Page 48 of The Scarred Duke's Bride

“Yes ma’am,” Mrs. Beecham nodded.

“Oh…well then let us go and see.”

Mrs. Leigh, the housekeeper, hastened to open the door and lead the way to the drawing room. Freya looked around, trying to envision the place as she might want it. The sofas had been there even before her mother came to live at Stark Manor and had never been refurbished. She had always hated their dull grey color and if it were up to her, she would have chosen cheerful sky blues and white for the room so that it lit up. She hated the red silk Chinese wallpaper as it darkened the room somewhat, and it had faded to a color indistinguishable from the grey of the chairs.

“We shall start with the walls. Tear down the wallpaper and paint the walls white. Then we shall have the furniture replaced with something more cheerful.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Mrs. Leigh said. “Shall I have the footmen begin right away?”

“Yes. Now, if you will excuse me…” She walked out determinedly and went in search of Eric. She could hear his raised voice from the study and headed that way.

What is happening?

She paused at the door, noting that it was slightly ajar, and put her ear to the gap, trying to hear more clearly.

“Are you sure about this, Mr. Green? We have to be absolutely certain before we proceed.”

“Yes sir. I triple-checked it before I brought it to you. It is definitely true.”

“Then we must set up a rendezvous and talk with them before they move.”

“Yes. But sir —”

Eric held up his finger, looking towards the door. Freya tried to move away quickly, but she tripped on the hem of her skirt and almost fell. The door fell open, and Eric stared at her accusingly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I am your wife. I have every right to be here.”

He sneered. “Oh, you have remembered that little bit of information now? This has nothing to do with you. Kindly go about your business.” He closed the door and locked it.

She stared in disbelief. How could he be so cutting with her? Especially since they’d agreed to play up their relationship for Silver. He’d definitely hear of this. Which meant whatever he did not want her to see was of great importance to him if he wanted to keep it so much of a secret from her.

She resolved there and then to find out what it might be.

* * *

“The Dowager Marchioness of Digby has kindly sent us an invitation to her ball that is to take place during the weekend. We are invited to stay over as it is out of town. Isn’t that kind?” Eric said as he read the invitation during breakfast.

Ever since he’d told Freya to mind her own business two days ago, their relationship had been frosty. He felt sorry for it — he had not meant to be so abrupt, but she ignored all his overtures. So, he was glad that they were going to be forced to act as a loving couple for a few days. Perhaps he could talk her around.

Silver seemed pleased by the invitation.

“The Dowager does not invite just anybody to her soirees. You are very fortunate,” he said proudly.

Eric cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised to see the usually solemn butler beaming.

“Indeed,” he said quietly, putting the invitation down. Freya had yet to say a word. To his surprise, it was his mother who asked the obvious question.

“Freya, are you not pleased?”

“Hmm?” she looked up from her plate. “Oh, of course, I am. I was just…preoccupied.”

“William and I will come too, is that not so?” Isabella asked with excitement.

“Of course. We would not leave you here on your own. Heaven knows if there would be a house to come back to if we did,” Eric teased. Freya was still blank-faced.

William gave a derisive snort. “We are not children. We know how to behave.”