Read Online The Duke's Disaster (R) by Grace Burrowes - Free Book Online Page A

impertinence. “I’ve a morning gift for you. You needn’t stammer over it, but feel free to smile.”
    “That is hardly necessary.”
    “The smiling? You must do as you see fit, of course. I am not ordering you to smile.”
    “Gracious of you, Anselm.” She was smiling into her teacup as well.
    They could be civil with each other, they could communicate effectively, and they could share a meal companionably.
    Noah bit off another piece of warm, buttered toast, mostly in charity with the world, because despite odds to the contrary, there was hope.
    * * *

    “This is hopeless.” The duke scowled at Thea’s hair, such condemnation in three words, Thea wanted to snatch the brush from his hands.
    “It isn’t hopeless.” She held her hand up over her shoulder. “My hair is merely thick and a bit disheveled. Give me the brush, and I’ll set it to rights.”
    Anselm passed her the brush and stomped off toward the dressing room. Despite the peevish look in his icy blue eyes, Thea had the sense her husband had been angling for that surrender. He’d actually made significant progress on the briar patch that was her unbound hair in the morning, and it had felt good, so good, to have somebody else tend to her at the start of her day.
    The start of her married life.
    “Given recent developments,” the duke’s voice rang out from their connected dressing rooms, “I’ll send a note into Town and wave off the Furies.”
    “Beg pardon?”
    “My dear sisters.” Anselm emerged, clothing over his arm. “My brother was up at university doing some end-of-term studies of flora and fauna, which is likely an excuse to gape at women and swill hops. He’ll join us the day after tomorrow, which can’t be helped. What do you think, the white or the cream?”
    “White,” Thea said as in her mirror she saw him hold first one then the other shirt against a blue waistcoat embroidered with silver paisley designs.
    “White it shall be.” The duke laid his clothing over a chair and disappeared again, only to emerge bearing a shining pair of black tall boots. “There wasn’t time to ask to whom you’d like a wedding announcement sent, but I suppose you have a list?”
    Anselm was brusque, imperious, and oddly thoughtful. Thea could get used to the combination when he topped it off by asking her opinion of his wardrobe.
    “I have a very short list,” Thea said, a miserable comment on her circumstances. Since her parents’ deaths, her circle of acquaintances had dwindled and dwindled, until her brother’s unsavory cronies had kept all but the oldest associations from withering.
    “Doesn’t a certain gentleman need to have his face rubbed in your successful marriage?” Anselm asked, ever so casually.
    Well, damn, this again. That gentleman—who hardly qualified for the name—would be the ruin of their marriage.
    “There is no such gentleman, Your Grace.”
    He regarded Thea steadily, then whisked off his dressing gown.
    “Your Grace!”
    “Hmm?” Anselm disappeared behind a privacy screen, and Thea realized he’d just deliberately unnerved her with his nudity, a retaliation for disappointing him so badly the night before. He wouldn’t speak of it, oh no, but he wouldn’t leave her any peace over it, either.
    Which was only fair, she supposed, plaiting her hair into one thick skein and pinning it to her head in a coronet. Anselm was raised to observe certain standards of behavior, and she must not allow herself to mistake civility for friendship.
    Ever again.
    “I had the maids brush out your habit,” he said from behind his screen. “It will do for present purposes, but you’ll need a wardrobe.”
    “I have a wardrobe.” Thea rose and poured herself another cup of tea. The blend had to be private, because the taste was rich, smooth, spiced with jasmine, and altogether delectable. The quality of the tea had Thea wondering just how wealthy her new husband was.
    And how self-indulgent. Unbidden, she recalled the