Page 32 of A Night of Passion with the Duke

“All right, thank you.”

Arabella did her morning ablutions and dressed with the help of the maid, who announced that she’d been assigned as her lady’s maid.

She was already late to breakfast, so she hadn’t wasted time deciding on a dress. She’d chosen a pale yellow day dress that she hoped wouldn’t be too loud for a first meeting with his family and had her hair styled in an elegant but simple chignon. A touch of rouge to her cheeks and a dash of perfume later, she was ready. She allowed herself to be led through ornately decorated corridors to the dining room.

Chatter floated through the closed double doors, making her pulse quicken so much that she nearly screamed when Edward suddenly appeared beside her.

“Good morning, Duchess,” he greeted, smiling down at her warmly.

She tried hard not to notice how handsome he looked when he was smiling. The little dimple she’d only noticed once before appeared again, making her heart flutter. She tried to stay angry at him for leaving her alone last night, but it was hard with him being so devastatingly handsome.

Even if her marriage was a sham, his beauty could almost make it worthwhile. He’d dressed this morning almost informally, with his dark hair still damp and curling slightly at his forehead, as if he’d rushed his morning ablutions.

His brow furrowed as a concerned look crossed his features, and she remembered then that she hadn’t greeted him back.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” She curtsied. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Thank you.” He nodded. “Did you?”

She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t returned to their chamber last night, but she didn’t think it’d be proper for her to bring up such matters.

Even if she’d been bold enough to ask for a night of passion at that ball, now they were married because of that foolish decision. She didn’t think he’d want anything to do with her, especially seeing that it was her being so improper that got them into this mess.

He’d told her not to blame herself, but it was hard not to do so when the truth was obvious.

“I did. Thank you.”

He nodded, keeping his hands behind his back.

The silence between them was pregnant with so many unspoken words, but how did one converse with their fake spouse?

“We should?—”

“Aren’t we?—”

They shared an awkward laugh, before he gestured for her to go first.

“Aren’t we going to go inside?” she asked softly, mindful of the footmen nearby.

Edward laughed uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “We are. I just…” he trailed off. “Give me your arm.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked between them, before giving him her arm, trying hard not to flush at the contact.

He nodded to the footman who opened the doors to admit them.

All chatter stopped the moment they stepped in, three pairs of eyes flicking to them.

Arabella took in the people sitting at the table, and it was hard not to break into a cold sweat at the intense looks they shot her.

She figured it was because of the oddness of the Duke showing up late to breakfast with a strange woman on his arm. She flushed at how improper they must have looked.

“Edward?” An older woman who looked to be the most elegant middle-aged woman she’d ever seen asked. She had to be Edward’s mother. They shared the beautiful dark eyes and proud chin that added a regal air to them. “I didn’t know you’d returned from London.”

“I returned last night.”

“And you brought a friend,” she noted, sounding disgusted with the word.

“Actually—”

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