Page 17 of The Duke’s Spinster Bride (A Duke’s Game #2)

Chapter Seventeen

“F ive more minutes.” Andrea batted her hand in her sleep, trying to ward away whoever was trying to wake her up.

It is probably Lucy. She could hear soft muttering, deeper than Lucy’s voice. Her brow creased, but she still did not open her eyes. The muttering started again, and with a shock, Andrea realised it was a man’s voice.

She bolted upright, her eyes flying open as she clutched the covers to her chest. Sunlight flooded through the room, making her squint. Birdsong drifted in from the outside and the smell of amber filled her nostrils.

“This is not my room.” She frowned and remembered the night before.

Her heart raced as she turned, prepared to find the Duke sleeping beside her. Yet there was no one else in the bed. She ran a hand along the space beside her.

“It does not seem as though anyone but me has slept here.” She chewed on her lip.

“The cas in the sherb.” A voice from the sofa caught her attention.

Quietly getting to her feet, Andrea crept towards the sofa and peered over the edge of it. Frederick was fast asleep, legs bent at an awkward angle, face scrunched up.

“Cas in the sherb.” He mumbled again.

Andrea frowned trying to work out what he was saying, but could not piece it together. She glanced back at the bed, and then again at the sleeping man, curled up into a clearly uncomfortable position. She brushed a few crumbs off his face, her fingertips stroking his skin. Warmth flooded through her and her mouth went suddenly dry.

“Why did you sleep here?” she murmured, not loud enough to wake him.

She glanced towards the bed and saw a note that had fallen to the floor when she had started so suddenly. She picked it up, her heart hammering in her chest as she saw Frederick’s familiar writing.

Dear Andrea,

You fell asleep and I did not want to wake you. I thought I would sleep on the sofa – we are not that kind of married couple, after all.

There were several lines that had been scratched out that she could not quite read, before the letter continued. She thought she could make out the word “scone” and something about “agreement” and then “letters” but the scratches were too much for her to decipher anything more.

I hope you had a pleasant sleep.

Frederick

She held the letter in shaking hands. Her chest felt tight as she turned to glance back at the sofa. She took half a step towards it before she caught herself and stopped. Her mouth was dry. To her frustration heat filled her eyes, and she found tears streaking down her face.

Quietly, she crept out of the room, her mind reeling. As she emerged into the hall and walked towards her chambers, she found herself completely lost in her own thoughts.

She barely noticed the stares of the servants as she strode through the house in her nightgown. The smell of amber haunted her, and she found herself touching her fingers to her lips. As she rounded a corner, a voice called out and jerked her back to the present.

“Ah! Andrea, just the woman I was looking for!” The Dowager Duchess beamed at her, pulling Andrea into an embrace as she drew level with her.

“Your Grace, I was not expecting to see you here. I mean, today. I know you live in the Dowager Cottage, but well, I thought you were in London for the rest of the season.” Andrea’s cheeks reddened as she saw the old woman glance behind her in the direction Andrea had just come from, clearly taking in her rumpled clothes. Oh God, I am covered in scone crumbs. And I am still in my night clothes!

“Dear, you are family now, and more to the point, we share a rank. I have been trying to get you to call me Agatha for nearly three years and now you have no excuse.” Andrea felt about two inches tall as the Dowager Duchess’s eyes roved her body, a small smirk playing across her lips. “A word of advice, if you wish to slink back to your rooms without notice, it is best to do so in the early hours of the morning.”

Andrea was fairly certain she was dead, and this was in fact some sort of purgatory. Maybe I am still sleeping and this is just some horrible nightmare.

She spluttered, her cheeks so red she was sure they would burst into flame. “I did not plan on—I do not- I mean I- this… It is not what you think. I was just-last night I had a bad dream and well, I wanted a snack and then I happened to bump into Frederick, in the kitchens I mean, and well he finished the biscuits and I was hungry but then the cook came and she was shouting and so we ran and then we were in his rooms and-”

Andrea cut herself off sharply as Agatha’s eyes widened, her smile broadening as she clapped her hands together. She groaned internally and waved her hands in front of her. “Not like that. I just… We talked and I threw a scone at him and it was nice and then I suppose I must have fallen asleep because I woke up this morning and I was in his bed – he was not in it; he slept on the sofa. And it was so thoughtful and so sweet, but I do not want you to get the wrong impression but then I do not even know what impression I have of what happened and my chest it feels full, like it might burst and- and-and.”

Agatha moved towards her and gently took her hand. “My dear girl, draw a breath or you are going to faint.”

Andrea did as she was told and drew in a deep, shaky breath, biting her lips to prevent any further incessant babble tumbling from her mouth. She peered at the Dowager Duchess, her eyes wide.

