Page 17 of A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

He chuckled. “You may take the little traitor with you.”

“That language is why he prefers my company, Your Grace. Good night.” She caught him smiling as she left.

After her conversation with him tonight, she was left feeling more puzzled. She was sure that he did not eat with them because he was hiding from her; she was also sure that he enjoyed his dinner even though she had not been there to see it. After all, he had praised her. But then why had he not asked for a better meal before? Why had he moved as though he was going to kiss her but did not?

The answers to these questions would not be found in speculation. She must know him better. She must see the man beneath the hard exterior.

Harry winced the moment he stepped out into the hallway from his chambers. Everywhere was bright. The damned curtains that had been shut for years were open.

And only one person was brave enough to commit such an act. His wife. It had only been two days but she was already filling every part of his life. His food had changed, his castle was changing, and he had lost his once-loyal companion, Cato.

The brightness increased as he descended, but he did all he could to ignore it. This was a matter that he needed to address with her. When he arrived at the breakfast room, however, he found something that immediately disarmed him. His wife was seated at the table, looking beautiful in a white dress, her red hair styled elegantly atop her head.

Her eyes illuminated when she saw him, causing him to wish he had put forth more effort in his appearance.

“Oh, Harry!” Belinda clapped her hands, a wide grin spreading across her features. “You are here!”

“Indeed, Aunty.” He turned to his wife to greet her and found himself wishing to address her by her Christian name. However, he bowed and murmured, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Your Grace,” she returned with a small smile. Cato, who lay at her feet, snorted his welcome, and Harry shook his head, amazed at how the dog had taken to her.

“I find myself on the verge of being blinded this morning,” he began quietly as he poured some coffee into a cup and took a sip.

“Do you have a natural aversion to the light?” she asked softly.

Harry almost nodded but reasoned against it. If he lied, she would eventually discover it, and he did not want the conflict that could ensue. Instead of responding in any manner, he drew the basket of toast toward him and scooped some jam.

“Mr. Belmont wishes to host us for dinner,” he announced. “His cottage is located about five miles from Grayfield.” Gerard had given him the invitation the day before.

“Gerard has never invited us to dinner before,” Belinda observed, her cheeks flaming in the manner they usually did at the mention of his friend. Oh, he was aware of his aunt’s sentiments, and had been curious to see if she would act upon them.

“We did not have a duchess before,” Harry said.

“And he is a bachelor,” his aunt said, her lips twitching.

He leaned toward his wife. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “Did you?”

He nodded, stifling the urge to tell her how lovely she looked that morning. In the daylight, her eyes had some green in them. Harry began to feel a familiar need rising within him, and he immediately returned his attention to his food.

As soon as he had finished eating, he stood. “It was pleasant spending the morning with you,” he murmured, then gave Belinda a nod before hurrying out of the room.

“Mr. Meyer is waiting for you, Your Grace,” Lander informed him as he emerged in the hallway.

“Have him meet me in my study,” he said without stopping.

He had been very close to kissing her the night before, and it had taken no small measure of willpower to not stare at her this morning. What was happening to him? Why was his body aching as if he were an inexperienced youth? Even when he had been younger, his desire had been controllable.

It was not only his wife’s grace and beauty that made him wish to consummate their marriage. Harry was unable to determine exactly what it was, but he wished to discover it, and that meant spending time in her company, which he had been reluctant to do.

His steward opening the door interrupted his thoughts and he looked up. “Your Grace,” Meyer began as he stepped into the study, “I come bearing unfortunate news.”

“What is it?”

“The tenants are angry,” he said, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “The vicar preaches to them to be patient, but I fear their troubles are too great for them to heed the words.”

His jaw clenched, and he felt the scar that ran across one side of his face tighten. “A man cannot heed the word of God when he is hungry.”

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