Three days of agony, purely to wed her. Under different circumstances, she might have been flattered. As it was, she merely wondered about the extent of his scarring.
It was unlikely she would ever find out.
“Tell me about your sister,” she said as they swayed down a small country lane in the depths of Wiltshire. The land was very different from the wilds of the Yorkshire Dales, but she thought she could learn to love the green, gently rolling hills and trees.
“My sister?” He considered the question. “She’s eighteen years of age and feels herself very ready for London society, despite never having experienced it before. She can be stubborn and likes romance books more than I think is good for her.” He paused as though considering his words, and she was struck again with how much he loved his sister. At first glance, he appeared stern and imposing, but he obviously had the capacity for softness. “If she listens to me, I consider that a hard-won victory. She delights in fashion of all kinds and has a secret intention to bleed the estate dry to finance her whims, I’m quite sure.”
“Does she have a governess?”
“No. During the school year, she attends a finishing school in Bath.”
“She boards there?”
“For better or worse. Given my current seclusion, I thought it would be good for her.” He frowned, and she felt for him, making all these decisions for what sounded a very spirited lady.
“Is she accomplished?”
“Exceedingly.”
“Pretty?”
“I will leave you to determine the answer to that question,” he said. “We’ll be there shortly. If you look out the window when we crest the next hill, the house will come into view.”
Obediently, Christiana looked, and when they’d broached the top of the hill, she had to hold back a gasp.
Hugh had said ‘house’ as though she were not looking at one of the largest and grandest mansions she had ever laid eyes on. Built midway in the past century—at a guess—the building was made from pale stone, pillars across the front two wings, and what appeared to be thousands of tiny windows glittering in the light.
“My grandfather built a moat around the back of the house,” Hugh informed her now. “A flight of fancy, I assure you, and extremely impractical. Once you’re feeling more established, you can help me decide whether to fill it in, and what to replace it with.”
She let out a choked laugh. “A moat?”
“Pretentious, isn’t it?” He raised his one good eyebrow, and she wanted to laughagain.
This was absolutely not what she had anticipated from the Beast of Somerset.
“Does Amelia have no opinions on the matter?”
“Amelia is not the mistress of this house.” He said the words evenly, but she felt the weight behind them. “Soon enough, shewill not be living here and thus does not make these crucial decisions.”
“And yet I, a stranger, can?”
“You are no longer a stranger; you are my wife.”
She smiled then, letting him see she had no intention of arguing with him over this. “Is that how she’ll see it?”
“It’s my hope,” he said, “that you will both come to be fond of each other.”
If he had agreed to marry her with the hope they would get along, Christiana could not help thinking he had made a vast misstep—in all her years, Christiana had only cultivated one friend. A young lady who adored fashion, Society, and romance novels was not likely to be someone with whom she would be popular.
Still, for the duke’s sake, she would try.
“There’s one other thing.” The duke hesitated, frowning when she glanced up at him. “Amelia doesn’t know that I’m coming home with a wife.”
Chapter Eight
Christiana’s head wasstill spinning five minutes later when they pulled up the long gravel driveway to the imposing house. His sister didn’t know he was married.
She didn’t know.