Page 25 of Duke of Emeralds
“May I remind you that wandering off mid-meal could lead to indigestion?” Mrs. Smith continued, her tone bordering on reproachful.
Feeling like a wayward child under scrutiny, Hester nodded, chastened. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am quite capable of managing my own meals.”
Just then, Thomas appeared, his brow furrowed. “I believe the Duchess is quite aware of what is beneficial for her, Mrs. Smith.”
Hester’s heart raced at his defense though a flicker of doubt crept in. Had he overheard their exchange?
“Oh, but there was nothing rude in her words. Mrs. Smith only meant well, and I am grateful for her attentiveness,” Hester interjected, glancing at the housekeeper, whose expression remained as inscrutable as ever.
“Your Graces, I beg your pardons,” Mrs. Smith murmured, her voice devoid of warmth as she curtsied and excused herself.
As Hester watched the housekeeper’s retreating figure, she contemplated her next move, only to feel Thomas’s strong fingers encircle her wrist, grounding her in the moment.
“Come,” Thomas urged, guiding her into the drawing room. Hester felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks at his gentle yet firm touch.
“You did not knock when you entered earlier,” he remarked, his brow arching slightly.
“Oh, I did, indeed. But you were so absorbed in your work that I daresay you didn’t hear me,” she replied then her eyes widened as she realized she had just revealed too much. “Wait… You saw me lingering by the door?” she asked, her voice rising in surprise.
“Aye, I did,” he admitted, a playful glint lighting his gaze. “And why did you not announce yourself?”
“Why should I have? I was rather enjoying the view,” she countered, crossing her arms as a teasing smile crept onto her lips.
“Ah, and what view might that be?” he asked, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Of your husband, perhaps?”
“How conceited of you to assume such a thing,” Hester snorted though her cheeks flushed deeper at the truth of it. She had found him utterly captivating, lost in the strokes of hischarcoal. His laughter echoed softly, a rich sound that sent a flutter through her. “You never mentioned your drawings,” she observed.
“And ruin the surprise of your discovery? That would be a crime against art,” he replied, his tone teasing.
“Humility seems to elude you entirely, Duke,” she chuckled, unable to suppress her amusement.
“I find it dreadfully dull,” he shrugged.
“Pray tell, what brings you wandering about during your meal?” he asked, suddenly serious. “You ought to eat uninterrupted.”
“Are you scolding me, Thomas?” she challenged, a playful lilt in her voice. “I thought you were just admonishing Mrs. Smith for doing the very same.”
“Ah, but I am not scolding the Duchess,” he replied, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I am scolding my wife. And I require my wife to eat,” he added, tucking a rebellious curl behind her ear, sending a delightful warmth coursing through her.
It struck her then—he genuinely seemed to care about her well-being, and for reasons she could not fathom, she wanted him to care.
“Well, I find dining alone intolerable.”
He coked an eyebrow. “I thought you could not tolerate my company at dinnertime.”
“That is beside the point,” Hester dismissed, unwilling to admit the confusing feelings within her. One instant she wanted his company, and the next, she was not sure if she wanted him near for how flustered he made her feel.
“Is it now?” he quirked an amused eyebrow.
“We are married, and thus it is only fitting that we share our meals together,” she insisted.
“Your rules, Duchess,” he smiled, and for a moment, he looked charming despite the scar and beard.
“Shall we?” he offered, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow as they made their way toward the door.
Hester was taken aback by how easily he acquiesced. Had he truly been avoiding her, or had she merely jumped to conclusions?
“Happy?” he broke the silence as they strolled back to the dining room.
