Page 9 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
Freya was willing to wait quite a good long while before she had to see for herself what that felt like.
ChapterFive
Sitting down with the Duke and his family for dinner felt a little strange after all the hysterics in the afternoon. But His Grace had insisted, and Eric was not inclined to refuse. He was feeling quite pleased with himself for having negotiated a marriage agreement with Freya—one they could both live with. He could always satisfy his bodily needs with mistresses after all. He was quite sure that at least half the town had the same arrangement, and it worked out well for both parties.
“I am pleased that you have come to your senses, Freya. I do not understand what the hysterics you were having this afternoon were about,” the Duke said.
Eric looked to Freya whose head was bowed, her eyes focused on her plate, so he had noticed that she was merely pushing food around and barely eating. He also noticed the slight flinch when the Duke said her name and frowned. It seemed to him that Freya and her father had a very fraught relationship.
He took a moment to spare a thought for his own father, who had been as loving a man as any son could wish for.
“I think I merely may have scared her with my…” He indicated his scar with his hand.
The Duke snorted derisively, “That is hardly something to give anyone the vapors. You must excuse my daughter; she has always been weak and a bit silly. She cares for nothing but her plants. It is quite tiresome though I trust it will not stop you from producing a grandson for me.”
Eric blanched. He had not been expecting such blunt language in mixed company. He cleared his throat. “We shall do our best,” he murmured.
“No, no,” the Duke said, “you will do better than that. I have commissioned for you a townhouse quite close to London so that I may keep tabs on your progress. I expect that by the end of the season, you will be with child.” He glared at his daughter.
Her face paled. “I cannot guarantee that, Father. It is in God’s hands whether I have a child or not.”
“Oh no, it is absolutely in your hands, and I shall deploy Silver to make sure that it is so. He will make sure that you are fulfilling the terms of this agreement.”
Freya dropped her fork, staring at her father in disbelief. “What do you mean by that, Father? Is your butler to make sure that we are copulating, or what do you mean exactly?”
The Duke grinned quite evilly, “Or if he has to, Silver will stand right over you and make sure that you are doing what needs to be done to produce my grandchild. The townhouse shall be ready for occupation at the end of the week. You and Mr. Campbell shall be married the day after tomorrow.”
Slowly Eric cleared his throat, “You will have to forgive me, Your Grace, but Freya and I have agreed to live at Stark Manor, and we will not be permitting anyone into our chambers to view our private business.”
“As you wish, Mr. Campbell, but note that Silver will be reporting to me on your activities, and remember that it is part of your agreement to produce an heir for me.”
“It is noted.” Eric was beginning to understand why Freya was so tense in the presence of her father. He really was quite an unreasonable gentleman.
As soon as dinner was over, Eric got to his feet. “I would like to stay longer, but clearly, I have some arrangements to make, and I need to inform my family of my upcoming wedding. And so, you will forgive me, but I will bid you both goodnight.”
The Duke nodded dismissively, and Freya gave him a wan smile. He nodded to them both and left as quickly as he could, appreciating his own family a whole lot more.
* * *
Freya slowly climbed the stairs to her chambers feeling as if she was a hundred-year-old woman. The day had certainly been longer than she anticipated, and she had anticipated a long day. She wasn’t surprised to find Isabella waiting for her. Her younger sister had had dinner in her chambers in company with her governess. Freya wished that she had been able to join them rather than being forced to eat with her father and her future husband.
Much as she appreciated Eric's consideration, there was still a lingering sting from their earlier encounter and the fact that she was being forced to wed him for no other reason than to satisfy her father’s ego and his obsession with legacy. A legacy that clearly did not include herself or her sister—merely whatever male offspring she could produce.
Isabella stared at her with sympathy in her eyes. “How was it? Was it very bad?”
Slowly Freya shook her head. “Not very. The man who humiliated me earlier today is to be my husband. How bad could it have been?”
“Oh, Freya.” Isabella rushed off the bed, ran to her, and put her arms around Freya. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
Slowly Freya put her arms around Isabella, grateful for the comfort and warmth she provided, “I know darling girl. I am just very tired.”
Isabella pulled back. “Would you like to have a hot bath? I can call for the servants to bring you hot water.”
Freya opened her mouth to refuse but on second thought realized that she could quite do with a warm soak if only to loosen the stiffness of her muscles and give her somewhere to drown her tears. “Yes, I think I would quite like that.”
* * *
Eric let himself into the house and then paused for a moment, just staring at the portrait of his brother that hung in the foyer. He sighed deeply, shaking his head, “What have I gotten us into, brother? Did I do the right thing?”
