Page 58 of Duke of Gold
Morgan leaned casually against the doorway, crossing his arms as he watched. Her cheeks were flushed, her expression intent, and the light in her eyes was unmistakable. She was wholly in her element, commanding attention without demanding it, her warmth drawing the staff into her orbit with ease.
He couldn’t help but compare her vitality to the stifling air that had so long permeated the castle. The walls that had once seemed heavy and oppressive now seemed lighter, as though the house itself had been holding its breath and was finally allowed to exhale.And all because of her,he thought, the realization settling in his chest like a quiet ache.
Peggy turned suddenly, catching sight of him in the doorway. Her eyes brightened. “Morgan!” she called. “What are you doing skulking about?”
“I don’t skulk,” he said dryly, stepping into the room.
“Then what do you call standing in the shadows, watching me?” she teased, arching a brow.
“Observing,” he replied, his tone light. “I was curious about the commotion.”
Peggy laughed, the sound ringing pleasantly through the room. “Well, since you’re here, perhaps you can give me your opinion.” She gestured toward the drapes being held up by a maid. “What do you think? The blue or the gold?”
Morgan glanced at the options, his gaze lingering on Peggy longer than the fabric. “The gold,” he said. “It complements the molding.”
Peggy tilted her head, considering. “You’re right,” she said with a smile, turning to the maid. “We’ll use the gold then.”
As the staff returned to their work, Peggy stepped closer to him, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Do you think we should host a ball here one day?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes hopeful.
Morgan hesitated, his defenses rising instinctively. “I’ll think about it,” he said with mock deliberation.
Her lips curved into a playful pout. “You’ll think about it? That’s your answer?”
“Do you expect me to make such monumental decisions on the spot?” he countered, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
Peggy laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re relentless,” he returned, his tone softening despite himself.
They bantered a bit longer, her teasing drawing smiles he hadn’t realized he was capable of. But as her attention returned to the ballroom and the staff, Morgan felt a pang of something uncomfortably close to regret as he stepped away.
Back in his study, Morgan sank into his chair, the memory of her laughter still lingering in his mind. He ran a hand over his face, frustrated by the way her presence clung to him even now. She was a force of nature, a warmth he couldn’t help but be drawn to—and that terrified him.
A knock at the door broke his reverie. “Enter,” he called, sitting up straighter.
Mrs. Hallewell stepped inside, her hands folded neatly before her. “Your Grace,” she began, her tone brisk. “I wanted to discuss the arrangements for the upcoming repairs in the east wing.”
Morgan nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
She spoke of the logistics, but as their discussion neared its end, she hesitated. “There is one more thing, Your Grace,” she said carefully.
He looked up, his brow lifting in question.
“The Duchess,” Mrs. Hallewell said, her voice softening. “Her Grace has been tireless in her efforts to restore this house. She works endlessly, always with a kind word for the staff. But...”
“But?” Morgan prompted, his tone sharper than he intended.
“She is lonely, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hallewell said plainly, meeting his gaze. “She puts on a brave face, but anyone who watches closely can see it. She needs support—your support.”
Morgan’s jaw tightened. “She seems to be managing well enough.”
“She is,” Mrs. Hallewell acknowledged, her tone unwavering. “But that does not mean she does not feel the weight of it all. A kind word from you could make all the difference.”
Morgan leaned back in his chair, his expression carefully neutral. “I will take it under advisement.”
Mrs. Hallewell inclined her head, recognizing the dismissal, and took her leave.
As the door closed behind her, Morgan exhaled slowly, her words replaying in his mind.She is lonely.The thought needled at him, pricking his conscience in a way he couldn’t ignore. Yet the idea of reaching out, of opening himself up even a fraction, filled him with equal parts dread and longing.
