Chapter 6
Chapter Six
All that could be heard inside the carriage was the rhythmic clatter of the wheels.
What had she done?
Daphne wondered if she had made a terrible mistake and if each turn of the wheel brought her closer to a life she would hate.
I agreed to this.
Daphne reminded herself of as much as the grinding of the wheels grated on her already fragile nerves. Her posture was rigid, and her hands clasped together in her lap as if in prayer. She idly noted that the white silk of her gloves creased with her fidgeting.
While it was cold outside, the carriage was warm. Cozy. It could be how it was built or it could be the way the Duke’s eyes were on her, heavy and probing.
Daphne wished she was as relaxed as her new husband, who reclined in his seat even as he still dominated the small space with his presence.
His face, which normally looked carve from stone, created harder lines as shadows fell on it.
The smirk on his face made her wonder if he could hear her heart thundering in her chest.
She wrung her hands and continued to fidget with her gloves. The Duke leaned in closer to her and stared at her odd, perturbed movements. She was embarrassed at how she could not hide what she was feeling.
“If you clutch those gloves any tighter, they’ll confess your sins for you,” the Duke teased.
His voice cut into the silence that surrounded them and startled her. She blushed furiously, realizing he was right—not about the sins but the way she was clutching her gloves.
“I have no sins to confess, Your Grace,” she said, giving him a feeble smile. She did straighten herself, not wanting the Duke to see her so ruffled.
“None at all?” he asked, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes slightly. “Not even traipsing through the forest at night searching for medicine?”
She gasped out a laugh at that, but managed to retort, “That was hardly sinful, Your Grace.”
“Ah. You may be right. I cannot tell.” He reclined against his own seat once more but returned to fixing her with a critical stare. “Until we met that night, it had been a long time since someone had lectured me in such a manner.”
“You said as much,” Daphne recollected. “You told me you had sermonized to a group of men earlier in the evening, but then…”
The Duke barked a hearty laugh. “Did I say that? I sermonized?”
Daphne shrugged. “I cannot remember your words exactly, but I do know the impression they made on me.” She twisted her fingers together once more and stared at the strained fabric of her gloves.
“And what impression was that?”
Daphne ached to lift her head and glimpse the sly smile she was sure graced his face, but she could not bring herself to meet his intense gaze.
“I was struck by your contradictory ways,” she said softly. “On that night, you seemed to be one sort of man in one breath, but then, in another, you transformed into a wholly different person.”
She paused and chanced to look at him. His expression was fixed in a curious manner. It was evident he was contemplating her observations.
“I saw the same turn in your countenance before when we were in the church. You were polite while talking to the Nicholsons, but when Lord Amberwell approached, you…”
“Amberwell knows that I mean nothing when I speak to him gruffly,” the Duke interrupted.
“But why should you treat your friend in such a way? He came to your wedding ceremony today to give his support. Did he not deserve a kind word from you in return? Could you not have bestowed a smile upon him?”
The Duke considered the matter for a long moment then said quietly, “I leave it to you to advise me in these instances going forward. A proper wife like you will certainly improve my manners and quite possibly my reputation as well.”
“Oh. It seems that you do gain something in this arrangement beyond just having a wife,” she commented lightly, hoping that he meant to compliment her by giving her words such credence.
“I gain a great deal by making you my wife,” he murmured. “Never forget that I asked you to be my bride. I offered you my hand.”
They were quiet for an extended time after that.
Daphne could not help but wonder how her new husband’s words could be both compelling and unsettling.
She waited for him to say something else, to extend their conversation further, but words never materialized.
Instead, he continued staring at her as if he meant to ferret out all her secrets just by looking at her for this prolonged period.
The amber color reminded her of the name she had heard her brothers-in-law call him.
The Wolf Duke.
“You have grown rather quiet, Your Grace,” she whispered. She did not want to disturb him, but at the same time she did not like sitting across from him in the carriage and merely wondering about his nickname.
“Oh? I thought you were the one who chose silence,” he retorted, a hand rubbing idly at his well-trimmed beard.
