such things and call each other “my little” something or other make me feel all kind of strange. I was not suggesting that I had any wish to engage in such activities myself. I just…”

“You really are adorable when you are flustered.” This time he was prepared for the scone and caught it before it hit his head, hurling it back at her.

She let out a startled shriek, covering her head with her hands as she dove off the end of the sofa. Soon, scones were flying through the air, the sound of laughter echoing around them. As they chased each other round the room, Frederick found himself wondering when he had last had so much fun.

Some time later, Frederick was lying with his back against the wall, looking at Andrea who was sprawled on the sofa. They had called a truce and settled back into conversation. He moved towards her, gently lifting her into his arms and settling her onto the bed.

For a moment, he debated carrying her to her own rooms, but suspected the journey would be more likely to disrupt her sleep. “You are rather sweet when you are sleeping.”

She made a soft grumble in answer, before curling into his pillows. He tucked the covers over her, plucking a few stray crumbs from her hair. His fingers brushed her skin, and she moved into his touch.

“Sweet dreams, Andrea.” He murmured, bending over as though to kiss her and stopping himself when he realised what he was doing.

He straightened abruptly, and scribbled a quick note to Andrea before he moved to the sofa. The smell of her perfume mingled with his cologne as he made his bed. He inhaled deeply and sleep claimed him.