The Duchess looked at her husband with concern, her voice laced with consolation, "Why trouble yourself so? Engaging in a contest of wills with someone of mere knightly status, aren't you afraid of losing face?"
The Duke's face, usually the epitome of resolve, bore a troubled expression.
"Howard shows me far too little regard," he replied with a tinge of bitterness.
The Duchess tried to reason with him, "You can't speak of him in such terms. After all, he did send an envoy and fulfilled all the necessary formalities to the letter. We can't fault them on that account."
Rising from his seat, the Duke glanced down at the red carpet beneath his feet, his voice tinged with foreboding, "Howard is a dangerous man. I can't risk keeping him under my command. I don't want to end up like this carpet, trampled under his feet."
"Let it be," the Duchess urged, her voice a blend of wisdom and patience.
