Duchess by Chance(8)

“And yet I have no wish to dine with my wife,” Daniel reiterated.

“Your grandmother would be saddened, your Grace.” Luton bowed deeply. “Your wife will be dining in the small dining room if you should have a change of mind.”#p#分页标题#e#

Luton always dragged Daniel’s grandmother into any argument he wasn’t winning. “I will not change my mind.” He dismissed his butler with another hard look.

As the day progressed, visions of his wife having her evening meal on her own filtered through Daniel’s head, until by nightfall they were a permanent fixture. Why he should feel guilt over his wife eating a solitary meal, he had no idea. Many married people did not eat together. In fact, they often lived separate lives and surely other marriages had not started with such tumultuous beginnings as his.

Sighing, he climbed to his feet. I will give her one night, and one night only, he thought as he left the room to change.

“Good evening, your Grace.” Daniel entered the dining room thirty minutes later and moved to take the seat opposite his wife. She stumbled to her feet and sank into an awkward curtsy, listing slightly to the right in her haste, then re-seated herself.

Placing what he hoped was pleasant expression on his face he instructed Luton to bring the first course.

Daniel was pleased that a flower arrangement partially obscured his wife from his line of vision, although he was still afforded a partial view of one side of her face. This consisted of half a matronly white cap into which every lock of her hair had been stuffed, and one eye with a delicately curved eyebrow. Blue, he thought. Her eyes are blue…or were they? It was hard to say in the candlelight. The curve of one cheek was flushed with pink and below there was half a pair of surprisingly full lips and a small chin. Her skin was smooth and he noted a small smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Once again she was wearing a hideous dress, this one in dull grey.

“Wine, your Grace?”

“Thank you,” Daniel said absently as he viewed the ill-shaped bodice. Who the hell was her dressmaker? Or had she been forced to make it herself? He wondered what size - if any - breasts she had. He supposed he would find out soon, or possibly not if they just got down to the business of consummation.

“May I fill your glass also, your Grace?”

“Oh yes. Thank you very much, Luton.”

She had a voice which did not grate on the senses, unlike some he could name.

“I heard you playing the piano, Duchess.”

His words took her by surprise and Daniel watched her fork slip through her fingers to immerse itself in the burgundy sauce nestled between Mrs. Stimpel’s tasty beef and fluffy potatoes.

She muttered what he thought was, “Oh dear.” As Luton deftly passed her a new fork and removed the other with a pair of tongs, she said, “Would your rather I did not play the piano, your Grace?”

“No this is your home now. Make use of whatever you wish.”

“There is a great deal of music in the room. May I also use that?”

“You may.”

He knew she wanted to ask who played the piano in his family and he was intrigued to see if she had the courage to do so.

“Do you play, your Grace?”

“I do not.” Daniel did not give her the answer she sought to see if she would ask a more direct question.

“Potatoes, your Grace?” Luton asked.

Daniel waved his hand to indicate that he would pass on the potatoes, then looked across the table once more. He watched her long, slender fingers pick up a napkin. He now understood how she was able to play the piano so well. They were unadorned and he felt a tug of shame that in his fury he had given her his grandfather’s ugly ring instead of his grandmother’s beautiful ruby. She lifted a mouthful of beef and then licked her lips as a drop of sauce touched them. He was surprised to find the small gesture strangely appealing; perhaps if he kissed her before bedding her Daniel would be able to rake up some enthusiasm for consummating their marriage.#p#分页标题#e#

“Did your mother play, your Grace?”

“Yes.” Daniel did not elaborate, as he had no wish to discuss the matter further and especially not with the woman he had been forced to wed.

“I’m sorry.” She said the words in a rush, almost as if they tasted foul

“For what?”

“That you were forced by your father to marry me.”

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“Tis done, therefore we must make the best of it.” He made his words dismissive, wanting to put an end to the conversation before his simmering anger had a chance to boil.

“Will you take tea in the lemon parlor, your Grace?”