Page 65 of Duke of Emeralds
Hester laughed. “And Cook—she acted so startled when I came into the kitchen this morning, as if she had forgotten I even lived here.” Hester shook her head, eyes wide. “You orchestrated this entire charade.”
He allowed himself a little pride. “Aye. And not a word escaped. You’d think I threatened them with the lash.”
She laughed then caught herself, the sound tapering to something almost shy.
Her gaze swept the room again. “The wallpaper is the blue I picked out.”
He nodded. “You said it was dignified.”
She smiled, a small, genuine thing that brightened her entire face. “You were very determined to keep me in the dark, weren’t you?”
“I was determined to make it a proper surprise,” he replied. “I’m told that’s what husbands do on occasion.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into the back of it, unable to resist.
She blushed. He could see the color climb her neck, and he wanted, very much, to see what else he could do to bring it out.
Before he could try, she spotted the covered canvas on the easel. “What is that?” she asked, suspicion returning to her tone. “There’s more?”
He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “I’m a man of many talents. Would you like to see?” She nodded, all composure, but her eyes shone.
He reached over and pulled off the muslin, revealing the finished portrait. He heard the breath leave her, and in that instant, he knew he had done well.
She said nothing for a long moment then, “I never sit so still.”
He grinned. “I drew you as I see you. That’s a privilege, you know. Most people only see what you want them to.”
Her gaze lingered on the drawing, and when she looked back at him, something in her had softened. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You did not have to do all of this.”
He shook his head. “I did. For the blankets. For the orphanage. For Bella. And for making this place your own.” He found his voice tightening in a way he disliked, so he tried to make it a joke. “And for choosing the best wallpaper in England.”
She laughed, and the sound did not falter this time.
He stepped closer, and the space between them narrowed. “You’re remarkable,” he said more gruffly than intended. “You deserve this. You deserve more.”
She stared up at him, and for a moment. he thought she might close the gap herself. She looked at his mouth then at his eyes. He leaned in, just enough to be sure she could refuse him if she wished. When her lashes fluttered in invitation, his arm moved around her waist.
But before anything could happen, a small, piping voice intruded, “Would you like biscuits, Your Graces?”
Thomas jerked back, startled, and found Bella at the door, holding a china plate stacked high with chocolate biscuits. She looked proud and a bit hopeful.
He blinked then laughed outright, the tension in the room dissolving in a single breath. “That’s very thoughtful, Bella,” he said, catching Hester’s amused glance. “Are they for us?”
“For everyone,” Bella said, crossing the room with her careful, quick steps. “Cook made them for me, but I am to share.”
Hester wasted no time in plucking a biscuit from the plate. She took a bite and sighed, eyes closing. “They are heavenly. Did you like the first batch, Bella?”
Bella nodded with gravity. “I want them every day.”
Thomas looked at the plate then at Hester, whose lips were glossed with a smudge of chocolate. “Every day?” he repeated. “Are you sure you’re not just hiding behind the child to indulge your own cravings, Duchess?”
She shrugged, feigning innocence. “You’ll never prove it.”
Thomas reached for a biscuit and found Bella had already offered him one, her face alight with pride. Hester turned to Bella, her tone warm. “Are you going to take the rest to your governess?”
Bella nodded then, as if remembering her manners, curtsied. “May I go, Your Grace?”
Thomas ruffled her hair, unable to help himself. “Ye may.”
When Bella had left, carrying the plate as if it held the crown jewels, Hester looked at him and smiled. “She really does seem to like Miss Wilmot.”
