Page 84 of Duke of Gold
“What is this ‘something’ keeping you in England, Aunt?” Margaret asked as Leonardo stretched and crawled onto her lap.
Petunia smiled enigmatically but remained silent.
Anna, unable to contain herself, interjected. “I suspect it is not something, but someone,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye.
Margaret gasped. “Anna! Do not jest—what are you implying?”
Anna grinned. “Only that there may be a certain Belgian nobleman who has taken an interest in our dear aunt.”
Margaret’s jaw dropped. “Aunt Petunia! Is this true?”
Petunia glanced down, her blush deepening. “He has… offered for me,” she admitted softly.
Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes wide. “And have you accepted?”
“I am yet to decide,” Petunia replied, her voice measured, though her cheeks betrayed her feelings.
Elizabeth’s lips curved into a warm smile. “Are you in love, Aunt?”
Petunia hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. When she raised her eyes again, they shone with a quiet certainty. The faintest nod gave her answer.
“Oh, Petunia!” Margaret exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. The others joined in, their laughter and encouragement filling the room.
“Find your happiness, Aunt,” Margaret said softly as they embraced. “You deserve it.”
And as Petunia smiled and blushed under their teasing and affection, Margaret marveled at the sight. The ever-composed and loquacious Petunia, rendered speechless by the prospect of love. It was a moment of pure joy and hope—a reminder that love, in all its forms, was always worth pursuing.
Morgan opened the library door, pausing on the threshold as the scene before him unfolded. The warm glow of the fire illuminated his wife, seated comfortably in her favorite chair, a blanket draped over her legs. She was reading, her head tilted slightly to the side, and her lips curved in the faintest smile as she snacked on a bowl of exotic nuts Alexander had sent.
His heart swelled at the sight, gratitude washing over him in waves. Margaret had brought light and life into the castle, into his very soul, and he marveled at how easily she had become his world. Every moment with her was a gift, one he would never take for granted.
“You traitor,” he said, his voice carrying a teasing edge as he stepped into the room.
Margaret glanced up, startled at first, before her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Whatever do you mean, Morgan?” she asked innocently.
He nodded toward the book in her hands, his brows lifting. “The book, Margaret. From the series we are reading together.”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened in mock guilt before her lips curved into a sheepish grin. “I simply could not wait. I was much too curious. The suspense was unbearable.”
“You left me to my ledgers only to abscond with our story,” he said with mock severity, shaking his head as he approached.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the chair beside hers.
“Why, of course, Your Grace,” she said with a soft laugh, setting the book down.
As he settled beside her, Margaret’s demeanor shifted, a flicker of excitement sparking in her eyes. “Before we resume, I have something to tell you,” she said, her voice bubbling with anticipation.
Morgan arched a brow, intrigued. “And what might that be, my darling?”
Margaret leaned forward, her smile deepening as her hand instinctively moved to rest on her stomach. “We have a little lord or lady on the way, Morgan,” she said, her words bursting forth like a melody.
He froze, his eyes widening as the meaning of her words sank in. “You’re pregnant?” he asked, his voice hushed, as though daring to hope. “Are you certain?”
“I am,” she said with a nod, her smile radiant. “Mrs. Hallewell and I went over the calculations again this morning.”
Morgan exhaled sharply, his emotions spilling forth in a wave of pure joy. “Oh, Margaret,” he murmured, leaning forward to take her in his arms. He pressed his lips to hers in a long, lingering kiss. “You have given me more than I deserve. I scarcely know how to begin to thank you.”
Margaret chuckled softly, her eyes shining as she quipped, “We have the rest of our lives for that, Morgan. Plenty of time for you to show me.”
“Oh, even eternity would feel inadequate,” he returned, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Margaret. More than anything.”
“And I love you too,” she said, her tone playful. “Though your taste in villains leaves much to be desired.”
Morgan laughed, leaning in to kiss her again, his affection spilling into every touch. He then shifted, kneeling before her to place a gentle kiss on her stomach. “And I love you, little one. I cannot wait to meet you,” he whispered, his voice reverent.
Margaret’s heart felt impossibly full as Morgan gathered her into his arms, cradling her close. She leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, as he opened the book she had so impatiently begun. His voice, rich and steady, filled the room as he read to her by the firelight.
This was their first winter together—a beginning, she thought with a contented smile. A perfect beginning to many more seasons to come.
