Page 27 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
He blew out a tired breath. “Can we at least try to get along? I feel as if the time will go by easier if we are not constantly at each other’s throats.”
She turned to him, frowning, still chewing upon her sandwich of bread and cheese. “I have not been at your throat. I think I have been endlessly polite, so I don’t know what you’re on about.”
He rolled his eyes. “I am talking about this gamesmanship you have going on with me. Anything I say, you try to top it with something better.”
“That is completely ridiculous!” she exclaimed. “You are the one always trying to make me look silly.”
“I swear to you, I am not.”
“Humph.” She folded her arms, glaring at him. “And now you seek to deny it because you know how childish it makes you look!”
“This is ridiculous. You are imagining things.”
She got to her feet and began to stomp away, pulse throbbing angrily in her neck. Eric watched her go, shaking his head as he tried to understand what had just happened. It had been his intention to quell the fighting, not stoke it.
With a sigh, he got to his feet and followed her. “Freya…Freya!”
She ignored him, walking faster along the maze of paths in the garden. Eric hastened his footsteps to catch up. He reached out and grabbed her elbow, he pulled her around to face him. “Stop, please. Let us talk.”
Her face was quite red, and he was surprised to see that her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. He frowned. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to anger you.” He closed his eyes, pursing his lips. “We must stop assuming the worst of each other. Can we possibly just eat our food amicably and then enjoy the gardens?”
“I can enjoy —” she began to say, but he put a finger over her mouth, effectively hushing her up.
“I said…. amicably.”
She huffed and then nodded reluctantly, flexing her shoulders. He took his finger from her mouth. “Good. Now, take my arm,” he held it out to her, “and allow me to escort you back to the picnic.”
She slid her hand through his arm, resting her palm in the crook of his elbow, and let him lead them both back to the picnic. Folding her feet under her, she sat down before accepting the glass of port he passed to her. “Alcohol should assist us to relax,” he suggested with a smile.
She nodded in agreement and drank before skewering a piece of roast meat and putting it in her mouth. Eric smiled as he took a bite of cheese. “You see, we can get along.”
Freya smiled back. “As long as we do not speak.”
He shrugged. “If that is the price, we have to pay…”
She shook her head in bemusement but continued to enjoy the meat and bread and cheese. The music was certainly helpful in calming her mood as well.
Once they were done with the food, they focused on emptying the bottle of wine, drinking companionably as they listened to the orchestra.
“Do you play the piano?” Eric asked.
Freya nodded. “Is it not mandatory for every lady?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Eric said.
“Oh, yes, of course. You have no sisters.”
“And we did not grow up expecting to join thetonand its many events.”
Freya laughed. “And how do you feel about that?”
“I am relatively resigned. It is part and parcel of the occupation.”
She made a face. “I suppose it is. Being part of Society is certainly seen as important, but I think that one can live peacefully in the country without engaging with all of that.”
He inclined his head to the side and made a dissenting sound. “Not if one wishes to continue to be successful in their enterprises. My father wanted my brother to inherit the title mainly because it comes with connections one would not otherwise have.”
“Oh, so it’s all about vulgar commerce.”
