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He frowned, wondering whether Charlotte planned to schedule the daily interactions with their children. It wasn’t at all the sort of life he wanted for his sons or daughters.
‘There is no need for a formal hour,’ he said. ‘You may speak with me whenever you wish.’
‘It wouldn’t be an intrusion? I know you have many duties, and I wouldn’t want to bother you.’
Once again, she seemed intent on keeping their lives separate. Was that truly how she’d been raised? Did she believe that husbands and wives spent so little time together?
‘As my duchess, I would expect you to inform me of any developments with the household that I should be aware of. And we will take all our meals together each day.’
‘Oh, that’s not necessary. Once a week will be sufficient.’
Once a week? Before he could argue, Charlotte chose her seat at the opposite end of the dining room. Though he supposed it was the correct seat for a duchess, it felt awkward and uncomfortable having her so far away. For a moment, she studied the dining room, and he grew self-conscious of the missing paintings he’d sold. There were discoloured spaces on the walls revealing where they’d once hung. The one he missed the most was the portrait of his mother. Although Charlotte said nothing about the empty spaces, it was clear that she’d noticed.
The first course arrived, and she ate her soup in silence. He waited for her to speak, but she said nothing at all. Then the second course arrived, and it was the same. Not a word.
‘Is the food to your liking?’ he asked finally.
‘Yes, of course.’ She smiled at him.
When the third course came, he’d had enough of the silence. Alaric picked up his plate and walked down to sit beside her.
Her eyes widened. ‘Your Grace, is something wrong?’
His gaze narrowed upon her. ‘Do you truly enjoy a meal with no conversation?’
She took a breath. ‘I…don’t know… My family and I—we don’t talk during our meals.’
‘Then I am adding another rule,’ he told her. ‘At every meal, we will converse.’ He didn’t at all like the idea of her being silenced by her family.
‘Once a week,’ she countered.
He tilted his head. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Every meal, every day is not necessary. We can dine together once a week. And during that meal, we will both converse, if you’d like.’
Once a week? Was she still insisting on that?
‘At least one meal each day,’ he pushed back.
She set her fork down and regarded him with a mysterious smile. ‘One meal twice a week.’
‘Two meals every day.’ He crossed his arms and sent her his most intimidating stare.
She had the gall to laugh at him. ‘You’re not supposed to increase your demands, Your Grace.’
‘I can do as I wish. I am the Duke of Severn.’
‘And I will become your duchess,’ she said softly. But she didn’t retreat a single inch. With a smile, she added, ‘I believe one of my marriage rules could be that you will not interfere in my daily duties.’
He didn’t know quite what to say, but on her face he saw a mischievous smile. It made him wonder exactly what sort of marriage this was going to become.
Chapter Three
Rule 3: We will dine together at least once a day and converse.
It was snowing on the morning of her wedding. Charlotte stared at the fat snowflakes drifting down outside while she waited in her carriage outside the chapel of St James’s Piccadilly. The spire had a large clock upon it, and the windows were tall and arched.
No expense had been spared on the wedding. Her dressmaker had copied the design of Miss Catherine Tylney-Long, and Charlotte wore a cream satin gown trimmed with Brussels lace and a long wedding veil. Her pelisse and muff were made of the softest fur, and on her feet she wore delicate white slippers.
