“N-no,” she stammered, not looking at him. “I was too nervous. I didn’t have an appetite”
He wanted to know if she always skipped breakfast, but he bit the words back.Don’t spook her. She’s already scared enough.
And as he helped her into the carriage that would take them to their wedding breakfast, generously hosted at the Duke of Eavestone’s house, he was glad he’d said nothing. She was fidgety and nervous—looking all around throughout the ride, and he was sure that whatever it was that frightened her into skipping meals would only be made worse if he confronted it head-on. He’d have to get to the bottom of it another way.
Unless it’s you she fears. The thought seized him with a cold, aching fear.And then there’s nothing you can do.
Chapter Five
“Please, make yourself at home.”
The Duke’s words sounded cold and impersonal, even if they were technically welcoming. Rosalie glanced up at him as she stepped into the hall of her new home. She had never been to the Duke’s residence before, and she couldn’t help but look around with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.
The hall was beautiful, cavernous with high ceilings and lots of light. The floors were white marble set with large, tropical plants in the corners, giving it a jungle-like feel she had never seen before in a house. The wainscoting on the walls was painted white, above which were French scenic papers of an idyllic countryside. There was also a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling that glinted off the afternoon sunlight that was filtering in through the large bay windows, casting rainbows of color throughout.
“It’s beautiful,” she said tentatively. “The paintings are… unusual.”
Most houses she knew had stuffy oil portraits of previous lords and ladies who had lived in the grand residences. But the paintings the Duke had decided to fill the hall were watercolors in a variety of styles, all depicting lush, exotic landscapes.
“I purchased them when I was in the Army,” the Duke said, coming to stand in front of one of several high mountains. “When I was stationed in different locations around North Africa and India.”
“I like them,” Rosalie said. She was no expert in art, but she could appreciate the delicate color schemes and careful control of texture and lines.
The Duke looked at her with something akin to suspicion, and she flushed.
“I’m not just trying to flatter you,” she stated flatly, and the corner of his mouth twitched.Was he trying to smile?
“I didn’t imagine that you were,” he replied, bowing. “I know you well enough to know that you always speak your mind.”
She couldn’t think of anything to say to this. It almost seemed like a compliment.
“May I see my room?” she asked instead. “I’m eager to rest.”
“Of course,” he said brusquely, his cold manner returning at once. He handed his cane and hat to the butler and then strode to the stairs. Rosalie followed tentatively. Usually, the housekeeper would show her to her bedroom, and it felt foreboding that it was her husband who led the way up the stairs. They had not discussed their wedding night yet.
“Here you are,” he said, when they finally stopped outside of a door in the family wing of the house. “This is the former Duchess’ room. It has been redecorated for your comfort. I will let you rest now.”
Rosalie was a bit surprised. She had been expecting him to come in with her, but she was relieved that he wasn’t.
Maybe he means to come later?The thought filled her with dread.
He pushed open the door to the room and stood back to let her inside. She moved past him, careful not to brush against him, and then had to hold in a gasp.
The walls had been decorated with a pale pink wallpaper stamped with delicate gold filigree flowers. The large four-poster bed had a canopy of gauzy white curtains. The vanity was made of white marble, and the mirror atop it was also gilded in gold. There was a writing desk in another corner and next to it, bookshelves filled with books.
It wasn’t just that it was beautiful. It was that it looked exceedingly similar to the room she had lived in at her cousin’shouse although more luxurious. Best of all, her suitcases had been set near the vanity which meant she would have all her things with her in her new home.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered as she stepped deeper into the room. “And it makes this whole place feel a little bit less alien.”
She turned, about to thank the Duke for such a lovely room, but he had gone, leaving the door just ajar. She frowned then stepped forward and shut the door, locking it quickly.
He can’t join me later if I don’t let him in, she reasoned although she felt a touch of guilt even as she thought it.
Before she threw herself on the bed and curled into herself, she went to the bookshelf. To her astonishment—and surprise—it had been filled with all her books.
Lord Carfield must have sent them! I told him he could keep them for his personal collection, that it was too inconvenient to send them, but he must not have listened!
And not only were the shelves filled with her books, but there were others whose titles she recognized that she had been planning to read.
