Chapter 6

Six

I t had been over a week since Victor had married the Duchess. As he arrived at Kilton Castle, he hoped the dream he had envisioned before the marriage was beginning to take shape. He climbed down from the carriage, straightening his coat as his groom approached, twisting his cap with a look of concern and uncertainty.

"What is the matter?" Victor asked, his tone clipped with irritation.

The groom shifted uncomfortably. "Your Grace, it's... well, it's the Duchess."

Victor's patience frayed. "Out with it, man!"

"I wouldn't say, except I knew you would disapprove, so I feel I have to..." at the sight of Victor's glare he stuttered out: "Earlier this week, the Duchess went riding with all four ladies," the groom stammered. Victor's anger began to simmer, but the groom continued. "She did not use the sidesaddle and rode astride... in men's clothing."

Victor's eyes widened, scandalized. "Surely, you are mistaken."

But the groom's solemn expression told him otherwise. Victor marched into the castle, ready to confront the hellion he appeared to have married. As he entered the grand foyer, he noticed both footmen carrying the bags, but Smith was conspicuously absent to take his hat and greatcoat.

From the direction of the library, he heard a commotion—shouting, laughter, and what sounded like battle cries. "Charge! To arms! Defend the fort!" Victor's brows knitted in confusion. What in the world is happening? He hurried toward the noise, quickening his pace until he found himself running.

Bursting into the library, Victor was met with a sight that left him in shock. Nearly all the castle servants were gathered, watching with varying degrees of amusement and horror as his daughters engaged in what could only be described as a mock battle.

To his absolute horror, his books had been transformed into fortifications. Katherine stood atop a makeshift parapet, brandishing a cane like a sword. "To victory, soldiers!" she cried.

Cassidy, her hair wild, was behind a stack of encyclopedias, pretending to reload a musket fashioned from a fireplace poker. "Reloading! Hold the line!"

Amelia, crouched behind an atlas, shouted, "Fire at will!" as she aimed a rolled-up map like a cannon.

Agnes, the smallest but no less fierce, charged with a makeshift bayonet, her eyes alight with the thrill of battle. "For honor and glory!"

Victor's mouth opened and closed as he tried to comprehend the scene. He took a step into the room, and his presence was soon noticed. The girls stopped mid-action, their weapons dropping to their sides.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

Amelia, always the brave one, stepped forward. "Father, we were just having a bit of fun. The Duchess said it was important to play and use our imaginations."

"The Duchess said?" Victor's voice was cold. "And where is the Duchess now?"

"She… she went to…" Amelia trailed off, her voice small.

Victor took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. "This cannot continue," he said, his tone more measured. "There are proper ways to conduct oneself."

Miss Peversly appeared, her face tight with disapproval. "Your Grace, I warned the household against such diversions," she said, curtsying.

Victor opened his mouth to respond when something suddenly brushed against his leg. He jumped, his heart pounding. Looking down, he found himself staring at a cat.

"What in heaven's name—?" His disbelief was palpable, his heart still racing. "Who brought this odious beast into the house?"

A footman, looking nervous, stepped forward. "It belongs to the Duchess, Your Grace."

Victor's eyes swept the room, his frustration mounting. "Where is the Duchess?" he demanded.

"I am here," came a calm voice from the doorway.

He turned to see the Duchess walking into the room with two maids, each carrying a tray laden with cakes and biscuits. Victor's eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance. Her disheveled red hair indicated she had been involved in the chaotic play earlier. Her pale blue day dress, though lovely, was wrinkled. But it was her bright green eyes, full of life and mischief, that struck him the most. She is a nightmare! Perhaps my worst nightmare!

His patience snapped. "Everyone out!" he barked at the servants, who scrambled to obey, leaving the room in a flurry of motion.

"Miss Peversly, take the children up to their rooms," he ordered, his voice hard.

Agnes began to cry, tears streaming down her face. The sight tugged at something deep within him, but before he could react, the Duchess stepped forward, her eyes fierce.

"Children need gentleness, not anger and cruel words," she said, her chin raised.

Victor's attention snapped to her. His jaw clenched, and he fought to keep his temper in check. "Meet me in my study. Now!"

Victor turned on his heels and stormed out of the library, his steps echoing through the grand hallways of the Castle. He entered his study with a forceful push of the door, which slammed against the wall and rattled the framed maps and paintings. He stood rigidly in front of his desk, fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with controlled rage as he waited for the Duchess.

Time stretched interminably, his thoughts a chaos of anger and incredulity. Just as he was about to march out and drag her in himself, the door opened with a quiet creak, and she walked in, closing it softly behind her. She stood with her hands folded in front of her, a picture of defiance and calm.

Victor's eyes narrowed as he began, his voice a razor's edge. "I thought what I am about to say would be unnecessary because I assumed your father surely must have informed you that your purpose in this marriage is to guide my daughters and raise them with a strict hand to be proper ladies."

Her eyes flashed defiantly, and she placed her hands on her hips, the defiant gesture drawing his attention. For the first time, he allowed himself to truly see her. She was not the delicate flower her father had described, but a lean, strong woman who looked as if she spent ample time outdoors. Her skin had a healthy glow, her posture was confident, and her fiery red hair, fighting to escape her chignon in rebellious curls, captivated him despite his anger.

Her voice snapped him out of his observations. "The children do not need a strict hand. They need care."

"They have ample care," he retorted, his voice rising with emotion as he slammed his hand down on the desk for emphasis.

