“You will sit.” The iron note in his voice had her dropping back into her chair. “You forget that you are now a duchess. My wife.” His eyes closed, and he inhaled sharply. “Once we are back at Somerset Hall, you may retire when you choose, and the servants we keep will not gossip overmuch about it, but here we must do everything to keep scandal at bay.” He brought two fingers to the edge of his mask, scratching as though uncomfortable, and said in a quieter tone, “I would not have the servants here gossiping that you fled from me as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Please, at least stay until you’ve had something to eat. It has been a long day for us both.”
For a long moment, she held his gaze, measuring his will against hers. “For years,” she said tightly, “my father took every opportunity to give me orders, particularly when it went against my own desires and preferences. The reason I accepted this marriage was because I wanted something different for my future.”
The duke sighed, and to her surprise, rose and took the seat opposite her at the table. “I have no desire to be a tyrant,” he said. “But, as they say, one must walk a mile in another’s shoesto understand them—if you had walked in mine, you would understand why I make this request.”
“Request,” she repeated. “Not a command?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, but after another long moment, he too poured himself a glass of wine. “I would prefer it if you remained here until after we have eaten dinner. If you object to my presence enough that you cannot bear my company, however, I will put about that you are ill.”
“It’s not you,” she said. “Or your company. I just—” It was her wedding night, and she had never felt less like celebrating. She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“You dislike your situation.” He took a sip of his wine and curled his lip. “Yes, I understand the sensation. But we must make the best of things. As far as is in my power, I will make you a good husband. You requested freedom, and if nothing else, I can give you that.”
“Aside from tonight,” she said slyly.
“Hearing that the Beast of Somerset’s bride fled from him on their wedding night might not reflect well on either of us.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a wry smile, but even she could see there was no humor in it. “I made the request for your sake as well as mine. You are the one who will have to venture into London next year with Amelia.”
Christiana tilted her chin. “I am a duchess now. What rumors can harm me?”
His black-gloved fingers traced along the rim of his glass. “You would be surprised.”
The door opened, and the innkeeper arrived with servants, bringing their dinner. Roast chicken, beef, and one meat pie made up the main course, along with some roasted potatoes and wilted vegetables that had seen better days.
Christiana wondered if the duke would complain, but he merely waved a hand and dismissed the servants from the room.“I prefer to serve myself,” he explained to Christiana, finally reaching up to remove his mask. “And it’s easier to eat without servants staring at me.”
“Is everyone you meet so rude?” she asked, allowing the duke to cut the meat and put a little on her plate. Now that she had the food in front of her, she found she was hungry, after all.
“I am a duke, and my face repulses them. Do you expect anything else?” Before she could answer, he gestured at the table. “Pie?”
“What do you suppose it has in it?”
“Game, presumably.” He lifted the lid and steam rose into the air. “And gristle.”
“How appealing.”
“I take it that’s ayes?”
“How could I refuse such a delicacy?” She held out her plate. “At least the pastry is good. The cook must have cold hands.”
He frowned. “Cold hands?”
“Everyone knows that in order to make superior pastry, one must have cold hands. My hands are perpetually warm, so my pastry is atrocious. At least, that’s what I tell myself.”
His face revealed not a flicker of emotion as he said, “And you have spent a great deal of time in the kitchen?”
“Shocking, isn’t it? But Father forced me to dismiss most of the servants, and we only had an old charwoman come in twice a week at one stage. Fortunately, she was kind enough to teach me until Father could afford another cook.”
“I see.”
“I also have a handful of mediocre accomplishments,” she said, “courtesy of my education at a finishing school.”
“Not a governess?”
“My mother preferred to send me away.” She forced the sting from the words and offered the duke a smile. “St. Mary’s came highly recommended.”
“But you disliked it?”
Had she been so obvious? “Only a little.”