Page 19 of Bound By the Duke

Bless Louis.

He had given her a break from the different voices that had been relentlessly calling her name.

Her brother walked up to one of the windows and tucked his hands behind him. He seemed too grown-up for someone who had once fallen from a tree because he had insisted on pretending to be a bat.

Aurelia tilted her head slightly, watching him with a strange ache in her chest.

When had he grown into his shoulders like that?

“Don’t tell me you have lured me in here to ask me about lace swatches, too,” she said softly, in a bid to break the silence.

But Louis didn’t laugh. When he turned to face her, his expression was serious. “You don’t look happy, Aurelia.”

He spoke those words without sugarcoating them, and they fell so deeply, like pebbles falling into water.

Aurelia blinked at first, not knowing what to say. “Well, I am… tired.”

“Tired,” he echoed, crossing his arms. “Right.”

“I’ve been answering questions about floral arrangements and embroidery patterns for three hours, Louis. Forgive me if I’m not glowing.”

“You’renotglowing,” he said bluntly, making it clear that he was in no mood for sarcasm. “You’re… dim. As if someone’s snuffed out the light in you.”

She laughed, a soft little huff meant to mask the way her throat tightened. “How poetic.”

He didn’t budge. “Don’t deflect.”

With a deep sigh, Aurelia moved slowly across the room, letting her fingers trail along the edge of a table that was piled with books.

“I’m getting married to a duke,” she said after a while, her gaze glued to the books. “Our family name will be linked to one of the most powerful titles in the realm. There’s nothing to be sad about.”

Louis frowned. “That isn’t what I asked.”

“Then ask it plainly,” she muttered, still not meeting his eyes. “Subterfuge doesn’t become you.”

Something told her that she might become easier to read if he did.

“Do youwantto marry him?”

She froze for a moment. Her fingers tightened around the polished edge of the table. She kept her gaze fixed on the map of the Scottish Highlands pinned on the wall. It was easier than looking at him.

“I have to,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what matters.”

“No, it isn’t.”

She turned sharply to face him. “You don’t understand?—”

“I understand perfectly,” he cut in, stepping closer, reminding her how tall he had grown.

It felt like getting scolded by someone who used to be a toddler.

“I understand what it’s like to feel like you’re carrying our burdens on your shoulders. I see how you let Mother and Father speak over you. How you nod and agree and never say when you hate something. I see you, Aurelia.”

The truth of it pierced through her skin like an arrow. It was so painful that she bit the inside of her cheekhard.

“You are imagining things,” she sighed, looking away once again, trying her best to fix her mask back in place. “It’s just… a lot, that’s all. I want this marriage. It’s the right thing. It’s my duty.”

Her brother gave her a long look. Then, quietly, he said, “Duty and desire aren’t the same.”