“Precisely so.” The Dowager approved with a nod. “You possess a natural elegance, my dear. We merely refine what Providence has already bestowed.”

“She’s adapted remarkably well to Lady Oakley’s instruction,” Annabelle observed, walking alongside the Duke several paces behind his daughter and her grandmother.

“She respects Lady Oakley,” he replied as his gaze fixed upon his daughter’s retreating figure.

Annabelle recalled her suspicion that both father and daughter were in a stalemate of sorts and had yet to reconcile. She supposed his words confirmed it now.

“You have raised her remarkably well for a man alone,” she offered, surprising herself with the sincerity of the compliment.

He glanced at her, surprise evident in the slight lifting of his brow. “High praise indeed, coming from one who has previously found so much to criticize in my methods.”

“I am capable of revising my opinions when presented with new evidence,” she replied, meeting his gaze directly.

The afternoon sunlight caught the subtle flecks of blue in his grey eyes, softening their usual stormy aspect into something more akin to fog lifting from a summer lake.

“Perhaps you were simply trying your best to instill discipline in her the best way you knew how.”

There was a short silence.

“Thank you,” he said simply, the words carrying a weight that transcended their brevity.

The silence returned for several moments. The unexpected truce between them created a curious sense of companionship that Annabelle found simultaneously unsettling and oddly comfortable.

The steady rhythm of their steps, the shared observation of Celia’s progress, and the occasional brush of his sleeve against hers when the path narrowed, all created a sense of intimacy that both frightened and exhilarated her.

“Lady Oakley,” Celia called back suddenly, breaking their reverie, “might I walk ahead with Miss Lytton for a while? There’s a matter upon which I would value her perspective.”

Lady Oakley glanced back at them. Her shrewd eyes missed nothing as they traveled from Annabelle’s flushed cheeks to the Duke’s uncharacteristically relaxed posture.

“Of course, my dear. His Grace will escort me while you and Miss Lytton explore the path ahead.”

The Duke hesitated momentarily and his gaze met Annabelle’s with a flicker of uncertainty. She read the silent war in his mind and saw the moment he acquiesced.

“Very well,” he said finally, inclining his head. “Though do remain within sight.”

“Don’t fret, Your Grace,” Annabelle couldn’t resist adding as a teasing light entering her eyes when she moved to join Celia. “We’ll restrict ourselves to only the most mildly indecent topics. Courtship, corsets, and the occasional French novel.”

His eyes narrowed at her provocative words and his jaw tightening visibly, but it was not the hostility with which he’d once viewed her. No. The flash of heat in his gaze now sent an unexpected shiver of awareness down her spine, a reminder of the magnetic currents that seemed to flow between them whenever propriety’s barriers momentarily lowered.

“Miss Lytton—” he began, his tone carrying a warning edge that both irritated and thrilled her all at once.

“Come along, Your Grace,” Lady Oakley interjected smoothly. “You must tell me about the improvements you mentioned for the hospital committee. I find myself quite fascinated by modern medical advances.”

As they moved ahead, Annabelle caught Lady Oakley’s quietly murmured observation: “You enjoy poking the bear a bit too much, my dear.”

Annabelle could not suppress her grin.

Linking arms with Celia, Annabelle led her down the sunlit path, quietly pleased to see the girl come back to life now that they were free of her father’s watchful eye. With each step, Celia’s natural spirit returned like a butterfly finally freed from its chrysalis.

“You’re having a pleasant time in London, then?” she inquired, genuinely interested in the girl’s experience.

They passed a small gathering of children flying kites. Their colorful creations danced against the azure sky like fragments of captured rainbows.

“Oh, yes,” Celia replied with undisguised enthusiasm. “Lady Oakley is so wonderfully knowledgeable about everything. Not just deportment and social niceties, but art and music andhistory. And she never makes me feel foolish for asking questions.”

“That’s always been her gift,” Annabelle agreed, warmth suffusing her voice as she thought of her grandmother’s patient guidance throughout her own tumultuous youth. “She believes curious minds deserve nurturing, not constraint.”

“It’s been so lovely having a woman’s guidance,” Celia confessed, her voice softening with sudden vulnerability. “I mean, the housekeeper and my governesses have been kind, but it’s not the same as…”