Page 68 of My Blind Duke
But the unexpected sweetness of his words, the genuine warmth that seemed to emanate from him held her captive, suspended in a fragile moment of connection. She could not bear to shatter this delicate balance with the harsh reality of her impending farewell.
“You are most welcome, Your Grace,” she managed to say, her voice a little breathless, betraying the inner turmoil she was desperately trying to conceal.
She needed to leave this room, his presence before her carefully guarded composure completely crumbled.
“If you will excuse me,” she said, forcing a polite and somewhat shaky curtsy, her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the carpet to avoid the pull of his eyes. “I have… some business, of a rather… time-sensitive nature, to see to.”
William nodded slowly, a thoughtful and perhaps even slightly troubled expression clouding his handsome features. “Of course. Please do not let me detain you from your important tasks.”
Prudence turned and all but fled from the study, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, the lingering warmth of William’s earnest gaze burned into her mind. She had accepted his heartfelt gratitude, but in doing so, she had only intensified the bittersweet ache of her impending departure.
The fresh start she so desperately craved felt further away than ever, the path ahead shrouded by the undeniable and increasingly powerful pull of the man she was trying so desperately to leave behind. The silence of her own chambers offered little comfort, amplifying the echoes of his kind words and the undeniable truth of her own conflicted heart.
Because it was rather unfortunate that she had grown to care for the duke so deeply, enough for her heart of all things to want him. And that was only going to be a problem in the future.
Chapter 22
“Jefferson,” William began, his voice calm, though a familiar unease always settled upon him when discussing the practicalities of running Pemberly without his full sight. “With winter approaching, what preparations are being made? Are we sufficiently stocked with fuel and provisions?”
He heard the familiar rustle of Jefferson’s starched collar as the butler straightened his posture. “Indeed, Your Grace. We have already begun the process of arranging a substantial supply of coal and firewood. The larders are filled with salted meats, root vegetables, and flour. We anticipate no shortages this year.”
“Excellent,” William murmured, a small measure of satisfaction settling within him.
He had come to rely heavily on Jefferson’s meticulous management of the estate, a trust that had been earned after noticing the butler’s commitment to his duty. It filled Williamwith no small relief that he could depend on not just Robert, his steward, but also Jefferson to keep things running smoothly.
“Ensure that the tenants are also seen to. Those who require assistance with repairs to their cottages or additional supplies should be noted.”
“Of course, Your Grace. That is already being seen too…” There was a slight pause, a subtle shift in Jefferson’s usual measured tone that William instinctively picked up on. “Furthermore, Your Grace, with one less chamber requiring consistent heating throughout the winter months, a slight adjustment to the heating budget can be made, freeing up resources for other necessary expenditures.”
William frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “One less chamber? Whose rooms will not require heating, Jefferson?”
He had not been made aware of any departures amongst the staff, and certainly not any of the inhabitants of the main house.
The silence that followed stretched for a fraction too long, a beat of hesitation that sent a prickle of unease down William’s spine. Then, Jefferson spoke, his voice carefully neutral, yet the words themselves struck William with the force of a physical blow.
“Her Grace… Preparations are underway for her to depart Pemberly estate.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. William’s breath hitched in his throat, a cold wave of disbelief washing over him, quickly followed by a surge of intense anger and a profound, disorienting confusion.
“Depart? What in God’s name are you talking about, Jefferson? Where would she be going?” His voice, though kept low, vibrated with an intensity that betrayed his outward attempt at composure.
“I… I was made to understand that arrangements were being made for her to leave, Your Grace,” Jefferson replied, his tone becoming slightly more hesitant as if treading on precarious ground. “I was informed that she intends to establish a residence elsewhere.”
He offered no further details, and William could sense the butler’s own discomfort with this unexpected turn of events.
“Why am the last one to hear of this? Did my steward know as well?”
Jefferson inhaled sharply. “I do not believe so, Your Grace. By my understanding, Her Grace only told a select few who were to assist her in preparation for the departure. I doubt Robert would have been included in that selection as well.”
Livid, his mind a maelstrom of unanswered questions and a rising tide of possessive anger, William pushed himself to his feet, the abrupt movement scraping his chair against thepolished floor. “Summon the duchess to my study. Immediately, Jefferson.”
His voice left no room for argument and seconds later, he heard the butler’s footfalls leading away from him and out of his study.
Moments later, Prudence stood before him, her blurry lax form bearing a mixture of polite calmness and a subtle wariness. He could sense her presence, the faint floral scent that always clung to her, the quiet stillness that often preceded her sharp wit.
“You wished to see me, Your Grace?” Prudence asked, her voice even, betraying none of the turmoil he now felt raging within him.
William had given some deep thought to what he wished to say. He had so many questions – most of them turning out to be queries of whether or not the butler had spoken the truth. But now that she was here, he could not seem to put forth any of the immense turmoil soiling his insides.