“Why not get changed, and then you and I shall talk a little in the garden.” Agatha gestured towards the stairs, her bearing making it clear that the words were not a request.

Andrea nodded and fled to her rooms, clutching her chest. She sped into her chambers with such speed that she startled a very confused looking Lucy. Without bothering to answer Lucy’s questioning head tilt, she began pulling out an outfit and asked for help changing.

“The Dowager Duchess is visiting.” Andrea breathed as Lucy helped her into her corset.

“You ran into the Dowager Duchess in your night clothes?” Lucy’s fingers slipped on the fastenings.

Andrea nodded, unable to bring herself to say more. I should never have let myself fall asleep. As soon as she was changed, she sprinted back to the hall where Agatha was waiting for her.

Panting slightly, she held out an arm to the older woman who took it and together they walked into the dazzling sunlight.

“Now tell me everything, from the beginning. I do not think I have ever seen you so flustered.” Agatha patted her arm reassuringly. “And please, try and remember to breathe.”

Andrea let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair as she did. “I hardly know where to begin. I do not even really understand it myself. One moment, I was standing over Frederick, looking at him all asleep and reading the note he left me – did you know he talks in his sleep?”

Agatha nodded. “He gets it from his grandfather, my darling William used to do it all the time. It is partly why we had separate rooms, sometimes I just needed a good night’s sleep.”

She winked at Andrea who felt her ears redden as she continued, “but in general, I found it rather endearing. The nonsense he would come out with, I recall one evening he sat bolt up right and shouted, “the caterpillar has a gun!” And then collapsed back and started to snore.”

“Frederick was murmuring about a cas in a sherb. I have no idea what it meant.” Andrea found herself smiling at the memory and unbidden an image of an older Frederick, curled up beside her murmuring in his sleep poured into her mind.

The thought pulled her up short and she stumbled. Agatha arched an eyebrow at her, her lips pursed. “You sound like you have grown quite fond of my grandson. A rather easy thing to do, of course.”

Andrea nodded. “I have. I… Agatha, I… When I woke up this morning and found his note, I thought I would burst. Just thinking about it makes my eyes all teary, but that makes no sense. I know I am not sad but, every time I think about that moment it is like something inside me is breaking.”

“Sometimes, we cry when we are full of too much emotion. Even pleasant ones.” Agatha was looking at a nearby plant, her lips pursed.

Andrea sighed. “I do not even know what this emotion is.”

“I have a few guesses.” Agatha looked at her, and chuckled. “But I think it is best to let you figure it out on your own. After all, you are a rather clever girl.”

“I feel completely at sea. This was supposed to be a convenient arrangement, one where we both got what we wanted and there was no chance of well… Anything different.” She swallowed as understanding crashed over her like a wave. “But there is a chance of it… No, no… More than that.”

Andrea was aware of Agatha’s eyes on her as her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I think… I think I care for him.”

“I knew you would get there in the end.” Agatha nodded approvingly and gave her a sympathetic look, as her own eyes misted over. “Cavertons have a way of winning over even the most reluctant hearts.”

“But I… I never wanted a real marriage. And everything it would entail.” Andrea’s mouth was dry and she licked her lips. “That… That is too much to think about.”

“A position I have never entirely understood, especially from someone as accomplished and as beautiful as you are.” Agatha gave her a pointed look.

“I do not really feel like I am any of those things.” Or that anyone would see those things in me . Andrea swallowed. “Or at least not beautiful. I suppose one could argue I am accomplished, though not as much as some others.”

“You are twenty six, to be too accomplished would be quite frankly, unbecoming. If you do too much, you will spend your old age bitter and pining for youth.” Agatha winked at her. “And believe me, old age is delightful so long as you leave yourself things to do.”

“Such as?” Andrea could not help but laugh.

“Whatever you wish.” Agatha cackled. “What is the point of living a long life if you cannot cause a little chaos every so often?”

“I suppose I had not thought of it like that.” Andrea grinned, but her smile faltered as she thought of marriage. “Though one is expected to accomplish certain things by a certain age. Especially when you are married. And I… I am not sure how I feel about that.”

Children. An ache filled her but she pushed it away, her heart hammering aggressively in her chest. She glanced at Agatha who was nodding, a knowing look in her eyes.

“The problem with you young people, is you forget that old people were once young people too. I have been married three times. And what I have learned over the course of those marriages, is that you will never be ready for any of it.” Agatha waved her cane in the air. “The real question is one of desire. The heart has a way of telling you what it wants, and rarely waits for you to be ready.”

“I wish it would speak more plainly if that is the case.” Andrea grumbled.

