Page 11 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“And why would I be upset with you?”

“Because I’m not my sister,” she said matter-of-factly, feeling her bravery grow. She wasn’t scared of the Duke. Simply cautious. There was an air of resilience around him, a wall that he seemed intent on hiding behind. One she wondered if she might be able to break through it. “And I know how much you would have preferred…” She looked away. “Preferred her.”

“Is that what you think?” He chuckled.

“Well, yes.” She looked back up, surprised by the smile he wore. “Did you not?”

The Duke groaned and shifted in his seat. He was bigger than she had realized, those broad shoulders of his seeming cramped in the small carriage. “I thought you understood what this was?”

“I do,” Charlotte said quickly. “But that doesn’t mean… even an arranged marriage like this one—my sister was who you had wanted. So, I just thought…” she trailed off awkwardly, finding the way the Duke watched her very discomfiting.

“Look.” He sat forward and made sure to look at her. “I’m going to be honest with you, Charlotte, because at this point, I may as well be. The truth is, I didn’t care who I married. You? Your sister? It meant little to me.”

Charlotte frowned and leaned back, not sure if she should have been offended or not. “Really? Why? I mean, why marry at all if?—”

“My reasons are my own,” he said sharply, raising an eyebrow at her, so she’d know not to push. “But seeing as we are on the subject, we may as well go over a few things that I think will make this arrangement far easier. For both of us.”

“All right…”

“We are married now, and for that reason, it will behoove us to act as such. Each night, you will join me for supper. And each morning, we shall break our fast together. Social engagements must be discussed with me beforehand, as it wouldn’t do for you to spend time with people who I consider to be of bad taste. Your public image now reflects on me personally, which means that I will need to approve who you are seen in public with. Understand?”

Charlotte thought it over, figuring that it was, by all accounts, a standard enough request. “I suppose that’s fair?—”

“Furthermore, I will expect you to perform your wifely duties.” He looked right at her, and her cheeks flushed.

“My…” She swallowed, and the carriage suddenly felt very small. Or maybe the Duke just seemed very big? “My wifely duties? What do you mean exactly?”

He didn’t answer her right away, the smirk on his face growing as her cheeks flushed because he seemed to enjoy the way she fidgeted under his stare.

Wifely duties. There could be only one meaning, and now that it was out there, it was all Charlotte could think of. She shifted in her seat, eyes glancing at the Duke and his… his large frame. Those shoulders and arms. His thighs, like tree trunks. She wanted to feel disgusted by the thought of him on top of her, of him taking her because it was his right. But still, a small part of her burned with a sense of longing because, truthfully, it didn’t sound nearly as bad as it might have.

“I am a private man,” he continued, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable she was. “So, when I am out, or when we are not together, you are not to ask me where I have been or who I have been with. And while this may seem unfair, I am willing to provide you with similar freedoms—again, so long as you don’t go anywhere public that might serve to embarrass me. And that includes any late-night trips to the tavern…” He cocked a knowing eyebrow at her and smirked.

Her eyes widened. “That wasn’t—that is not—I do not usually?—”

“Whatever it was,” he cut her off. “It stops now, understand? I can’t have a wife gallivanting about town, dressed as a man. It simply will not do.”

She nodded in understanding and swallowed. “Y-yes. That is fair.” She wanted to press the issue and explain what she had been doing and why, but the Duke didn’t seem to care. A trend she was starting to notice.

“I expect it to be an easy marriage,” he continued simply. “For me and for you. You will be, for all intents and purposes, free to spend your days however you wish.”

“So long as I’m your prisoner?” she asked before she could stop herself.

He smirked at that. “I think that’s a little unfair.”

“Is it?” she shot back, angry now because the more she thought of these requests, the more she realized how draconian they were. “It sounds as if you get to do whatever you want while I should be happy to wander the halls of your manor alone all day. How nice for me.”

He looked at her flatly. “As I said, you can do as you please, but if you go out in public?—”

“I must ask for your permission,” she cut him off, enjoying the way it made him bristle. “I understood perfectly well.” She raised a challenging eyebrow at him.

“Good,” he said with a satisfied smile and a look that suggested he was finished with this conversation.

“But if that’s the case,” Charlotte continued boldly, more out of annoyance than anything, “I have some requests of my own.”

“Is that right?” He sounded amused by the comment, as if he thought she was joking.

“Yes,” she uttered, forcing herself to meet his dispassionate gaze. “I think that”—a firm nod—“seeing as you’re so concerned with public image, we must aspire to it. I won’t become a shut-in.”

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