Daphne frowned. “Why?” She leaned closer to him and asked smartly, “Must you preserve your voice so that you are able to sing a tune later?”
She was surprised by the playfulness of her question the moment it popped from her lips, but she was rewarded for making the effort when a wry grin stole over the Duke’s face.
“I will not sing… not tonight, at any rate.”
Feeling heartened by this response, Daphne persisted. “Then, why do you use your voice sparingly?”
“I have learned, while conducting business, that it is best to speak only when I can capture the attention of all those assembled.”
“Ah,” she said, thinking back to her conversation with her family about how Wolfcrest earned his income. “Your business ventures. You take those seriously then? I mean, you only speak to your business associates when it is necessary to assert yourself?”
“You could say that, I suppose,” he said, his eyes luminous under the carriage lamp. It was still early, but it had gotten dim outside.
“Are you being purposively cryptic, Your Grace?” she asked.
The man certainly knew how to make her heart race excitedly. Whereas moments ago, she’d been twisting her gloved fingers together, now she was leaning toward him, pulling answers from her new husband.
“Am I?” he asked, again bouncing back the question toward her. “Or are you the one who is afraid to ask what you truly want to know?”
“What do I wish to know?” she asked, realizing that she was playing his game.
His eyes studied her for a long second. She wished that she could maintain her composure equally well, but now that they had traveled this far together, her curiosity could not be concealed. She wished to know something about her companion before they reached their destination.
Knowing that he would not crack or bother to answer the question she had slung back at him, she dared to share what was truly on her mind.
“Perhaps, I want to know why Briarwood is afraid of you. If you were just another man, he would have found a way to intimidate you. Many times, Briarwood made it clear that he would not cower before my brother. So, why? Why did he back away rather than fight with you?”
“It looks like you are not holding back!” he exclaimed, his voice sounding delighted—but his eyes became hooded. Guarded.
“It looks like you can handle it.”
He grinned then.
“Did you just flirt with me, wife?” he asked, teasingly.
She blushed, partly because she suspected she probably did and was not even aware of it. “No.” She was flustered. “I did not mean to flirt with you, Your Grace. You, however, need to answer my question.”
“Mm. Briarwood is a wild card. I was shocked to hear the way he spoke to your brother,” Wolfcrest said. “But I am not your brother, the young Marquess, and you are right. Briarwood cannot intimidate me.”
“But what about my brothers-in-law?” Daphne ventured. “They are all…”
“Lately, I have sought to make myself aware of you and your family’s situation. It has not escaped my notice that your brothers-in-law are powerful, being Dukes themselves. But rest assured, I have power that goes beyond—beneath—theton.”
“Like Lord Briarwood, then,” she remarked.
“To a certain degree,” he replied.
“Have you committed any crimes?” she asked, genuinely curious.
She was thinking about his men, the ones who seemed like they would do anything. Then, she thought about how Briarwood, a man with his own questionable connections, feared her new husband.
Daphne did not expect the question to have such an effect on Wolfcrest. The Duke stiffened at the mention of crimes.
“Do you want to see me as a villain, wife? Do you truly want to paint me with the same brush as a scoundrel like Briarwood?” he asked gruffly.
“Oh, no, no,” Daphne protested. “I am grateful that you stepped in and offered to marry me.”
The Duke leaned in closer to her once more, looking her in the eye then he said, “Men like Briarwood should be taught a lesson. He had no right to impose upon you as he did. I take delight in showing him the error of his ways.”
