Page 27 of The Duke’s Spinster Bride (A Duke’s Game #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“P erhaps this was not the most sensible idea.” Frederick gave her an amused smile as they reached their London house.

Andrea grinned at him, stumbling slightly as the world unhelpfully rocked around her. It had made their walk home from the opera far harder than it needed to be, even if it had given her a rather good excuse to be close to Frederick.

The door to the house loomed in front of them and she frowned. She could not remember the steps to their front door being quite so steep. Nor could she remember them being so mobile.

She heard Frederick chuckle beside her and looked up at him, throwing one arm out towards the banister to steady herself as the world shifted suddenly.

“Why are you laughing at me?” She chewed on her lip.

Frederick arched an eyebrow at her. The way the moonlight hit his eyes made them entrancing. He has no right to have such pretty eyes. She had not realised that she had reached towards his face, until he caught her hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on her palm.

“Because you are drunk.” His eyes danced with mischief.

Her heart fluttered in her chest and she wagged her finger at him. “No – you are drunk. I am perfectly slober. Sober.”

“Very slober, clearly.” Frederick shook his head, but Andrea could see the mirth in his eyes.

Or at least, she thought she could. It was hard to tell when he kept moving from side to side. It made it seem as if there were two of him.

The thought made her giggle. Two Fredericks. “Yes. I am the soberest woman alive.”

She took a step forwards to illustrate her point and was betrayed when the floor seemed to jump out of her way. Her foot met only air, and she stumbled forwards.

The smell of amber and wine washed over her as she felt Frederick wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her to her feet and keeping her from falling face first onto the treacherous steps. She giggled again.

“You are always catching me. It is sweet. Like when you snuck the wine into the opera.” She leaned against him, remembering they had giggled like naughty children as they had drunk the bottle in their private box. “You are sweet. Very sweet. Like… Like a cake. Oh! We could have cake!”

She launched herself towards the door or rather, she attempted to, but found herself unable to move. She frowned and looked down, realising the Frederick still had his arms around her.

“Not so fast, Duchess. We need to get up the stairs first.” He gestured to the stairs in front of them.

She shuddered. “I do not like the stairs. They are tricksy.”

Frederick laughed and jerked his head towards the door, slipping an arm behind Andrea’s back as they moved forwards. “Well, if you want cake, we shall have to brave them.”

“Perhaps you could bring the cake here.” She swayed away from him, leaning over his arm as far as she could, pretending she was a dancer and he was dipping her. He is so strong.

She jerked herself forwards as the world spun faster, and collided with the warmth of his chest. She shifted in his embrace, smiling up at him as her coat kept trying to slip off her shoulders. Why can I not see my hands?

“I think it would be much better to bring you to the cake. Just think, the house will be nice and toasty.” Frederick’s voice reverberated through his chest.

She looked up at him, frowning. “I am not cold.”

“Well, I am.” Frederick replied.

Andrea squinted her eyes, trying to bring the two Frederick’s swimming before her into one. The fine white of his shirt rustled in the cool night breeze. “That is because you do not have a coat on.”

Realisation hit her and she clapped a hand to her mouth, wriggling to move back in the direction they had just come from. “Oh no! Did we leave your coat behind?”

“You are wearing it, remember? You were cold so I leant it to you.” She felt herself being lifted into the air and flung her arms wide. Her feet touched solid ground a moment later and she found herself looking into Frederick’s amused face.

“That would explain why I cannot see my hands.” She held them in front of her, watching as the large coat sleeves fell down to her elbows.

“Probably.” Frederick agreed, fiddling with something she could not see. “Now let’s get you inside.”

“But outside is so pretty.” She gestured to the starlit sky above them.

She heard something click behind her. “And inside is warm.”

“You go. I am tired and I do not like the stairs.” Andrea shuddered.

“Then it is a good thing we are at the top of them.”

“What? When did that happen?” Andrea whirled around, feeling Frederick’s muscles tighten as he held her in place.

Sure enough, somehow they had come to the top of the stairs. Triumph bloomed to life in her chest and she stuck her tongue out at the stairs before turning to beam at Frederick. “You are magic!”

“And now I know you are drunk.” He lead her into the corridor and shut the door behind them. “You are being far too nice to me to be sober.”

“I do not need to be drunk to be nice to you.” She braced herself against the wall. “Though I do wish the world would stop swaying quite so much. It makes it rather difficult to walk.”

“I think we should get you to bed.” Frederick murmured as she guided her through the corridor.

Andrea let herself be led by him, letting her fingers trace against the cool wood of the halls. It was so smooth. Soothing in its texture.

She began to hum softly to herself until Frederick made a shushing motion. She narrowed her eyes at him and poked him in the chest.

“Do not shush me! I am your wife.” She straightened up.

“We must be quiet, we would not want to wake the servants, would we?” He whispered to her.

“Oh! Yes. That would be rude!” Andrea nodded enthusiastically.

Frederick gave her an exasperated look. “That is not quiet.”

“I am whispering!” She put her hands on her hips, but in doing so lost her balance and stumbled against the wall. Has walking always been this hard?

“No, you are shouting.” Frederick held his fingers to his lips.

Andrea ducked down and tried her best to whisper. “What about now?”

“That is a little better.” He slipped an arm around her as they approached the stairs, and she leaned into the warmth of him.

It helped that he felt so solid when the world around her seemed determined to turn itself to liquid. She breathed in the smell of him. Will I ever get enough of this?

“Nearly there.” Frederick muttered as they neared the top of the stairs. “Just a little further and we can get you all tucked up and in bed.”

“And you could join me.” Andrea traced a finger down his neck.

Frederick caught it and shook his head. “I do not think tonight is the night for that.”

“Why not?” Her cheeks reddened but she flung her arms around Frederick’s neck. “Do you not want to?”

Frederick gently slipped from her grasp, shaking his head. “You are far too drunk for that, dear lady.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Perhaps if you kiss me, I will sober up.”

“I think it best to save our kisses til the morning.”

“Or you could kiss me now and kiss me again in the morning. Please?”

He kissed her forehead. “That is all you are getting until you sober up.”

“That seems mean.”

“I have been called worse things.” Frederick grinned at her. “Though I suppose trying to wrestle you into bed is rather good practice for the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it is a little like dealing with a toddler. Albeit, a very tall, very strong toddler.”

“I am not a child.”

“No, but you are drunk, and the two things are rather indistinguishable from one another.”

“Children should not drink.”

“No they should not. And you should perhaps drink a little less.”

“I can do what I want.”

“And you have just proved my point. This is excellent practice for when we have children of our own.”

Andrea inhaled sharply. Her blood ran cold as she looked up at him. Her father’s parting words bursting into her mind. You killed your mother. What kind of mother do you think a wretch like you would be?

“Children?” Andrea breathed. “You want children?”

“Not right now, of course. We have already established you are far too drunk for that. But some day.” He turned towards her and frowned apparently just realising how still she had become. “Why?”

You will never be happy. Her father’s eyes glinted in her mind. She clutched at her chest. Where had the air gone? Why was it so hard to breathe?

“Andrea? Are you all right?” Frederick’s eyes widened as she faced her. “Do you need to be sick? I can fetch a chamber pot – just.”

“I do not want children.” The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them.

Frederick arched an eyebrow at her, bemusement clear on his face. “That is okay. As I said, it is not something we need to think about just yet, there is plenty of time still.”

She shook her head, but it only made the world around her feel more fuzzy, more confusing. Swallowing, she closed her eyes and said, “I… I am not sure I want to be a mother.”

In the darkest corner of her mind, she swore she heard her father laughing.