Page 27 of Bound By the Duke
“Yes, it is.” His voice was devoid of emotion.
The girl’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Is she nice?”
A pause.
He hesitated. “Yes.”
That wasn’t entirely true, not in the conventional sense.
Lady Aurelia wasn’tnice. She was… defiant. Clever. Too perceptive for her own good. She smelled like peaches. And worse, she had almost kissed him. Or rather,hehad almost kissed her.
But Lottie didn’t need to know any of that.
“Will I like her?”
“I hope so.”
She clasped her hands in front of her, as though bracing herself for something she couldn’t name yet. “Will she stay?”
Percival heaved a long sigh. From behind, Maxwell shifted his gaze toward the window, tactfully silent.
“Yes,” Percival responded after a long moment. “She will.”
The girl nodded slowly. “I think that would be nice.”
The small, brave smile that curved her mouth was mysterious to Percival, as he couldn’t quite decide if it was genuine or not.
Silence fell over them, but it was quickly broken as Maxwell clapped his hands and rose from his seat.
“Well, my work here is done. I’ve teased you, insulted you, and witnessed a historic father–daughter moment. I shall take my leave before I ruin it.” He moved to the door, making sure to ruffle the little girl’s hair as he passed. “Goodnight, darling. Save me a painting next time.”
Lottie nodded with another small smile.
Maxwell nodded curtly to Percival, who was standing still like a statue, before walking out.
When the door clicked shut behind him, the room felt emptier.
Percival looked down at the painting again. “I shall put it in my study,” he said. “Where I work, so I see it every day.”
Lottie looked up at him. She seemed startled by his words. She hadn’t expected that.
“Thank you, Papa,” she squeaked.
She proceeded to bob a little curtsy before turning to leave.
When she reached the door, her father called after her, “Lottie.”
Lottie paused and turned back.
“You did very well.”
Her blue eyes lit up at those words. Then, with a quick nod, she disappeared down the corridor.
When the door closed behind her, Percival looked at the painting in his hands again.
He didn’t move for a long time. Something stirred within him, something old, buried under a mixture of responsibility and grief.
But he shoved the thought away. Like he always did.
