Page 8 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
He was already halfway across the foyer, a stride which suggested he was determined to mount the staircase, power up its climb, and then vanish down the halls without so much as a word said.
The duke came to a sudden stop, turning slowly, a deep frown etched across his handsome face when he looked at her. “Yes?”
She blinked. “I… where are you going?”
“To my room.” He looked at her curiously, as if he was surprised that she was speaking to him.
“Your room?” She wore a look of bewilderment. “And what am I supposed to do?”
The duke bit into his lip and shut his eyes, giving his head a shake as he came into himself. “Yes… right. I should have…” He considered further, his brow furrowed tight. “My apologies, I should have said something.”
“And when should you have said it?” She folded her arms. “Now? In the carriage, perhaps? Any time after we married?”
“My meaning is, I should have told you that I will have the staff come to assist.” He looked about the large foyer as if expecting them to appear. “This is not my usual dwelling, and it slipped my mind to send word ahead.”
“Not your usual dwelling? What does that mean?”
“If you wait here, I will send someone down to attend you,” he answered, ignoring her question. “Any questions you have, they should be happy to help with. Is there anything else?”
Penelope could not help but gape at the man.
Is he serious? I understand that he wants this marriage no more than I do, but this is absurd! Surely, he can see that?
“And what of after that?” She was standing on the other side of the foyer, over a dozen feet separating them so she was forced to shout.
“What do you mean?”
“What do I…” Still, her expression was perplexed. “You are my husband. I am your wife. You… you do understand this?”
“Of course.”
“And this marriage.” She looked around the foyer, her confusion growing. “I understand that you likely did not wish for it, even if you agreed to such a thing. But that does not mean that… do you intend to ignore me from here on out?”
The duke studied her with curiosity. Was he surprised by the question? Or that she would dare ask him such a thing?
“I was led to believe that this would be a marriage of convenience,” he said at last.
“By whom?”
“That is not an answer.”
She blinked. “Well… yes, it is. But that does not mean we… we still need to discuss what is expected?”
“Expected?” He wore no emotion as he looked at her. “And what is expected, exactly?” Finally, he moved toward her. Long strides, cutting the distance between them in half in a matter of seconds.
In that moment, he was a mountain coming for her, and Penelope had to fight the urge to move back. He was so big, his stride so powerful and assured, and she felt small and weak by comparison. Her heart caught in her throat, and she thought he was going to move on her, push her back, do… she did not even know!
But he stopped short as if he was careful not to get too close.
“Well?” he pressed.
“I… I am not sure,” she said, feeling a little silly. But she was angry also, and she focused on that. “This might be a marriage of convenience but that does not mean… you and I… I wish to know what you expect.”
“There’s that word again.” He folded his arms and looked down at her. “Expect. Perhaps you should tell me what it is that you expect.”
“That is not how this is meant to go.”
“And you know this for fact?”
