Page 29

Meredith awoke alone. It was not a great surprise, but rather a big disappointment. Her mouth set in a thin line as she lay in the bedchamber flooded with morning sunshine, trying to decide if she should take breakfast in her bedchamber or brave the dining room.

Eating in the dining room would increase the chances of seeing her husband. It would also increase the chances of seeing her new father-in-law.

Deciding there was really no way to achieve one goal without facing the consequences of the other, Meredith rang for her maid. She did not linger over her morning toilet, but took care to select one of her more flattering gowns, a simple muslin creation of sapphire blue that set off her eyes.

Once Rose had helped her dress, Meredith descended the stairs in search of breakfast and mentally prepared herself to tangle with the two new men in her life.

As she expected, the duke was seated at the head of the breakfast table, coffee cup in hand, a newspaper spread across the table. There was no sign of the marquess.

“I had not thought to see you this morning,” the duke exclaimed. “Or even for the rest of today.”

Meredith took a much needed deep breath. “I was hungry and in need of a stroll. I hope you do not object if I join you.”

She stood with her head high and waited for the footman to draw out the chair beside the duke. Her father-in-law seemed startled by her choice of seats and quickly scooped up the paper to make room for the plate of food another servant placed in front of Meredith.

“Take this away, Higgins,” the duke commanded, thrusting the waded sheets toward a footman.

“Oh, please, do not abandon your paper for me.”

The duke eyed her suspiciously for a moment, as if testing her sincerity. He must have reasoned she meant what she said, for he slowly dropped the crumpled mess back onto the mahogany table.

“There’s an announcement of your marriage in the society section,” he said wryly.

Meredith nodded. She spread a thin, even layer of raspberry jam on her toast, then lifted her head. “Trevor must have instructed his secretary yesterday to make sure it was done. The marquess can be extremely efficient in certain matters.”

“When it suits him,” the duke remarked with a frown.

Meredith raised an eyebrow. She felt the duke’s keen gaze upon her. Sensing he was testing her, Meredith refused to rise to the bait. As much as she felt she needed an ally in this house, she was not about to take sides against her husband in the battle with his father.

“Good morning.”

Meredith looked up to see the marquess enter the room.

He was dressed for riding, and the sheen of sweat upon his brow suggested he had already been out putting his mount through its paces.

Meredith cautioned herself not to react.

Though it was rather lowering for a bride to be left for a horse, it was even more disgraceful to let others know she was hurt.

Trevor’s voice and manner were very matter-of-fact, but she could feel the highly coiled impatience in his body as he waved off the eager footman and went to the sideboard to serve himself some breakfast.

“Ah, good morning, Trevor,” the duke called out. “I was just telling Meredith that I did not expect to see either of you today. Or tomorrow. ’Tis your honeymoon!”

Meredith had no idea how these words affected her husband, for he concealed his reaction admirably. And he completely ignored his father’s comments.

Trevor circled around the table to take the chair beside her. Meredith’s skin tingled when Trevor accidentally brushed against her back while taking his seat. Thinking it best not to meet his eyes, she kept her own firmly directed at her plate.

“The butler has informed me that numerous invitations addressed to us have been received this morning,” the marquess said. “Have you had an opportunity to sort through them, Meredith?”

Startled, she glanced up. “No. I have not even seen them.”

The marquess impatiently drummed his fingers upon the table. “I already have plans for this evening that were made weeks before our sudden marriage. I suppose if there are events you wish to attend tonight, I can prevail upon Viscount Aarons or Mr. Doddson to escort you.”

Meredith felt herself flushing, which she particularly hated doing in front of both her husband and father-in-law In an uncharacteristic fit of pique, she decided Lady Anne Smithe was probably never flustered or blushing around her male relations.

“It is hardly necessary for you to fob me off on your friends, my lord. I assure you, I can take care of myself.”

Trevor’s burning eyes suggested he was not pleased by her show of independence, but Meredith was beyond caring. He regarded her with a frown for what felt like an eternity, then finally said, “As you wish.”

It was exactly the opposite of what Meredith wished, but she would cut her tongue out before saying so. The duke looked as if he were bursting to voice his opinion on the matter, but he must have understood the silent plea she cast his way, because he remained quiet.

Trevor’s rejection stung. Yet if the marquess did not want her to be a part of his life, she would not beg for his attention or even demand it. Years of observing males had taught Meredith one very important lesson. Most of them did not react well to being prodded or nagged.

Conversation among them resumed. As befitting the members of a civilized society, they spoke of inconsequential matters in modulated tones, though the tension was thick and oppressive.

When the pile of food from Trevor’s plate had disappeared completely, he rose. “I wish you both a pleasant day. And evening.” He inclined his head and stepped away from the table.

Not trusting her voice, Meredith merely nodded her head. Though she wanted nothing more than to retreat to the privacy of her chambers, she sat and sipped her tea.

“It would seem to me your new husband is not all that interested in spending time in your company.” The duke brushed his linen napkin fleetingly across his mouth. “What are going to do about it?”

I do not know! Those desperate words rattled around in Meredith’s mind, but she refrained from speaking them. It made her feel weak to admit she was so easily defeated. “ ’Tis the fashion for couples to lead separate, independent lives.”

“A day after they are married?” The duke snorted. “So that’s what you are going to do? Close your eyes, grit your teeth, and grimly endure?”

Meredith bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood. “Those who want to survive must learn to adapt, Your Grace.”

“What nonsense,” the duke scoffed. “I thought you had more backbone than that, young lady.”

Meredith’s nostrils flared with indignation. “If memory serves me, there will be an operatic performance of Don Giovanni at the Haymarket this evening. I presume you have a box at the theater?”

“Of course I have a box.” The duke frowned. “Haven’t used it in years, though.”

“That hardly matters. Do you like opera, Your Grace?”

“I never took to it. And I could never understand how a bunch of men and women prancing around on a stage, screeching and carrying on, making enough noise to wake the dead was considered entertaining.”

“Opera is a pure expression of music and emotion,” Meredith insisted, though secretly she thought the duke’s description had merit.

“More importantly, half the ton will be in attendance, ogling each other rather than looking at the stage or listening to the singers. Since I find myself free for the evening, you may accompany me to the performance.”

The duke’s eyes darted to the footman who was clearing the table, then returned to Meredith. “I just told you I cannot abide all that noise they make.”

“Then I shall bring an ample supply of cotton to stuff in your ears to muffle the sound.”

The sputtering sound of the duke’s continued indignation gave Meredith a very small measure of satisfaction as she left the room.