“What did you call me?” “I called you ‘darling.’ We discussed at dinner yesterday that I must call you something. I refuse to address you as Ashbury or Duke, and you didn’t like ‘dear husband’ or ‘sweeting’ or ‘heart.’” She motioned toward the shuttlecock lying on the floor. “I believe it’s your turn, darling.” “I am no one’s darling.” He batted the shuttlecock with a fierce backhand swat. To her surprise, Emma managed to scramble under the falling missile and return it. “I don’t know if you have a say in that.” “I’m a duke. I have a say in everything.”
