Chapter 7

Seven

C hristina, you will have more luck catching flies with honey than with vinegar.

Her mother's words played in her mind as she watched her husband leave the dining room. Christina took several deep breaths, telling herself there had to be a reason he was like this. She turned to the girls and smiled.

"We will find a way to persuade the Duke," she said, trying to sound optimistic. "Now, let us eat."

Agnes sighed. "I'm not hungry."

Christina leaned in, her voice gentle. "But your bones are hungry, Agnes. They need nourishment so you can take more adventurous hikes in the woods."

Agnes picked up her fork and began to eat, her eyes lighting up at the thought of more adventures.

Katherine looked at her and asked softly, "Are you sad?"

Christina's heart ached, but she kept her smile. "A little, but not for long. We have each other, and that is what matters."

This was not how she imagined her marriage would be. She had once dreamed of finding a love that would accept her as she was. Now that her father had given her away to a moody Duke, she only had the children to give her hope.

Dessert arrived, and Christina encouraged the girls to eat as much as they wanted. She made a decision then, something she hoped would help bridge the gap between her and the Duke. After dinner, she found Mrs. Brimsey.

"Mrs. Brimsey, could you arrange a tea tray for me with tonight's dessert?" she asked.

Mrs. Brimsey's eyes lit up. "Of course, Your Grace. I'll see to it immediately."

Once Christina had the tray, she carried it herself to the library and set it down on a table near the door before knocking.

"Who is it?" came the Duke's voice.

"It's the Duchess," she said, pressing her ear to the door. She thought she heard him groan but wasn't sure.

"May I enter?" she asked.

"No," he replied curtly.

"I brought you tea," she said.

"I do not drink tea."

She glanced at the tray and said, "There is more than tea."

"I am not interested," he said, his voice sounding closer. Christina felt a spark of hope that he might open the door. She waited, but nothing happened. She sighed and leaned against the door, tracing the wood patterns on the mahogany.

"Your Grace, I asked your permission for my sister to visit because Annie has been very sad recently. I hope your daughters will revive her spirits, and in return, they can learn a thing or two about manners from her."

His voice was very close to the door when he asked, "What manners can my daughters learn from your sister when she lacks them herself?"

Christina shook her head slightly. "Annie is not quite like me. She is reserved and loves painting. She has a great talent for it. Katherine could improve her watercolor skills with Annie's help."

There was a moment of silence before the key clicked in the door and it opened. Their eyes met and held for a moment. The intensity in his gaze made her heart race. He stepped aside for her to enter, and she carried the tray in, setting it down on a table by a chair in front of the hearth. He closed the door behind her.

"Why should I believe your words?" he asked, his voice hard. "Your father lied to me. He told me you were a proper lady when the truth is that you are..."

"Far worse?" she finished for him.

He ignored her and walked to a table, picking up a neat stack of books.

"A hellion?" she suggested.

He paused in his stride and looked at her over his shoulder. His eyes moved from the crown of her head to her shod feet before he turned and proceeded to put the books back on the shelf. Christina noted how much care he took in placing the books, almost as if they were precious treasures.

She poured some tea into a cup and asked, "Would you like sugar?"

"I do not drink tea," he repeated, irritation lacing his tone. "And I dislike repeating myself."

"Understood," she muttered, adding a spoon of sugar into the cup anyway. She then placed a slice of peach cake onto a plate and spooned some cream onto it. Taking the cake to him as he placed the last book on the shelf, she said, "You left before dessert."

He turned, his brows rising in surprise. "What is this?"

"You left before dessert," she repeated.

He accepted the cake with reluctance, setting it down on a desk. Taking a bite, he picked up another stack of books, his expression thoughtful but guarded.

After arranging the books, the Duke returned to the desk and ate several more bites of the cake. Christina smiled softly, watching him. He picked up a book that appeared to be missing a cover and began arranging the disarrayed sheets. Christina felt a pang of guilt. The book wouldn't have been destroyed if I hadn't allowed the children to use them as forts. She held back a sigh and decided to speak.

"Annie used to have a sparkle in her eye, but it is now gone," she said quietly.

He met her gaze, his eyes curious. "Why did the sparkle leave her?"

Christina gave a little shrug and lied. "I don't know." Telling him the truth would not earn her his approval, and she needed that right now. "I hope your daughters will help Annie become herself again. They can be a bit rambunctious, and with Annie's calm and good sensibility, they might learn to be calmer too."

