Page 23 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“And I suppose I can’t ask you what you were doing? You’ve made it quite clear that I’m not to question you on such things.”

Henry groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Me?!”

“Yes, you. And I don’t just mean tonight. Since the moment I brought you here, all we have done is fight—all you have done is pick and bicker at everything I do. It’s never-ending.”

Was he serious? Charlotte could hardly believe what she was hearing. In her opinion, she had tried her best to be dutiful and do what he had asked of her, and it was he who had made that next to impossible.

Although, she supposed that she had a role to play in their fights. Not one she had intended, but whenever they fought, she felt a thrill rise in her as his anger mounted. He was so big. So scary. And there was something about the way he looked at her that she enjoyed a little too much, like a wolf eyeing a lamb it had stumbled across in the meadow.

“I’m sorry if you see things that way. I am. But I also think you’re mistaken.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

“As I said before, I understand that you don’t want this marriage—that you hate me. But the least you can do is not make your antipathy so darn obvious. How do you expect me to react to such a thing?”

Henry frowned and tilted his head. “Is that what you think? That I hate you?”

“What else am I meant to think?”

“I don’t hate you.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “And I really hope that you know that. What I hate… I hate that this is so hard. When I made my proposal to your father, I never dreamed…” He shook his head.

“Yes, I know, you wish I was my sister. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“That’s not what I wish at all.”

“Yes, you do,” she snapped, arms still folded. “If you’re going to treat me like this, the least you could do is not lie.”

“I don’t wish you were your sister,” he said, a tinge of frustration coloring his tone. A deep growl rose from his belly and rolled across the room. “In fact, from everything I have heard of her, I dare say a marriage to her would have been even harder.”

Charlotte snorted. “I doubt it.”

“Will you just—” He caught his tongue. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Meaning?”

He chuckled and stepped further into the room, an action that had her catching her breath, as if he might come for her suddenly. “Everything I say, you find a way to dismiss it.”

“You make it so easy,” she responded coldly.

His expression became serious, and he stepped closer still. She didn’t retreat, which put him less than five feet away from her. He loomed large in her little room, face flushed, breathing heavy, eyes trained on her in a way that might have been seductive if he wasn’t so annoyed.

“I’m trying here, Charlotte.”

“Trying what, exactly?”

“To find a middle ground.”

She snorted. “One that sees me completely subservient to your whims and fancies, you mean?”

“You will remember that I offered you complete freedom in this marriage. You’re free to go wherever you please and do as you wish. I don’t think there is another wife who has such a luxury.”

“And you?” she shot back, pushing him as she always did, again because she enjoyed it. “I take it that means you’re free to do whatever you please…” A lump formed in her throat which she couldn’t explain. “… with whomever you please.”

He frowned at that as a tiny smirk rose up the side of his face. “Ah, now I see why you’re so angry. You’re upset with me.”

“Look who has finally caught up.”

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