His grey eyes flared wide and then narrowed. “It matters. What people think matters. At leastpretendto be on good terms.”
“If you were a touch more polite, then perhaps it would not be necessary to pretend.”
The duke stared at her. His gaze widened again, his mouth compressing. Rosalyn stiffened, frightened by his sudden cold temper. Her own boldness frightened her almost as much.
He said nothing. Nor did she. The only sound that she could hear was the wild thudding of her own heart. She stood beside him, focusing intently on Sebastian, whom she spotted a few paces away, chatting with her sisters. She tried to ignore the duke, whose chilly presence was like a statue made from ice. She shivered at his coldness.
He stepped into the line beside her, and she stopped breathing as he took her hand. His fingers were firm around hersin the silk opera gloves she wore; his grip strong. She shivered, his touch racing up her nerves like fire.
As the hosts, he and his mother and sister would enter the room last. People were gazing their way, some nodding in approval, some disapproving, and she focused on the back of the person standing in front of her, cheeks flaming.
“Do you like dinner balls?” the duke asked. Rosalyn squinted up at him in disbelief. He had ignored her almost entirely during his visit to Cranfield—except to inquire about their breeding program—and during the dance he had made no effort whatever to converse. Now, suddenly, he was attempting to talk to her.
“I have little experience of them,” Rosalyn admitted, deciding to be honest.
She glanced sideways up at the duke. His face was expressionless, but a small muscle near his mouth was jumping, almost as though he was trying to suppress amusement. Her heart leapt at the thought that he might smile. But his expression did not change.
“I find them tiresome,” he said.
Rosalyn blinked and tried to think of something to say. “I imagine this one will not be unpleasant,” she said slowly. “After all, it is only friends and acquaintances.” She watched his expression. His mouth compressed again, as though in disagreement.
“Some of them, yes,” he said enigmatically.
Rosalyn was going to inquire about what he meant, but then they were slowly moving in through the big doors to the dining room and she lost her chance to ask him what he meant.
The room was hot. That was the first thing Rosalyn noticed. A fire burned in the grate and the candles were all lit. They made the room almost as bright as daylight. The second thing that she noticed was that everyone else was seated. All the guests—forty pairs of eyes—were focused on her and the duke.
Rosalyn’s hands sweated, her feet almost refusing to obey her and follow the duke. Her stomach was a tight knot, and she felt nauseous. Her gaze moved swiftly to the floor again as she followed the duke across the room to the head of the table. There was one seat left—the one on his right. She went and sat in it, cheeks burning with awkwardness.
On her left, the duke was sitting straight, staring down the table towards the butler. He inclined his head to the fellow, who in turn summoned the footmen forward to start serving the meal. Rosalyn gazed down at the plate in front of her and wished that she could blend in with the wallpaper. The dowager duchess sat opposite her—given the peculiar circumstances, where neither Rosalyn nor the dowager could claim the title of duchess in the current household, neither took the seat at the foot of the table opposite the duke. The dowager duchess’ gaze on her was icy and assessing.
Rosalyn kept her eyes on her plate, ignoring the scrutiny.
Footmen moved around the room, dishing out the first course, which was soup. Rosalyn nodded her head in gratitude to the footman who filled her dish. They all sat waiting for the entire company to receive their soup before beginning to eat. Rosalyn risked a glance down the table. Papa was sitting a few seats down from the duchess and his eye caught hers. He smiled supportively. Rosalyn smiled shyly back. Beside Papa, Sebastian sat. Rosalyn grinned at him. Lady Harriet, the duke’s sister, was sitting beside him.
Sebastian beamed at her, and she fought the urge to laugh. He had no qualms about openly admiring the young woman, and she had to be impressed by that.
“A fine soup,” the duke murmured. Rosalyn glanced sideways, wondering if he had meant that comment to be for her to hear. She inclined her head.
“Yes, it is very fine,” she replied. She looked up to find the duchess staring at her icily and she decided she would not make any further remarks but remain silent.
At least saying nothing might be better than saying the wrong thing,she thought sadly.
She ate her soup, conscious of the duke’s gaze on her. It darted to her now and again, drifting away when she looked up at him. She frowned. She could not understand him at all. He behaved as though she was a nuisance, as though dancing with her or talking to her was a tiresome obligation and yet his eyes wandered to her often during the meal.
The soup was replaced with a fish dish, and then a roast, complete with baked potatoes and glazed vegetables. Rosalyn, who usually ate fairly informally, was starting to feel nauseous. She glanced across the table and froze.
A man was staring at her.
The man had thick chestnut hair and a long, narrow face. He wore a dark blue velvet tailcoat and a simple cravat, and he seemed pleasant enough. He was seated beside a brown-haired lady with a pretty face. He seemed fairly handsome. It was his eyes that troubled her. His gaze on her was not simply inquiring, nor mildly interested. It was a stare so intense and unwavering that she shivered.
“Do you favour trifle?” the duke asked her. Rosalyn blinked as his words jolted her out of her thoughts. It took her a moment to discern what he was asking.
“Um...I like most desserts,” she answered quickly. “But I am afraid I could not eat another thing.”
The duke did not exactly smile, but his lips tilted at the corners and his eyes seemed less wintry somehow.
“I am likewise sated,” he said, inclining his head. “I will be glad to make my way to the billiards room.”
