Elizabeth shivered, uncertain what to do next. She knew that the Wycherleys prided themselves upon eccentricity, and that Daniel would be another in their mould, but she had not expected quite so much. She wanted a Duke to be a Duke, not a labourer or a village Artisan. Daniel had certainly been brought up to be the Duke, unlike his grandfather, but clearly it had not had much impact upon him.
Wondering what on earth her future would be like with a strange man who preferred bees to the ton, she took a quick sip of the beer. It was dark and strong, and tasted of the countryside. She put the mug down with a grimace.