"How can they have care when you are seldom home?" she countered, stepping closer, her green eyes blazing with challenge.

"It is not your business how much time I spend with my children," he shot back, his temper flaring. He took another step toward her, the space between them charged with tension.

"They are children, Your Grace. They are supposed to play and be wild to discover who they are," she insisted, her tone unyielding.

Victor felt an overwhelming urge to either shake her or kiss her, the intensity of his conflicting emotions nearly overwhelming. To divert his thoughts, he demanded, "Is that how you discovered who you are? Did your parents allow you to play and be wild?" He took another step forward, his imposing presence casting a shadow over her.

The Duchess shook her head, her expression unwavering. "They sent me to a school that was most thorough in discipline."

"Then how did you end up being the dragon's spawn?" he asked sarcastically, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Because you are a worse dragon," she retorted, her voice rising. "You won't even let your children out of the cave so they can gain strength."

Victor realized how impossible she was to argue with. Every word he thought would give him an edge, she countered with something sharper. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, took a step back, and sat heavily behind his desk. "Sit," he commanded coolly, pointing to the chair opposite him.

She folded her arms across her chest, her posture defiant. "I will not ask again," he said, his voice icy, his eyes locked onto hers.

She paused, the flames in her eyes blazing even more intensely, then took a breath and sat in the chair opposite his desk, her movements deliberate and composed.

"The children are not the only ones requiring discipline in this castle," he began, his voice measured but firm. "From now on, no one is allowed in the library—neither you nor the children."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he glared at her and held up a hand, silencing her. "No playing, no shouting," he continued, his tone brooking no argument.

When he finished, he watched her closely. Her features were tight, and she looked like she wanted to speak but was restraining herself. "Do you have any questions?" he asked.

"Your rules will not work," she said, her voice steady but seething. "The girls are children, not horses to be trained and disciplined."

The mention of horses flared his anger anew. "I have it on good authority that you went riding, and in men's clothing no less."

"It's the best way to ride," she argued passionately, leaning forward. "No one should be subjected to a sidesaddle that causes nothing but aches?—"

He cut her off, rising very slowly from his chair, his movements deliberate and menacing. Her eyes widened, and he heard her inhale sharply. She is nervous. Good. He swiftly yanked the bell pull by the door, and a moment later, Smith appeared, his expression neutral but curious.

"Smith, instruct Meyers to cancel all my trips. I am not to be troubled at all while in Kent," he ordered.

Once the butler left, he turned back to the Duchess, meeting her gaze. "I will rectify my family and bring them to order myself!"

Christina sat rigidly by the Duke's right, her fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table as she tried to dispel the nervous energy coursing through her. Katherine was on his left, looking down at her plate and hardly eating.

The main course was a sumptuous roast beef with rich gravy, accompanied by buttered vegetables and warm bread rolls, but it might as well have been gruel for all the interest the girls showed in it. Cassidy, Amelia, and Agnes were also barely touching their food. The Duke, on the other hand, appeared to be eating without a care in the world, methodically cutting his meat and savoring each bite. This puzzled Christina, who could feel the tension crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

At one point, the Duke paused in his meal and looked around the table. "Why are you not eating?" he asked the girls, his tone carrying an edge of impatience.

Christina muttered under her breath, "How can they eat when they're barely allowed to breathe?"

He turned sharply to look at her, his eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Christina smiled sweetly. "I said, perhaps the girls are not hungry." She then turned to them. "Girls, why are you not eating?"

They all shook their heads, mumbling various excuses. Christina looked back at her husband and gave him a look that wordlessly conveyed this is your fault . He seemed to get the message because he turned his attention back to his food, cutting into his roast with a bit more force than necessary.

Agnes scratched her plate with her fork, causing a loud, grating noise. The Duke looked up sharply, and Agnes sucked in her lips. "It's an accident," she claimed innocently. When he looked away, Christina saw her smiling conspiratorially at Cassidy. A conspiracy , she realized with slight amusement.

Katherine began to giggle but quickly covered it by clearing her throat. The Duke gave her a questioning look. "I have something in my throat," she explained.

The Duke then turned to Christina. "How do you think of the children when they are behaving themselves?" he asked, his voice laden with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Christina met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Why, Your Grace, I find them quite delightful when they are being the proper little ladies you so desire." The words were delivered with a subtle sarcasm that conveyed her true feelings without betraying them to the girls, but clear enough for the Duke to understand.

The Duke's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, Christina thought he might respond, but he merely returned to his meal.

She studied him for a moment, measuring the wisdom of what she was about to ask. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Your Grace, I have been considering inviting my sister Annie to spend some time with us."

The girls immediately lit up, their excitement bubbling over. "Please, Father!" Cassidy exclaimed.

"Can Lady Annabelle come?" Amelia chimed in, her eyes wide with hope.

"It would be splendid!" Agnes added, practically bouncing in her seat.

Katherine, who had been silent, joined in with a smile. "It would be wonderful to have her here, Father."

The Duke looked around at them, his eyes slightly wide at the barrage of pleas. He then turned to Christina, his expression hardening. "No," he said firmly.

Christina bristled. "You did not even give the idea a thought."

"I do not need to," he replied coolly. "If Lady Annabelle is anything like you, her presence will not benefit the children."

He nodded at the girls, his tone dismissive. "Enjoy your meal."

With that, he pushed back his chair and rose, leaving the dining room with an air of finality.