“That is a wonderful idea,” he agreed.
“In the afternoon,” Marina continued, “I have invited my sister and a friend for tea. Perhaps you could join us.”
“I am afraid that I will be out at parliament this afternoon. Perhaps another time.”
Marina felt that their conversation was dwindling. Perhaps he was losing interest. Her father always said that men detested discussing the monotony of domestic life with their wives (though he had always indulged his). She was sure that when breakfast was over, she would not see him again until the morning, and she still had one more thing to ask of him. Now was her chance.
“That is very well. Surely you are available to accompany me to the ball to be hosted by the Harringtons tomorrow evening. Their eldest daughter, Miss Kathrin, is a very dear friend of mine.”
There was a pause, and silence stretched like an unwanted intruder between the two of them. Burdened by it, Marina continued, “Olivia is sure that she will get an offer of marriage after this ball if her favorite suitor fills her dance card again. And Kathrin?—”
“I do not think I will be able to attend.”
Marina stared, waiting for him to elaborate, and when he did not, she asked, “Why ever not? I did not think you had other engagements.”
“You are correct. I do not have other engagements.”
“Then what is it?”
“I simply do not see the appeal. I do not like to dance. I do not like large crowds of curious people staring at us or drinking too much and becoming loud, belligerent pests.”
“What am I to do?”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“It would be improper of me to attend the first ball since our wedding without you.”
“Won’t your family be there?”
“Yes.”
“Then I do not see what would be improper about it. Who will be there who is above your station? Will the Queen be in attendance?”
“No, but?—”
“Then go. Enjoy yourself. Spend time with your sister and your dear friend. In fact, we have not settled the matter of your allowance. Go into town tomorrow and order a dress. I willdetermine the amount you need based on the cost, so get the most expensive garb you can think of.”
“Phillip,” she said, startling him into looking up from his plate at her for the first time in several minutes, “I do not wish to have the most expensive dress at the ball. I wish to attend with my husband. Why do I have the feeling that it is too much to ask of you?”
“Because it is,” he snapped. His eyes narrowed, throwing a harsh look at her. “I have given you my answer, Marina. It is final. I suggest that you do not bring it up again.”
She was appalled by his sudden cruelty and angered by the sensation of tears prickling in her eyes, threatening to gather and then fall. Without a word, Marina stood from her place and left the breakfast room. The Duke did not call after her, nor did he follow. She could not, for the life of her, fathom what was going on with his behavior—kind one minute and cold the next.
CHAPTER 10
“Your Grace.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“You have a caller.”
Phillip looked up from the paperwork on his desk and furrowed his brow. Who could be calling this early? The butler brought forth the tray with the card on it, and he knew immediately by the stationery who it would be. Of course.
Who else?
“Send him up,” he sighed. “Whether I tell him that I am busy or not, he will still appear in my doorway.”
The butler nodded, and moments later, Emmanuel Hayward sat before Phillip in the chair opposite his desk.
