Page 65 of Duke of Gold
“Apologies,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Though I must say, your playing is far more effective than the clock at keeping the house awake.”
A soft laugh escaped her, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Perhaps I should apologize for disturbing the peace.”
“Not at all,” he said, stepping further into the room. “I rather enjoyed it.”
She turned back to the pianoforte, her fingers absently grazing the keys. “I didn’t realize anyone else was awake.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted, his gaze lingering on her. There was a sadness in her eyes, one she was clearly trying to hide, and it tugged at something deep within him. Without thinking, he extended his hand. “Come,” he said softly.
She hesitated briefly before placing her hand in his. He helped her to her feet, his grip firm yet gentle, and led her toward a nearby sofa by the tall window overlooking the gardens. They sat together, the moonlight casting silvery patterns across the room.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Morgan exhaled heavily, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “There’s something you should know,” he began, his voice low and strained.
Margaret turned to him, her gaze steady but questioning. “What is it?”
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with the words. “The library,” he said finally. “It wasn’t always meant to be hidden.”
She remained silent, allowing him the space to continue.
He leaned back, staring out the window. “It was my sister’s favorite place in the house. She practically lived in that room, surrounded by books. Our mother was often unwell, and ourfather... he was absent more often than not. It was just the two of us. She loved books; they were her escape. And that library became her haven.”
Margaret’s brow furrowed, her heart aching at the pain she heard in his voice.
“She was everything,” he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “And I failed her. I couldn’t protect her.”
He paused, swallowing hard as the memories surged forward. “We were attacked there. In that room. She didn’t make it out.”
Margaret’s breath caught, and her hand moved instinctively to cover his.
“I survived,” he continued, his voice hollow. “But I hated myself for it. I s till do. She deserved better. She deserved a longer life, filled with all the stories she loved so much. And I—I locked it all away. The room, the memories, the pain.”
Tears pricked Margaret’s eyes as she listened, her fingers tightening around his. “Morgan,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with emotion.
He turned to her, his expression raw, his defenses crumbling in the face of her compassion. “I thought if I locked it away, I could keep it from consuming me. But now…” He shook his head, unable to finish.
Margaret shifted closer, her other hand reaching up to touch his face, her palm warm against his cheek. “You cannot lock away pain,” she said gently. “It becomes a part of you, whether you acknowledge it or not. But you can choose to embrace it, to let it remind you of the love you shared, the memories you hold. Only then can you begin to heal.”
Her words pierced through him, resonating in a way he hadn’t expected. For the first time, he allowed himself to meet her gaze fully, to see the sincerity in her eyes.
She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him in a soft, comforting embrace. “You are not alone, Morgan,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”
He froze for a moment, her words sinking in. Then, slowly, he lifted his arms and held her, his grip tentative at first before tightening as he allowed himself to rest in her presence. For once, he let go of the fear, the pain, the walls he had built so carefully. And in that moment, he embraced her—his wife—without worrying about the consequences.
The silence between them was no longer heavy, but tender, filled with understanding.
CHAPTER 30
Peggy’s heart ached as she studied her husband’s face, etched with shadows of grief long borne in silence. His pain was palpable, pressing against her chest as if it were her own.
“I shall have the library closed,” she said resolutely, though her voice wavered under the strain of emotion. “I deeply regret ever opening it to begin with. Had I known…” She trailed off, her throat tightening. She reached for his hand, her grip gentle yet firm, as if to anchor him to the present and pull him from the depths of memory.
Morgan shook his head, a faint sigh escaping his lips. “You could not have known, Margaret. You bear no fault in this.”
Before she could form a reply, he surprised her, his voice softer, yet steady. “And there is no need to close the library. Not anymore.”
Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering in her eyes. “You wish it to remain open?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile, though it was tinged with sorrow. “Victoria would have wished for someone to cherish that room as she did. To sit among its treasures, to let it breathe with life once more. Such a thing is impossible if it remains locked away, a memorial to the past.”