“I suppose I prefer quiet company, but today, of all days, I should like very much to chat.”
The Duke snorted. “I am not sure what you mean by suggesting that we chat. I do not make it a point to converse lightly. I suppose you could say that I often save my voice.”
Daphne frowned. “Why?” She leaned closer to him and asked smartly, “Must you preserve your voice so that you are able to sing a tune later?”
She was surprised by the playfulness of her question the moment it popped from her lips, but she was rewarded for making the effort when a wry grin stole over the Duke’s face.
“I will not sing… not tonight, at any rate.”
Feeling heartened by this response, Daphne persisted. “Then, why do you use your voice sparingly?”
“I have learned, while conducting business, that it is best to speak only when I can capture the attention of all those assembled.”
“Ah,” she said, thinking back to her conversation with her family about how Wolfcrest earned his income. “Your business ventures. You take those seriously then? I mean, you only speak to your business associates when it is necessary to assert yourself?”
“You could say that, I suppose,” he said, his eyes luminous under the carriage lamp. It was still early, but it had gotten dim outside.
“Are you being purposively cryptic, Your Grace?” she asked.
The man certainly knew how to make her heart race excitedly. Whereas moments ago, she’d been twisting her gloved fingers together, now she was leaning toward him, pulling answers from her new husband.
“Am I?” he asked, again bouncing back the question toward her. “Or are you the one who is afraid to ask what you truly want to know?”
“What do I wish to know?” she asked, realizing that she was playing his game.
His eyes studied her for a long second. She wished that she could maintain her composure equally well, but now that they had traveled this far together, her curiosity could not be concealed. She wished to know something about her companion before they reached their destination.
Knowing that he would not crack or bother to answer the question she had slung back at him, she dared to share what was truly on her mind.
“Perhaps, I want to know why Briarwood is afraid of you. If you were just another man, he would have found a way to intimidate you. Many times, Briarwood made it clear that he would not cower before my brother. So, why? Why did he back away rather than fight with you?”
“It looks like you are not holding back!” he exclaimed, his voice sounding delighted—but his eyes became hooded. Guarded.
“It looks like you can handle it.”
He grinned then.
“Did you just flirt with me, wife?” he asked, teasingly.
She blushed, partly because she suspected she probably did and was not even aware of it. “No.” She was flustered. “I did not mean to flirt with you, Your Grace. You, however, need to answer my question.”
“Mm. Briarwood is a wild card. I was shocked to hear the way he spoke to your brother,” Wolfcrest said. “But I am not your brother, the young Marquess, and you are right. Briarwood cannot intimidate me.”
“But what about my brothers-in-law?” Daphne ventured. “They are all…”
“Lately, I have sought to make myself aware of you and your family’s situation. It has not escaped my notice that your brothers-in-law are powerful, being Dukes themselves. But rest assured, I have power that goes beyond—beneath—the ton.”
“Like Lord Briarwood, then,” she remarked.
“To a certain degree,” he replied.
“Have you committed any crimes?” she asked, genuinely curious.
She was thinking about his men, the ones who seemed like they would do anything. Then, she thought about how Briarwood, a man with his own questionable connections, feared her new husband.
Daphne did not expect the question to have such an effect on Wolfcrest. The Duke stiffened at the mention of crimes.
“Do you want to see me as a villain, wife? Do you truly want to paint me with the same brush as a scoundrel like Briarwood?” he asked gruffly.
“Oh, no, no,” Daphne protested. “I am grateful that you stepped in and offered to marry me.”
The Duke leaned in closer to her once more, looking her in the eye then he said, “Men like Briarwood should be taught a lesson. He had no right to impose upon you as he did. I take delight in showing him the error of his ways.”
“Are you telling me that we are bound by law so that you can prove a point?” she asked.
“It is part of it,” he admitted.
It made her heart sink a little. But what did she expect? She had just met the man. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t know her. Her mother thought there must be something to gain from this marriage, and she was right.
There was something the Duke wanted.
It was just not what the Dowager Countess imagined.
“What is the other part?” Daphne dared to ask.
The Duke’s eyes lit with mirth.