Page 11 of Bound By the Duke

Aurelia watched him nod once to her father. Then, he turned around, so suddenly that his blue gaze slammed into hers.

Aurelia’s breath caught like it had tripped over itself.

No.

The word replayed in her mind over and over again.

Something was utterly wrong.

Completely and utterly wrong.

She tightened her fingers around the railing, and her lips parted in a gasp.

It washim.

The man from the park.

The man she had insulted with great enthusiasm while chasing after her ungrateful cat. The man she had told off about his manners. The one who had called Sir Whiskerton arat.

No. No, no, no.

She had offended her future husband before she even knew his name.

He did not flinch at the sight of her. Didn’t flinch at the horror written all over her face. Instead, his gaze remained unreadable, cold.

Because of the lack of surprise on his face, she could not even tell if he recognized her, or if he simply was not in the habit of caring.

“You…” Aurelia wanted to breathe out, but he looked away so fast. She wished the floor would open up beneath her and swallow her whole.

“Ah, Aurelia!” her father called cheerfully, oblivious to her dilemma. “Come. We were just discussing the details of the arrangement.”

The arrangement. Not even the engagement.

Nonetheless, Aurelia took a deep breath and forced herself to walk forward with the grace of a woman heading to her fiancé, and certainly not one trying to hide her embarrassment.

She nodded politely at the duke. “Your Grace,” she greeted softly.

She just needed to pretend that nothing had ever happened, and perhaps she would forget it in time.

The duke did not bow, but gave a shallow nod in return. “My lady,” he returned, his voice low and smooth.

Her heart skipped a beat at his voice. It reminded her of how they had spoken back at Hyde Park. But before she could fall deeper into that thought, she heard the rustling of silk against the floorboards.

“Why don’t we adjourn to the dining room?” her mother’s bright voice rang out.

Aurelia turned to her mother, just as Lord Scovell nodded with an affirmative clap. And somehow, she could feel the duke’s intense gaze on her.

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair—long, awkward, and overly quiet. Since Celia’s marriage, they had not had anyone over for dinner.

When Lord Scovell had cleared his throat more than once, his wife had sent warning glances that could have cut glass. Between them sat Louis, who kicked Nora under the table until she rolled her eyes at him.

Meanwhile, Aurelia spent most of the dinner trying to figure out if she was allowed to speak. Or rather, what she was supposed to speak about.

At last, when the maids came to clear away the soup, she chanced a smile in the duke’s direction. “I trust your journey was pleasant, Your Grace?”

He looked at her with those impossibly blue eyes. Calm. Icy. “No one died, if that’s what you mean.”

Nora choked on her wine while Louis, who had a usually dry sense of wit, winced at that.