Page 72 of Bound By the Duke
“She is not merely beautiful,” he declared boldly, silencing the space around them. “She is the finest part of all my ventures.”
Her breath caught. Her heart fluttered in her chest. He had spoken it without flourish, without a smile, without any of the inane flatteries other gentlemen might have used. And yet it was the most devastatingly intimate thing she had ever heard.
He could unravel her with a single word from that impossible mouth of his. That delicious, suffocating mouth.
Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Eventually, she decided to play along.
“Careful, husband.” She managed a smile, standing elegantly and gracefully like the duchess she was. “If you flatter me so openly, people will think you are sentimental.”
Something flickered across his stern face, but he turned back to the gentlemen nonetheless. “Sentimental or not, when it comes to estate matters, I defer to her more than she knows,” he stated calmly.
Twice in a row, his smooth words made her freeze for a heartbeat. Percival had deliberately included her in a conversation about business. Other women were not usually this lucky.
“Indeed?” Lord Bellflower’s brows rose with intrigue.
“Perhaps you support His Grace’s argument that the markets in the east will remain unstable. What say you, Your Grace?” Lord Yornmouth inquired.
Aurelia was too shocked to speak for a moment. But when she realized that she felt protected with Percival standing beside her, her confidence returned.
“I…” she began with a polite smile, the kind her mother had taught her to wear at balls. “I believe that unpredictability may be an opportunity. Those who prepare for fluctuations will be better placed than those who expect stability. Stability makes one careless, I think.”
A hush followed, before the gentlemen nodded slowly, their lips curling into sharp smiles.
“Sharp,” Lord Yornmouth murmured, clearly impressed.
Aurelia was proud of herself. But she knew whose reaction she cared about the most. She dared a glance at her husband, only to find him already looking at her.
Though she couldn’t read his expression, she still saw the faint curl at the corner of his mouth. A hint of pride, and probably something more.
It made warmth spread through her chest. She was glad that he had given her the opportunity. Glad that he had listened when she had declared that she was able to speak for herself, that she wanted to be seen. Because that was what she had always wanted—to belong.
Also, she was glad she was crossing another item off her list:Get along with high society.
For the remainder of the exchange, she answered when addressed, smiled with quiet composure, and listened as though she belonged.
And though Percival did not look at her again, she felt his gaze, heavy and lingering.
The evening progressed. When the gentlemen left, she and Percival were left alone once again.
Aurelia’s eyes strayed to the couples on the dance floor. The scene dredged up a memory of standing at balls with her sisters,whispering about who might ask them and who they might refuse.
Back then, she had thought it all so simple. A girl, a gown, a hopeful heart. Now, she stood here as a duchess. Wife of the most unreadable man in the room.
Her hand tightened on his arm as another dance was about to begin. Her breathing grew shallow.
Would he ask her to dance? She doubted he would be interested. Percival had always seemed above such things. Above frivolous rituals, above pleasure for the sake of it.
Her throat went dry.
Even if he did ask, she doubted she would survive it. Dancing with him meant having his hands on her body and those dangerous blue eyes of his boring into hers. She could already hardly breathe when he stood beside her.
Yet, she couldn’t push away the daydream. She couldn’t help but think it would be magical.
When her eyes rose to see what caught his attention, she froze. His gaze was already fixed on her, as if he could hear her thoughts.
His lips parted, and she wondered what words would come out. He wanted them to leave? Perhaps the place was too noisy for him? Did she irritate him so?—
“Dance with me, Duchess,” he requested with an extended gloved hand.
