Page 7 of The Virgin Duchess (Unwanted Brides #2)
Chapter Four
B reakfast had always been a favorite meal of Frederick’s. He’d spend many a morning at the table downstairs speaking to his father, planning the next move for his business ventures, and even enjoyed a number of them with Richard, his best friend and Duke of Blacksford.
This morning’s breakfast, however, would not be the same.
He needed to track down the whereabouts of the Baron of Halfacre. Because despite what others might think, particularly Charlotte, he’d not killed the man or stashed him away somewhere. In fact, it was that very woman—who was now his wife—that prevented him from doing something truly sinister.
Charlotte…
His new bride was a fascinating specimen. Frederick could not make heads or tails of his feelings whenever she was around. It was true that she infuriated him; her bold language and demeanor were nothing he’d seen before. Still, it was also true that the woman was…intriguing.
Objectively, she was lovely, and Frederick had to admit that she was quite to his personal liking. The striking color of her hair—a warm, deep brown that shone gold in the sunlight—and the soft dimples that framed her smile haunted his thoughts.
She was a distraction, and Frederick should have taken her refusal to bed him at face value and moved on. There was no need for this ridiculous ploy of his. Seven nights spent wooing a woman was a stretch even for him.
And still, he could not be brought to end the deal.
The hinges on his door squeaked as he pulled it closed behind him. Frederick hurried down the steps to the breakfast room to dine as quickly as he could.
That bastard will not slip from my grasp.
As he pushed into the breakfast room, Frederick sputtered, his steps faltering. Charlotte was already seated at the table with Rose seated down at the other side.
“Why, dear sister, it appears that I am not the first to join you for breakfast this morning.”
Frederick glanced from Rose to Charlotte, noting the creeping pink that suffused her pale skin. His presence made his wife nervous, and he hated to admit that there was a persistent part of him that imagined that color and how far down his wife’s graceful form it went.
Rose cleared her throat, his sister clearly unhappy with the current arrangement, and glared at him.
“And what have I done now to so upset you, dear Rose?” Frederick smiled as he took a seat across from Charlotte at the head of the table.
Swallowing, Rose’s eyes immediately dropped to the table, and she began to distract herself by rearranging the contents of her plate. Frederick was aware that his sister felt uneasy about so much of their current situation, and his need to go out and find the Baron intensified.
Silence hung persistently in the air as one of the servants poured Frederick a cup of coffee, and he began to spread warmed butter across a bit of bread. Rose hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to him at a time for weeks now. He’d told her before that he would see to the situation, but tension still crowded the space between them, thicker than it ever had.
I have to speak with her. But I can’t exactly go to her now in front of Charlotte, and the Baron is the chief priority .
When Frederick looked up from his plate, his wife was trading glances between the brother and sister. It was clear that she noticed the strained relationship, and Frederick stuffed the bread into his mouth to keep himself from blurting out something he would regret.
The remainder of Rose’s meal played out how they all had since Frederick had been tasked to ensure her honor. When she’d hurriedly finished, he glanced up at her as she rushed from the table, likely returning to her bedroom.
“Why is it that even your sister appears uneasy at your presence?” He cast a glance at Charlotte, her voice like a knife through the quiet that at once he thoroughly missed. “Does your roguish nature affect even your family so effectively?”
Were his silverware not made of exceptionally fine material, Frederick would have bent the fork in his grasp clean in half. As it was, he ground his molars together so firmly that his jaw ached. It took every ounce of resolve to stop himself from launching a severe cut in his wife’s direction. Though he did allow himself to glare.
“Do not speak to matters to which you are not familiar, Charlotte. What goes on between me and my sister is my concern. Not yours.”
His wife’s glare was a tangible slice he could feel drag across his flesh. She said nothing, turning back to her plate to continue munching on her bit of jam and bread. It continued that way for several more minutes before Charlotte broke the tense silence yet again.
“Well, husband , am I free to explore the estate? To go about the business that was arranged prior to our little agreement? Or am I to remain trapped in the house like your sister?”
Without thinking, Frederick pushed out of his seat and walked down the length of the table to Charlotte. He stood before her, leaning forward into her space as he smashed a fist down on the table. She jumped, and the skittish way that she looked up at him…did something to him—something that Frederick would have very much liked to ignore but was unable to.
“You simply cannot let a moment go by without firing your verbal arrows at me, can you?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, cutting off her stumbling syllables. “As I am your husband, Charlotte , it is for me to determine how your day might be spent should you not be taking care of the manor. Perhaps then it would be wise if you regarded me with the level of respect I deserve?”
Her chocolatey brown eyes met his, and Frederick forced his breathing to remain even. She did not back down under the weight of his presence. Stubborn and defiant as he’d ever known her to be, the woman only narrowed her stare the slightest bit before a tiny smirk tilted up the corner of her mouth.
“Do I so get beneath your skin, Your Grace? Interesting.” She sat up straighter, crowding into his space as he had hers. “I feel then I must remind you that it is not only myself who has a stake in this arrangement. We have agreed to mutual silence. It would be a shame if I let something slip .”
Frederick should have been furious. He should have been consumed with the thought of putting his wife in her place, going so far as to punish her if necessary. But the only thoughts swirling in his mind were far more carnal and intimate than even he would have expected. Distancing himself from a woman had actually been quite easy for him, reputation to the contrary. That was all a ruse, a way to keep eyes off him because he’d never wanted marriage and everything that went along with it.
Charlotte was different. He could not ignore her, and every moment in her presence made his skin hum with invisible fire.
He smirked back at her, lowering himself all the more until he was but a few inches from kissing her.
“Quite the negotiator, aren’t you?” Charlotte’s skin deepened with a delightful pink blush, and Frederick stirred beneath his slacks. “I suppose I must allow you to go about your business then, am I not?”
She didn’t retreat or avert her stare, holding her ground with a simple nod.
“Ah, well then. I shall permit you to do as you wish,” he began to stand up but then quickly darted close to Charlotte again, surprising her, “however, I expect you to return in time for supper.”
Charlotte’s brow creased in the center, and she shook her head before glaring up at him once more.
“Supper?”
“Yes, dearest.” Frederick grinned, sly as a wolf and laced with charm. “Our first of the seven promised nights begins this evening. And I will not have you late for it.”
Before Charlotte could add in another retort, Frederick straightened, smoothed his hands down the front of his waistcoat, and then turned on his heel toward the door. He exited without another word, the sound of his shoes hitting the hardwood floor clicking as a loud period at the end of this particular sentence.
Part of Frederick wanted to stay, to tease that impetuous woman for the entirety of the day. Still, he had a Baron to catch, and that task could not wait.