Page 32 of How to Capture a Duke

How could one woman cause so much disruption?

He eyed the doorway connecting their chambers then shook his head. He didn’t want to become accustomed to using that door. It posed a temptation that he could not allow himself to cross. He threw open his chamber door, strode to the adjoining room, and stopped in his tracks.

His wife’s room was in complete disarray. His housekeeper, a maid, and two footmen were all at work. The footmen were in the process of dragging furniture from the room. Mrs. Ludson was removing dark-blue velvet curtains from the windows, and the maid was bent on hands and knees, picking up the discarded fabric.

On second look, the maid was his wife. Olivia was dressed in a plain blue gown. Her fair hair was in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Oblivious to his presence, bent over, she continued to work, displaying a curvaceous arse.

Tristan dragged his gaze away from the tempting sight. “What is g…g-oing on here?”

Everyone turned to him in the doorway.

“Your Grace.” Mrs. Ludson was first to speak. “The duchess has requested that we make some changes.”

“That’s right.” Olivia stood, brushed her hands on an apron tied at her waist, and approached. “The room had a rather gloomy feel.”

It had been his mother’s. As far as he recalled, his parent had never had a happy disposition.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Olivia asked him.

A small smudge of dirt marred the tip of her nose. He wanted to reach out and brush it away. “No.”

“No, you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind.”

Her eyes sparkled, and his chest tightened uncomfortably at her smile. The room felt suddenly too small.

“Perhaps you can help,” she said.

“Help?” His nerves tightened.

“I’ve selected two types of wallpaper. Which do you prefer?” Two swatches of paper appeared before him. One had yellow, blue, and pink flowers; the other was of a Chinoiserie print of bamboo. His wife stood close, her head bent as she studied the swatches, and her lavender scent wafted to him. Was it the tantalizing scent of her soap or a faint perfume? She looked just as beautiful in a plain gown without any fripperies, lace, or embroidery as she did when he’d first seen her standing in the stables of Rosehill.

“Well, which do you prefer?” She looked up at him, her gaze innocent.

His attention returned to the wallpaper. “The floral one.” It reminded him of their country gallop through the fields of wildflowers.

She clapped her hands in excitement. “Excellent. We have similar tastes. I was drawn to that print as well.”

“Then why ask me?” he asked, his voice tense.

He regretted the question and the tone of his voice as soon as he’d said the words. Her lovely smile faltered, and a stab of pain lit her lovely eyes. He wanted to take it back.

“You needn’t fear any inconvenience to your schedule, Your Grace. The work shall be finished by the end of the day.”

…

Olivia stormed into her sister’s office at the Raven Club. “I have tried to be pleasant, but the duke is impossible!”

“How so?” Ellie set down her quill and leaned back in the oversized leather chair behind the desk. A ledger was open on the desk; a row of meticulous, tiny black figures lined the first column.

Olivia collapsed in one of the armchairs before the desk. “He complains over every slight change. Oh, he said I could decorate my own chamber as I feel fit, but his amicable attitude swiftly changed after I showed him options of paper for the walls. He glared at me and his jaw hardened like a lump of granite as if he couldn’t wait for me to complete my task and leave him in peace.”

Ellie rubbed her chin with a thumb and forefinger and studied her thoughtfully before finally answering. “Your actions are making him uncomfortable. For a man who has kept to himself for years, this is progress.”

Olivia flung her hands out in exasperation. “Progress? He is a bear!”

“Do not give up so easily, Olivia. I’ve told you that the Raven Club’s greatest asset is not money but information. I’ve learned something about your husband.”