The Duke finished his cake and brought the plate to the tray, then stood in front of her. Before he could speak, she blurted out, "Are you seeking to intimidate me?"

She regretted it immediately when she saw his eyes flash. "If I agree to allow your sister to visit, there will be rules that you must follow," he said sternly.

She nodded, feeling both relief and trepidation.

"There is to be no playing and shouting," he continued. "The library is still out of bounds, and if the girls want some sunshine, they are allowed a half-hour walk in the gardens under Miss Peversly's supervision."

The mention of the governess irritated Christina, but she didn't let it show. "How long will you permit Annie to stay?"

"However long she likes," he replied.

This pleased Christina, and she curtsied before him. "Thank you, Your Grace."

The corner of his mouth curved, but not quite into a smile. She wondered what would make him smile and found herself curious to see it. "Do you ever smile?" she asked.

"No," he replied flatly.

"Do you ever laugh?" she teased, trying to coax a reaction from him.

He gave her an incredulous look before realizing she was teasing him. "Rarely," he said, his eyes softening slightly.

"That is a shame," she said with a playful smile. "Laughter is good for the soul."

"Where did you learn that from? Mrs. Darlington-Whit's Seminary?"

"No, I learned it from somewhere better, from my old nurse."

Their gazes hold for a moment, and Christina feels that familiar blush staining her cheeks. Clearing his throat, he returned to the book that lacked a cover, and she followed him. When he picked up the torn cover, she asked, "Are you going to bind it yourself?"

His expression immediately grew cold, as if to remind her that she was responsible for its ruin. She felt a pang of guilt and could see how much he cared about the books in the gentle manner in which he was handling them.

"I'm sorry about the boo?—"

"I don't want your apology," he cut her off.

Christina wondered if this was the same man she had an almost pleasant conversation with moments ago. Sighing, she decided to leave the room but not before stopping to pick up the tea she had put sugar in earlier. She glanced over her shoulder and found the Duke's eyes on her.

"I will not waste good tea," she said with a shrug.

Then she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Quiet at last. Victor returned to his task of binding the book. He picked up some resin and warmed it over a candle to use as the adhesive, but as he examined the cover, he decided it would be better to fashion a new one. He recalled the Duchess's apology and how he had dismissed her.

A pang of regret struck him; perhaps he ought to have accepted her apology, for she did appear genuinely remorseful. He tried to focus on sorting more of the scattered books in the library, which he had insisted on organizing himself. However, the Duchess kept intruding upon his thoughts, her bright green eyes and fiery hair commanding his mind.

He sat in a chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. What am I to do with her? She clearly lacked the decorum he had expected, yet his daughters seemed to adore her already. They heeded her every word, and she could easily influence them. If only it was the right sort of influence.

A knock sounded at the door, and he immediately called, "Enter," thinking the Duchess had returned. When he looked up, however, his anticipation faded as Mrs. Peversly entered the room. She curtsied and greeted him.

"Your Grace, the children have all retired for the evening at the appropriate time," she informed him.

He nodded, appreciating the adherence to routine. Mrs. Peversly looked around the room with the same disapproval that had mirrored his earlier feelings.

"I cautioned Her Grace against allowing the children to play in the library," she continued, her tone self-righteous. "But she merely responded that they are children and require chaos for their growth."

"Chaos," Victor muttered under his breath, feeling a flicker of annoyance.

"The children have been quiet and rather well-mannered this evening," Mrs. Peversly went on, "and I see it as the commencement of great achievements. I understand that Her Grace is very spirited," she took a step closer to Victor, her tone insistent, "but I am here to ensure they are raised to be the epitome of good breeding in England."

Victor's patience was wearing thin. "I am well aware of all that you have said, Mrs. Peversly. I have taken the proper measures to ensure the suitable upbringing of my daughters."

She smiled, the expression not reaching her eyes. "Do not hesitate to call upon me should you require anything."

Victor frowned at her choice of words, but before he could respond, she had curtsied again and was walking out of the library. He did not ask her to elaborate because he had no desire to prolong any conversation with her.

Left alone, he wondered briefly about the governess's intentions, but he quickly dismissed the thoughts, attributing them to his weariness. He returned to his task, yet the image of the Duchess and her captivating green eyes lingered in his mind, making it difficult to concentrate.