“I often find that in matters of the heart, the problem is rarely one of speaking plainly, but rather being too afraid to listen.” Agatha looked her up and down, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Or perhaps too stubborn.”

Andrea’s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink and she rubbed the back of her neck.

“In such circumstances, I find it best to take small steps. You do not have to do everything at once, there are always choices available to you.” Agatha looked meaningfully at Andrea, before shaking herself and gesturing around them. “I think I have let my grandson sleep long enough. I shall see you later.”

Andrea gave a start and then nodded towards Agatha. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“No, I plan on dining with Cecily. She wanted a break from the season, though we will both journey back together in a few days.” She tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps I shall insist that Thomas join us, after all, you and Frederick are on your honeymoon.”

Before Andrea could say another word, the Dowager Duchess swept away from her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She rubbed a hand across her chest, the fullness not quite as overwhelming as it had been.

“A real marriage.” She muttered to herself, her heart speeding up at the words. “Is it… Could it even be possible?”

She shook her head. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when she realised that the thought of caring for Frederick of that care deepening into something more, did not scare her.

What am I going to do now?

* * *

“You have been rather quiet this evening.” Frederick’s voice jerked Andrea back to the present.

They were in the dining room having just sat down for dinner. The Dowager Duchess had been true to her word and convinced Thomas to journey with her to Cecily’s father’s estate. All afternoon, Andrea had wrestled with her feelings and conversation with the woman.

She swallowed as she looked up into Frederick’s concerned face. “I am just tired.”

“I suppose we were up rather late.” Frederick grinned at her, his smile making her heart flutter wildly in her chest.

“Indeed.” Andrea agreed, smiling back at him.

“I am just grateful that grandmother did not say anything to upset you. I know… Well, I know she can be rather eccentric.” He sheepishly ate some of his beef. “With all this rain, it is fortunate they left when they did. I still cannot believe she convinced Elington to accompany her.”

Andrea seized upon the topic like a lifeline. Perhaps some distance will help me get my head on straight. “Actually, I was thinking of going to visit Cecily myself.”

Frederick paused with a forkful of potato half way to his mouth. “Oh – when?”

“Tomorrow.” She took a bite of her own beef. “The rain will probably stopped by then and well, it would be nice to see her.”

“The roads will be covered in mud, and it will be a long walk, even if it is not still raining.” Frederick frowned at her.

“Well, then, I shall ride out.” Andrea shrugged and sipped on her wine.

Frederick jerked in his seat, his voice cold. “No.”

His tone caught Andrea off guard. It set her teeth on edge, the harshness of it sounding too much like her father for comfort. She took a deep breath. He is not your father. He is Frederick.

“No? What do you mean no?” she tried to keep her voice neutral, but there was a distinct edge to her voice.

Frederick met her eyes, his tone only slightly softer. “You cannot ride out to see Cecily, not after a storm like this.”

Andrea glanced out of the window, rain was battering against it but it was hardly the worst storm she had seen. She swallowed as every hair on her body stood on end. “This is barely a storm. I see no reason why I should not ride out to see my friend.”

“If you get caught in the rain you will catch your death of cold.” There was a catch in Frederick’s voice as he gulped a large swallow of wine. “You have no idea what the weather will be like tomorrow, and if you ride out, you will be exposed.”

“Then I will just take the carriage instead. I will be protected from the elements.” She nodded to herself.

“No, you will not.” She thought she saw Frederick stiffen.

Andrea gritted her teeth, trying to understand what was going on. All she had wanted to do was to leave, and he was acting like she was running away. Perhaps that is what he fears.

“I am not going to run away –” Andrea began but the Duke let out a frustrated growl.

“- will you leave it alone!” Frederick glared at her. “I have already told you, no. That is final. You will not visit Cecily tomorrow. You will not ride out and you definitely will not take the carriage.”

“I am your wife, not your servant. You do not get to order me around, that was not our agreement.” She narrowed her eyes at him. I will not obey you.

Her father’s face filled her mind. That was what men were really like. They were all the same. Even the nice ones just want to control you. Her heart twisted itself into a tight knot.

“Congratulations, Andrea. You wanted to push me, to needle me, well here you go.” Frederick snapped, flinging his napkin on the table. “I hope you are happy.”

He stormed away from the table without another word, leaving Andrea gaping after him in stunned silence. He is trying to control me.

She replayed the conversation, the way he had stiffened almost as soon as she had mentioned leaving the estate. She remembered all the times her father had sneered at her plans, had kept her from doing the things she wanted. She’d had a bellyful of that sort of control.

“Never again.” She threw her own napkin on the table and stalked to her room.

She was going to see Cecily, and if the Duke did not like it, then that was his problem.