“There was no need to explain. You know what they must be thinking. It all fits too neatly in their minds; I was the woman who followed every rule and still did not secure a husband. Then came a man who hounded me, whose attention everyone noticed, whose name they whispered with mine. They waited for the scandal to break. And when I disappeared for a short while, only to return as a Duke’s wife… Tell me, what would you think, if you were in their place?”
Adrian’s first response was to tighten his grip on her waist. It was bordering on inappropriate, and she knew he did not care. Perhaps she should just stop caring. After all, no matter what she did, people would still see her the way they wanted to see her.
“Listen to me, Daphne,” he said, his voice roughened to a growl, his eyes burned into hers, unblinking. “You are the Duchess of Wolfcrest. You belong to me. In name, in protection, in every way that matters. If anyone dares to touch you, to slander you, to even breathe ill of you, they will learn exactly how vicious theWolf can become when provoked. And I assure you, Duchess… they will regret it.”
How could a slow waltz create so much tension between them? It was like they were right on the edge, within the eye of a storm. His declaration pushed the boundaries of their cold arrangement.
She knew it.
Of course, he knew it, too.
The Wolf might be surrounded by various stories, but one thing never changed. He was always portrayed as a shrewd man, darkly intelligent. She knew that they were right about that.
Daphne fell quiet then, letting the music move them to new heights.
When the music ended, Adrian guided her toward a dramatic flourish. Then, he led her off the dance floor, his hand not leaving the small of her back. It was a man who needed no permission.
He was her husband, after all, and he declared that he owned her. Normally, she would balk against such a declaration, but she did not mind it.
Not at all.
As they walked toward the edge of the room, Daphne focused on not swaying. She still felt dizzy, not just because of the dance but from all the emotions he invoked from her in such a short period of time.
Surprise. Outrage. Fascination. Desire.
She took a deep breath as she stomped on an unwanted feeling that kept threatening to rise. She had to remind herself that her husband was merely protecting his territory. His property. Men took pride in not just their estates but also their wives. Whether or not he felt something for her, people would always associate her with him. He simply could not allow anyone else to hurt her feelings.
As they neared the exit, Adrian paused. They exchanged a glance. In that moment, she saw something vulnerable in her.
Gone was the cold, possessive Duke in that moment.
No. She should not look at him like that. He was protecting himself from the possible shame of people talking about his wife.
Chapter Fourteen
Adrian might have defended her and danced with her, but when he entered the carriage, he was back to his cold formality. Once again, he retreated behind his walls.
You belong to me… in every way that matters.
His words still had the power to make her shiver even though the man who sat across from her had become like stone. Even in his silence and chilly demeanor, he still held an intensity no other person she had ever met held.
Daphne thought about how this man made her see stars and touched her where she needed to be touched. Then, he retreated so far away as if they could never achieve a middle ground and locked the door between their rooms every night.
Arriving at the Wolfcrest townhouse made the chill bite against her more. She might not be as talkative as Wilhelmina or Victoria, but the silent tension would eventually kill her.
A full week passed with the kind of silent tension she dreaded. The Duke spent his days in his study, possibly balancing his ledgers. Sometimes, a solicitor would come. On other days, men who managed his properties arrived. They would give her a quick polite greeting and head off to Adrian’s study. Her husband had closed the door to his life against her.
Some nights, he would leave with his coachman in one of his carriages. The wheels would rattle away. Then, near daybreak, she’d hear him back. It was getting out of hand. There were now dark circles around her eyes, reflected by the large mirror he especially brought for her.
“I believe we need to make more changes with the color,” she said, as she refocused on managing the Wolfcrest manors and townhouses.
“Any particular idea, Your Grace?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.
“Nothing, really, but I want the place to be less gloomy. More welcoming. I know we don’t really organize balls. That is not His Grace’s way, but it can become the future of Wolfcrest. What do you think, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Your Grace. We may need some more yellows and pinks, if I may so boldly recommend?”
“Mm. We can find patterns and designs to use. The colors do sound more inviting. If you must know, Mrs. Fletcher, my mother trained me to be agreeable to others, but that does not mean I like catering to a crowd. Yet…”
