Page 124 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"Solid plan. Excellent strategy." He paused at his door. "Ophelia?"
"Yes?"
"We're going to be alright, aren't we? Despite everything?"
"We're going to be better than alright."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
He smiled, that genuine smile she was already addicted to. "Then I can handle the embarrassment."
They went into their separate rooms, but for the first time since their marriage, the connecting door between them didn't feel like a barrier. It felt like possibility.
Ophelia changed for bed in a daze, her lips still tingling from his kisses, her mind replaying every rambling confession he'd made. Alexander, her cold, controlled husband, had spent the evening telling her she was beautiful and annoying and perfect. He'd said he was falling in love with her.
Through the connecting door, she could hear him moving around, probably struggling with his boots given his inebriation. The thought made her smile. The perfectly proper Duke of Montclaire, drunk and stumbling and admitting to feelings.
A soft thud and muffled curse confirmed her boot theory.
"Are you alright?" she called through the door.
"The boots are winning," came the reply. "Boots should not be this complicated."
"Do you need help?"
A pause. "That would be highly improper."
"Since when has this evening been proper?"
Another pause, longer. Then: "Good point."
She opened the connecting door to find him sitting on the floor, one boot off, the other stubbornly refusing to cooperate. His hair was completely disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned, and he looked so unlike the Duke of Montclaire that she had to laugh.
"Don't laugh at my predicament. It's very serious."
"Very serious," she agreed, kneeling to help with the recalcitrant boot. "Hold still."
"I'm holding. Everything's spinning a bit, but I'm holding."
She managed to work the boot off, and he sighed in relief. "My hero."
"Heroine."
"That too." He looked up at her from his position on the floor. "You're very kind to help me."
"We're married. Helping is part of it."
"Is it? I should read the contract again. I don't remember that clause."
"It's in the fine print."
"Ah. I always skip the fine print." He managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly. "You should go back to your room before I say more things I shouldn't."
"What else could you possibly say? You've already confessed to falling in love with me."
"I could tell you about the inappropriate dreams. Or how I've memorized the way you take your tea. Or that I actually like your snorting laugh. Or..."
