Page 31 of The Duke's Unclaimed Bride
Of course, she was changing. It had been but a moment, but he was sure he had seen the delicate skin of her decolletage, although she had tightened the robe to hide it.
That didn’t alter the image that was now seared into his brain. The delicate fabric of her chemise clinging to the soft expanse of her shoulder. Her honey-blonde hair tumbling down her back.
This wasn’t part of their arrangement. He wasn’t supposed to want her like this. He wasn’t supposed to think about removing her chemise and discovering what lay beneath, or imagine her sighing his name as he?—
“Your Grace?” she said in surprise.
Of course, he didn’t often come to her chambers.
Laurence straightened immediately, adjusting his waistcoat and schooling his features into something akin to composure.
“There seems to have been an incident during Tilly’s lesson,” he started. “I walked past the parlor she and her governess were in and heard her lamenting about spilling ink on her dress.”
“I see. Is the governess handling it?”
“I believe so, but I thought you should know,” he said. “Abigail should be collecting a new dress for Tilly to wear to dinner.”
“Thank you for informing me.” Edith nodded. “I will go and see what has happened.”
“Indeed. And perhaps… Tilly should wear black to her lessons until her coordination improves?” he suggested.
Edith’s hand clenched around the doorframe, but then quickly loosened. “I will take that into consideration,” she offered as she walked past him, in the direction of the kitchens.
He frowned, not understanding her reaction.
In truth, he still didn’t understand a lot about Edith and Tilly. He had never seen Edith lose her temper with the girl, but sheseemed all too happy to direct it at him. Tilly also never seemed afraid of him or Edith, despite everything she had endured.
After a moment, he headed to his study to get back to work. If he were to fix the duchy, then he couldn’t become distracted by sentimentality.
He started working away, his quill scratching across paper. The minutes ticked by, but eventually, his stomach growled. Looking at his clock, he had been working for nearly an hour. Dinner was late.
He frowned and ventured downstairs. Familiar giggles met his ears as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and the smell of milk and lye soap drifted in the air. The dining room was empty.
Walking deeper in, he noticed that the kitchen door was open, and he could see a sink full of bubbles. Tilly was laughing, suds piled high on her hair, wearing a new dress.
At the sink, Edith had her hands in the soapy water, occasionally pulling them out to blow bubbles. The governess and the housekeeper stood to the side, muttering together about the stubborn stain. The cook and maids were preparing dinner, but kept stopping to watch or laugh at the scene.
Suddenly, the corridor felt… lonely.
He shook his head, pushing away the ridiculous notion.
His heart clenched as he approached the kitchen. He frowned, unable to place what he was feeling. Then, all at once, he understood. He didn’t want to be the one who broke the spell.
With growing horror, he also realized that he wanted to join them. To be part of a family. To make a mess, laugh, and blow soap bubbles while dinner grew cold.
Growing up, the castle had never felt this warm or kind. His father would have beaten any servant who dared delay a meal. It was unbecoming and frivolous.
And yet there was Edith, standing in the mess and the joy. Warmth seemed to come so easily to her. She could even make this cold, hollow castle a home for herself and Tilly.
For one dangerous moment, he readied himself to step inside and join in their fun. To have Edith pull him into their happy chaos and see Tilly smile at him.
But he couldn’t.
Men like him, with his family’s tainted blood, didn’t deserve such things. His family dealt in money and cruelty. If he stepped in, he would drain the moment of warmth and poison it. He always did.
The growling of his stomach reminded him of the purpose of his visit.
He walked toward the door and knocked on it. The servants all looked at him, color draining from their faces.
