Page 28 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
He gave her a look. “Money is what enables you to live. Whatever you call the process of getting it, the truth is you rely on commerce just as much as the rest of us. The only difference is that the nobility hires others to deal with the day-to-day aspects of a business.”
She looked away, blushing slightly. “Forgive me, I did not mean to put you down or —”
“Whether you mean to or not, you seem to do it quite regularly.”
She turned back to stare at him with wide eyes. “I…do not," she said uncertainly.
“Perhaps you do not notice, but you do say some things that make me wonder if you think me beneath you.”
Freya blanched. “No. I am not so high in the instep. Perhaps I am unthinking, but I do not mean to be.”
Eric nodded. “I understand. A lifetime of instruction cannot be dispelled so easily even when one is forced to adjust one’s expectations.”
Freya huffed, shaking her head. “There were no expectations to be adjusted!”
Eric just gave her a skeptical look and went back to his wine. She gave him a sidelong glance, wondering if he would say more, but he just drank in silence. He left her feeling unsettled and discontented. For some reason, she did not want him to think of her as a brat.
Though I don’t know why I should care for his good opinion.
She took a large sip of her port and then put the glass unsteadily down. She turned to him with a resigned sigh. “See here, sir. I am sorry for offending you although it was not my intention. You are far too sensitive, especially about that scar on your face, and I think you would be much happier if learned to be less tense about it.” She was quite pleased with her apology and took another sip of her drink.
Eric stood up abruptly. “I think we should leave now.” He began to gather together their picnic items as Freya watched him, nonplussed. The footman appeared, taking over the task from Eric. He got to his feet and walked a few feet away, facing away from her.
“Is something the matter?” she asked, still sitting and sipping her port.
He shook his head. “No, everything is fine. We should go. It looks like rain.”
Freya sighed as she struggled to her feet, swaying a little on account of the amount of port she’d drunk.
Perhaps I had a tad too much.
She giggled, feeling like a naughty child. Eric turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. “What’s funny?”
She waved a hand blearily. “Nothing. What did I just say about you being overly sensitive?”
He grunted, shaking his head and looking annoyed. She huffed, tottering past him and turning into one of the walkways in the hope that it would take her eventually back to the carriage. She felt something warm close around her arm and looked down to see Eric’s rather large, strong-looking hand, holding onto her.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he snapped and pulled her towards him.
“Oh.” She stumbled, falling into him, her hand coming up to rest on his hard chest in a bid to steady herself. “Oh,” she said again quietly as she stared at the rapid rise and fall of his chest, her own heaving in sync. “How hard you are here.”
She ran her palm along his chest, pressing down and enjoying how there was barely any yield no matter how hard she pushed at him.
“What are you doing?” He seemed torn between amusement and annoyance.
She looked up at him, a frown furrowing her brow. “I am just trying to see how hard your chest is. How do you get it like this?” She moved her hand from his chest to hers. “Mine is so soft and spongy.”
He let out a bark of laughter before smothering it. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured before taking firm hold of her arm. “And drunk I believe. Come now.” He tried to lead her down the right path, but she resisted, so to her horror, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” She began to bang her fists on his back, “Put me down this instant!”
“In a minute. Calm down.” He slapped her bottom lightly.
She growled, increasing the tempo of her hits. “Do. Not. Tell. Me. To. Calm. Down!”
He just laughed, increasing her rage. There was not much she could do about it at the moment except swallow the feeling of nausea and try to endure this humiliation with as much dignity as she could.
Finally, they reached the carriage, and he put her down carefully. Smacking him on the shoulder, she turned around with a huff and entered the carriage, slamming the door behind her.
