Page 70 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
The Duke made a grumbling noise under his breath. “I am tired since you have kept me waiting. I shall retire for the evening. I expect you to attend me first thing in the morning.”
“Yes Father,” she said automatically and was surprised that Eric simply kept quiet and did not comply as well. She stared at him wide-eyed.
“We cannot afford to make him angry,” she whispered.
He snorted derisively, still watching her father climb the stairs. “Is he evernotangry?”
Freya inclined her head, acknowledging the truth of that observation. “Well…I suppose I am very used to placating him; I do not even notice it anymore.”
He turned to her with a frown. “I did not like the way he spoke to you. Nor the way you cowered. Do you not know that I would protect you with my life? You need not be afraid of him or anyone.”
Freya’s heart skipped a beat. “Uh…oh, well…” she stammered breathlessly. “That is nice to know.”
“Come, let us go to bed. We shall deal with your father in the morning.”
* * *
After a rather restless night filled with strange dreams, Freya woke up very early and decided to go and watch the sunrise from her rose garden. Putting on a simple muslin morning gown in gossamer blue and slinging a shawl over it, she crept down the stairs and out the back door in a pair of sturdy black walking shoes.
The house was just awakening with servants carrying firewood over to the kitchen to light the fires, the milk maids making their way to the kitchens as well with buckets full of milk, and the gardeners wheeling out their garden tools, ready to start the day. There was a quiet morning bustle that Freya enjoyed. Cauldrons of water were put on the boil for everyone’s morning baths, the chef supervised two kitchen maids in the kneading and shaping of bread before it was put in the oven, someone collected eggs from the chicken coop next to the stables, and the grooms led the horses out for their morning rides.
It was all so comfortingly familiar.
It’s not that she had forgotten that her father was present—it was that she could put him to the back of her mind and just enjoy the morning. She had a feeling he would have a lot to say to her when he had the chance. She sat down between rose bushes, leaning in to take in the heady scent of her roses.
I’ve missed you.She smiled, her eyes closed.
The sound of approaching footsteps had her whirling around, eyes opening wide. She relaxed when she saw that it was just Isabella. With a smile, she patted the grass next to her, and her sister sat down with a long sigh.
“When do you think Father will be gone?” she asked.
“Well, good morning to you too. I slept well, thank you for asking.”
Isabella slanted her a sidelong glance. “Good morning, Freya,” she said sarcastically. “And how did you sleep?”
Freya smiled cheekily. “I slept well as I said; did you not hear me?”
Isabella punched her lightly on the arm, pouting playfully.
Freya clutched her arm in exaggerated pain. “Oh, such unladylike behavior. What would Father say?”
Immediately, Isabella stopped smiling and frowned. “The house is somehow darker with him in it,” she said ominously.
Freya did not want to encourage her sister’s sentiments by agreeing with her out loud, so she merely rubbed Isabella’s shoulder consolingly.
“Yesterday, he was quite rude to William,” Isabella continued. “I wanted to shout at him, but I was scared.” She ducked her head, looking ashamed.
Freya felt a pang of regret for all the times she’d let their father just say whatever he wanted to her. She had thought that if she made no trouble, then no one else would need to feel the brunt of his anger.
I should have fought back. I should have shown Isabella how to. Now, look at us.
She swallowed back her anger and guilt, getting to her feet. “Come on; let's go to the dining room. I’m sure breakfast is served since father usually gets up so early. We can find out when he’s leaving.”
Isabella gave her a wide-eyed glance. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I am. Why would I not be?”
She led the way, head held high, while Isabella followed in her wake.
