Page 70 of The Duke's Spinster Bride
She had not thought it would be possible for Frederick’s colour to deepen any further, and yet somehow it did. She took his hand gently in hers.
“You need not be embarrassed. I think it is rather sweet.” She squeezed his hand. “It is nice to see you so excited about something that it causes you to embrace your inner bard.”
“I just really enjoy my toast and jam. To be honest, it is a leftover from childhood. I used to sing silly little songs about all sorts of things, now I mostly whistle.”
“Because you are such a dignified man?” Andrea teased. “Perhaps you should sing me the full song.”
Frederick laughed. “We shall see, after all you seem to be rather enamoured with my musical prowess.”
She smiled at him. “Honestly, I am surprised I have not heard you sing about it before now. We have jam on toast most days.”
“Perhaps today, the jam is exceptionally good. Or I am just in a good mood.”
“And what has put you in a good mood?”
“I will give you one guess.” His eyes flitted to hers, the blue of them darkening with such intensity that her breath seemed to vanish in an instant.
Andrea felt her heart speed up, tumbling around her chest as she fought to try and keep a hold of even the vaguest thought tumbling around her brain.
Frederick canted his head towards her. “Are you not going to guess?”
Andrea shook her head, her tongue licking lips that were almost as dry as a desert. She did not trust herself to speak.
Frederick smiled at her. “A pity.”
He pushed his seat away from the table and strode from the dining room, munching his piece of toast and singing to himself as he went.
Andrea watched him go, a pulling sensation filling her chest. “Will he ever stop having this effect on me?”
She could not tell if she wanted it to stop or not. Shaking her head, she made her way into the garden. “He is far too dangerous.”
She squinted in the sunlight, recalling the description of the leaves she had read in ‘A midwife’s helper: A compendium of herbs for women and their daughters’. She was fairly certain she had seen the plant on the eastern most part of the garden.
She spotted it and let out a smile, her thoughts drifting to Frederick and his silly little song. She found herself humming it as she carefully harvested the plant and placed it in a small cloth bag.
She wandered back towards her room, the bag clutched tight in her hand as she tried to decide what to wear. She sat down on the bed with a flump, running her hands along her bag of herbs.
I want a real marriage, and sooner or later that will mean… And I want that but… Am I ready for children? Will I ever be?She swallowed.
“Are you decent?” Frederick peered his head around the doorframe and into the room.
Andrea hastily tucked the small bag of herbs into her bedside drawer, trying not to draw too much attention to it. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she swallowed with difficulty. She noticed his eyes follow her movement as she put the herbs away.
Will he ask about them?“You know, it is a bit pointless to ask if one is sufficiently dressed and then peek your head into a room like some peeping tom.” She forced herself not to look at her bedside table. “It is lucky I am fully dressed.”
“You were the one who suggested we share a bedroom, dear Duchess. And that means sometimes, I need to interrupt you so that I can get the clothes I need to prepare for the day.” Frederick grinned at her.
Andrea flushed, her hand unconsciously reaching out to stroke the side of the bed that he usually slept in. It was not as though she had anything to be embarrassed about.
They were married, after all, and even if they were not, the most scandalous thing that had happened between them was that Frederick had kissed her publicly.
And that she fell asleep in his arms most nights. But that was as far as things went.Why am I even thinking about this?
“And was there something in particular you were looking for?” Andrea asked, immensely grateful that her voice sounded no where near as flustered as she felt.
“My cravat.” He motioned to his neck while half heartedly peering about the room.
“Which one?” Andrea furrowed her brow.
