Page 33 of Bound By the Duke
Without waiting to see if she would, he turned around and walked away.
Aurelia stood there for a moment, just watching as he moved, as he walked with that same practiced control and measured silence.
Eventually, she hiked up her skirts and hurried to catch up with him.
They walked side by side, but not too close, keeping a polite distance between them. She glanced at him once out of thecorner of her eye, catching the line of his jaw and the way his lips pressed into something just shy of displeasure.
Or was it restraint?
The hallway was long; it seemed they were never going to stop walking. More paintings lined the walls, glinting in the candlelight.
Aurelia’s brown eyes drifted over them absently, until one in particular pulled her to a stop.
It was a portrait of a girl. A young one. She was seated by a lake, with her hands folded in her lap, and staring ahead with solemn eyes.
There was sadness in her gaze, the kind of sadness that didn’t come from peace but from keeping too much bottled up.
Aurelia spoke before she could stop herself. “This one… It’s beautiful.”
No answer came, and though it wasn’t like she needed one, she turned slightly toward Percival.
When her eyes found him again, he wasn’t looking at the painting. He was looking ather. Those damn blue eyes of his were so piercing that her chest tightened.
But he said nothing. He simply turned back and continued walking, as if she had never spoken.
She drew a deep breath, took one last look at the portrait, and resumed walking.
As they continued down the hallway, she realized that was the pattern with Percival. He offered no more than what was required. Not in movement. Not in words. Not even in breath.
However, his gaze always spoke of something more.
Eventually, they stopped before a door. It was taller than the others, old and dark. Percival didn’t waste time pushing it open with one hand, the wood groaning softly.
“This is your chamber now.” He stepped aside.
She glanced at him, then stepped into the room. And froze.
The room before her was lit by a single fire crackling low in the grate. A large bed occupied the far end, while a simple rug covered the floor, and gray curtains framed the window.
Everything was plain in a pleasant way, but it was not warm. It wasn’t warm like a room that had once been loved. No, this place felt untouched, unlived-in. And just like every other part of the estate, it was so quiet.
Aurelia took a deep breath and looked at him. “This… this room is not adjacent to your chambers,” she observed, searching his face.
For the first time since they left the hallway, something flickered across his face. It was very subtle and brief.
“No,” Percival replied, his eyes fixed on the rug. “It is not.”
“Strange,” Aurelia murmured, her voice lighter than she felt. “I thought a wife’s place was near her husband.”
A long silence met her words.
She held his gaze, not so certain what to do with the intensity in his blue eyes. But one thing was certain. She wasn’t going to apologize for her observation. She wasn’t going to smile politely and call it a slip of the tongue.
She had demanded her right, and he could choose whether to answer it or not.
Just as she convinced herself that all he would offer was his usual silence, he took a few steps forward.
It wasn’t rushed. Nothing about Percival ever was. But the space between them had vanished so quickly, devoured by the clicking of his boots on the plush rug.
