Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 02] by The Duke Next Door

easy with others—it had always been a mystery to him.
    He’d never understood women in particular, for they made even less sense to him. Men were rather closer to machines. They had a limited number of responses—aggression, cowardice, aggression to mask cowardice—and one simply ran the possibilities through one’s mind to calculate what response one ought to make. Calder had found that an attitude of arrogant dismissal covered any number of possible expectations with men.
    But not for Deirdre. She swept aside any intimidating pose of his to reveal the emptiness behind it. She
forced him to reach deeper than anyone had ever done—even Rafe.
    He forced himself to raise a hand to knock, knowing that his appearance would kill the candid mood. It usually did. He entered at Deirdre’s word to find that Meggie had hidden herself. No matter. After all, he wanted the two of them to be company for each other.
    Deirdre rose from her casual lolling, smoothly stepping before the dismembered dish of something probably forbidden. Calder had intended to politely request that she join him for breakfast.
    “You will rise early tomorrow. One does not spend the day in meaningful pursuit if one spends the day in bend” He halted abruptly. Had he truly just uttered those words?
    Of course, her chin rose and defiance flashed in her eyes. “Indeed? And why is that?”
    “You will come to breakfast,” he said gruffly.
    Oh, very nice, you ass.
    Damn it, he couldn’t think straight with her standing there, golden-haired goddess of disdain that she was, reigning over his beastly hulk with a superior derision.
    “I’ll do precisely as I please,” she said, “for you won’t be here to see anyway. Aren’t you vastly overdue at one of your factories?”
    He was as a matter of fact. The requests for his presence were growing more urgent by the day. “I will be breaking fast at home. You and Lady Margaret will join met.”
    She raised a golden brow. “I don’t take orders, my lord.”
    He gazed at her without easing his intensity a jot. “You
will rise and come down to breakfast tomorrow, after which you will spend every moment of the day with Lady Margaret. I’ve told Fortescue to make sure of it.”
    She folded her arms. “Poor Fortescue. Do you always make him play the enforcer? A braver man would do it himself.” She smirked. “Or at least try to.”
    He refused to be baited. “You will rise early and come to breakfast with Lady Margaret and myself. You will dine with me every evening and you will dress for supper.” He narrowed his eyes at her, stopping her retort. “You will do these things, my lady, or you will find there are a great many more things to lose than a few gowns and parties. I need not allow you to come to London at all.”
    She paled then. It did not satisfy him to see it, but Society-bred that she was, it was the worst threat he could muster. He would never lay a cruel hand on her, nor would he lie to frighten her. He did not want her afraid, he wanted her to grow up. He wanted an adult to share his life with, not a petulant child. He already had one of those.
    “You don’t seem a cruel man, my lord,” she said calmly, though her eyes shot sparks. “So it must be that you don’t truly realize what you are saying. To banish a wife to the country would only cause endless gossip. I would be reputed as mad or deathly ill. You would be accused of making me so, or even of killing me off—you know how tongues wag on.”
    She was quite right, damn it. He’d not thought it through. She had that effect on him, making him erupt in impulsive ultimatums.
    Deirdre clasped her hands behind her back to hide the fact that they were shaking. She’d run from Tessa so
that she could be free of oppression and tyranny. Damn Brookhaven. “Unfortunately, my lord, I know you to be a man of your word. Even now that I have pointed out your mistake, you will feel compelled to do precisely as you have threatened should I