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Harry’s jaw clenched as he was reminded of the way she had stared at him.
“Forgive me for my lack of manners,” he said tersely. “I will not come to you unless you ask me to.” As the words left his lips, he was reminded of how close to each other they were standing. It would be too easy for him to pull her into his arms and kiss her, then carry her to the bed and please her. Harry swallowed, mentally shaking his head to chase the lewd thoughts from his mind.
Her arms crossed over her chest as if to conceal herself, and she took a step back. “You are forgiven, Your Grace,” she said, turning to return to her bed. “Good night.”
It was a dismissal, and if he had any honor in him, he would heed it. “Sleep well,” he murmured, turning to leave the way he had come.
He found Cato waiting for him when he returned to his chambers and closed the door. The dog tilted his head as if to ask a question, and Harry shook his head. “Our duchess is displeased with my lack of manners.” Cato whimpered. “Come, my friend, I have many correspondences that require a response.”
Picking up a candle from an end table in his sitting room, Harry ventured out of his chamber to the sound of retreating footsteps in the hallway. He followed them with a frown, and Cato gave a bark before running in the direction they had come from.
Someone had been lurking near their bedchambers, and he wanted to know who it was. Unfortunately, they escaped before even Cato could find them. Harry cursed under his breath and led the dog to his study.
The day had been more difficult than he thought. He had purposefully refused to be present when his bride and her family had arrived the day before, fearing her reaction when she beheld his disfigured face for the first time. He had feared that she would refuse to marry him.
He had immediately regretted not presenting himself earlier when she gasped before the vicar and everyone attending the wedding ceremony, but when she had surprised him by not running away, he had begun to hope that she would truly regard him as her husband. Alas, it was not to be so, for he had seen the rejection in her eyes moments ago.
Harry poured himself some gin and sat at his desk, scratching Cato’s head with one hand while his drink occupied the other. It would be better for both of them if he kept away from her, he decided.
“Good morning, Bridget,” Sarah greeted with a smile in the morning, which quickly faded when she saw Bridget’s expression. “What is the matter? You have some pink circles beneath your eyes.”
“I did not sleep well.” She touched a hand to her aching temple. “The duke was here.”
“He was?” Her friend’s brows rose.
“Not in the manner that you think. He will not touch me because of my reputation.” She had been nervous when he entered the room, but she had felt something unexpected and hoped he would do something, anything. The sight of him, his handsome features, and his strong voice had called to her senses, waking a desire deep within her.
All he had done, however, was remind her of her tarnished image and pronounce his intention to keep away from her. Bridget had spent the rest of the night worried about what her life would be like in this place.
“I am sorry, Bridget.” Sarah gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It is only the first night. Perhaps his opinion will change when he knows you better. I, for one, am hopeful.”
A small smile touched Bridget’s lips. “Your words make me feel better.”
“And you will feel even better after dressing.” Sarah walked to the dressing room and emerged with a pale green muslin dress with short sleeves and dark green embroidery at the hem. “This compliments your eyes and bright hair. It is bound to impress everyone, especially the duke at breakfast.”
Her father had spared no expense in her attire, insisting that she must look like the duchess that she would become. She dearly missed him.
“Belinda promised to show me the castle today,” she said as Sarah placed the final pin in her hair. “There are quite a few changes that I have been thinking of, the first of which are the drawn curtains.”
“Oh, yes!” Sarah agreed. “One of the maids was kind enough to reveal to me that the duke ordered all the curtains to be shut not long after his return from Spain.”
“He is hiding, then?”
“I believe so.”
Bridget frowned. “He should not, but I suppose people have not been kind to him since his injury.”
“I suppose,” Sarah agreed before declaring, “There! You look splendid.”
“You flatter me, Sarah.”
“It is my duty to ensure your beauty is seen. I will show you to the breakfast room now.”
Bridget inclined her head, grateful to her friend, before rising and following her out.
Belinda was seated at a round table, her eyes closed, and one hand on her temple. When she heard Bridget enter, she made a vain attempt to force a smile.
“What is the matter?” Bridget asked, going to her side.
