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“I see.”
Dustin wondered if she did. Even he had been astounded this morning by the severity of Trenton’s foul humor, which was darker and more forbidding than usual. Up before the sun and ornery as a wounded bear, Trenton had slammed downstairs, nearly knocking Dustin over on the staircase. He hadn’t spoken two dozen words, but gulped three cups of black coffee, then announced his decision to leave for Spraystone. Given the circumstances, Dustin hadn’t argued. Inwardly, however, he was worried. Not for himself, for he had braved Trenton’s fury more times than he cared to recall. But for Ariana, who, with or without her consent, had doubtlessly become Trenton’s wife last night … in fact as well as name. Dustin only prayed that Trenton had retained enough common sense not to hurt his innocent new duchess. Still, Dustin intended to be there when Ariana arose, to see for himself that she was unharmed.
Studying her now, he could see that his concerns were unfounded. Obviously, Trenton had kept himself in check and initiated his bride gently. A small smile curved Dustin’s lips. In truth, if he considered Trenton’s wretched mood together with Ariana’s artless eagerness, he could almost believe that something significant had happened last night … something that involved far more than a physical consummation. An interesting possibility indeed.
“Spraystone must be lovely,” Ariana was saying, frowning at the plate of poached eggs and buttered toast that was placed before her by a dutiful footman.
“It is.” Before Dustin could ask why Ariana was displeased with her breakfast, she had pushed away her plate and instead helped herself to a dish of caramel pudding. “All of the Isle of Wight is picturesque,” Dustin continued, watching Ariana lick the last creamy drop from her spoon, then enthusiastically bite into a jam tart. “But Spraystone is especially beautiful. It not only overlooks a breathtaking section of the Solent but also provides a clear view of the entire coast of Hampshire. … Sweetheart, you’re going to make yourself ill,” he put in, as Ariana began nibbling at her second tart.
She paused, licking the jam from her lip. “Pardon me?”
“In the last five minutes you’ve eaten a huge bowl of custard and two tarts. Granted, you could stand a few additional pounds, but wouldn’t you like some substantial food?”
Ariana blinked, her stomach lurching as it registered the arrival of its unusually sweet breakfast. “Oh … I didn’t realize … That is …”
Seeing her face take on a greenish cast, Dustin came to his feet, snatching a piece of toast and holding it up to Ariana’s mouth. “Eat this,” he ordered. While she chewed, he poured a cup of tea and thrust it at her. “Now drink.”
It took only a few seconds for her stomach to settle. Then she sagged in her chair, giving Dustin a mortified look. “I don’t know what to say …” she began.
Dustin’s lips twitched. “You did tell me that you eat an extraordinary amount of sweets when you’re nervous.”
Despite her embarrassment, Ariana found herself smiling back. “I do.”
“Therefore I must sadly conclude that, since you’ve … overindulged on both occasions I’ve been in your company, I evidently make you nervous.”
“Oh, no!” she burst out, unconsciously reaching for his hand. “To the contrary, Dustin, you make me feel very much at home and remarkably relaxed.” Her brows knit and her mind began racing, desperately seeking the words to make Dustin realize how crucial his companionship was to the overwhelming adjustment that now confronted her, how extraordinary she found their instant rapport. “Why, yesterday I was beside myself with jitters and you knew just how to calm me. And this morning you’re here to make my first official meal at Broddington so much more pleasant. If only Trenton …” She broke off, horrified by what she had implied.
“I understand, Ariana.” Dustin covered her small hand with his large one. “And it’s all right. My brother is not an easy man to know … to understand,” he corrected his choice of words, seeing Ariana blush. For some reason she inspired powerful feelings in him: protective, tender feelings. The last thing he wanted was her discomfort. “I tell you what,” he said on impulse, rising to his feet. “Since Trent is away, why don’t I take you on a tour of Broddington? After all, this is your new home, and I’m sure you’re curious to see it.”
Ariana tried, unsuccessfully, to disguise her excitement. “I don’t want to keep you from anything. …”
He waved her protest away. “Nonsense. I left all my work at Tyreham. And since I plan to stay at Broddington for several days”—he bowed deeply—“I am at your disposal.”
“Oh, Dustin, can we begin now?” Ariana nearly toppled the chair in her zealous attempt to rise.
“Immediately.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “That is, of course, if you’ve had enough to eat.”
Ariana smiled. “I believe I’ve had my fill, thank you.”
“Good. Then let’s begin our tour.”
“Given the size of Broddington, ‘excursion’ would be a better choice of words,” she pointed out as they strolled into the marble-columned billiard room.
“True.” Dustin gestured toward the carved billiards table. “Do you play?”
“Me?” Ariana gave him a wan smile. “Hardly.”
“You probably prefer badminton,” he rectified, mistaking her adamant response for a display of offended female sensibilities. “Now that sport is certainly catching on rapidly and is, undoubtedly, more appealing to a lady.”
Ariana shook her head in apology. “I’m afraid my knowledge of sports is sadly lacking. I’ve played tennis once or twice and, of course, I ride, but …” She shrugged with casual acquiescence. “I’m alone a great deal and there was never anyone to properly instruct me. However, I’m never lonely: I have my flowers and my animals.”
“I’ll instruct you.”
She blinked. “You will?”
“Name your preference,” he confirmed, grinning at her amazement. “Let’s see …” He began counting off on his fingers: “There’s bad
minton, billiards, tennis, sailing …” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Poker …”
