Page 26 of The Phantom Duke
She pursed her lips, wondering if he had thought better of his proposal and was now seeking an escape. She hoped not because of Gilbert. There could be no other possible reason. It had nothing to do with his physique. Or his charisma.
She felt herself blushing at such thoughts and buried herself in her wine glass, thankful for the dim light. The darkness would provide some measure of protection, for he likely would not notice that her thoughts had turned to a decidedly improper direction.
“You have demands, Lady Maria,” he said.
“Terms, actually. To establish the parameters of our contract,” Maria said.
She had memorized these and added a few of her own on the way to the house. Maria cleared her throat, remembering Evelina’s advice. She must not reveal precisely how desperate she was.
“I will have the freedom of the house,” she said. “I shall be able to come and go as I please.”
The duke frowned. “But of course. That is the entire point.”
Maria pressed her lips together, disliking his tone.
He is arrogant and dismissive. I could not live with such a man, no matter how handsome half of his face seems to be.
“My friends will be allowed to visit. At least my three closest friends.”
She met his gaze. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes blaze? Maria found herself becoming breathless and took another sip of wine.
“I will not be isolated,” she continued.
“I accept, but only if they are confined to a specific room. They do not have your freedom to roam the house.”
“But they may explore the grounds.” Maria was telling, not asking.
“Yes, of course. Wander the grounds to your heart’s content. And theirs, too.”
“So you have nothing to hide in the grounds but many secrets here in the house,” Maria said, teasingly.
She was trying to lighten the mood. The duke seemed overly somber to her. Perhaps if she behaved slightly flirtatiously, he would respond, and they could share laughter. A smile at least. If they were to be married, they must find one another tolerable, at least. Rather than expressing any amusement, the duke’s eyes narrowed.
“Secrets?” he asked.
“I jest. Merely a comment on your excessive demand for privacy. Even from your own future wife.”
“I do not appreciate being the subject of jest. I regard this as a serious undertaking. Do you not?”
The butler entered at that moment with the soup course. He flicked out a napkin to spread over Maria’s lap before bowing his way out of the room.
“Oxtail, a specialty of Mrs. Whitby, my housekeeper,” Damien said, inhaling deeply over the soup.
Maria had to admit it smelled delicious. Butter, carrots, and well-cooked meat all mingled in the air, creating an aroma so alluring that her mouth watered before she took the first bite. She had eaten little that day, and her stomach clenched with anxiety over this foolhardy plan. She was now ravenous.
“I did not intend the jest to be at your expense. I am used to a bantering conversation with my friends. Perhaps, poking gentle fun.”
“Friends now, are we?”
She put down her soup spoon with a clatter, her temper like a smoldering flame.
“Damien. This was your suggestion, but I am met at every turn with hostility. If you have thought better of your proposal, then tell me, please. I will leave, and you will not see me again.”
The duke stared at her for a long moment. His eyes seemed to bore into hers, and Maria bit down the sudden, impulsive need to apologize. She was not—and had never been—a contrite woman, but it abruptly fell upon her the importance of winning his approval. Gilbert’s happiness was at stake. The orphanage was at stake!
“I apologize,” he said, before Maria’s thoughts could form an apology. “I am… unused to the foibles of polite conversation. This is who I am. I am giving you the freedom to choose: stay or walk away.”
Maria looked at him for a long, still moment. Her heart thumped in her chest as the look continued. A fanciful notion came over her that he could see her thoughts. If he could, she would blush to the roots of her hair.
