Page 22 of Bound By the Duke

And something told her that if he spoke, she might tremble even more.

The duke didn’t speak right away. He simply watched. Maybe he decided to keep silent?

But just as relief washed over her, he decided to speak, his voice cutting through the hum of conversation like a blade. “You don’t like it.”

The room went still, and all focus shifted from Aurelia to him.

Aurelia blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t like the color scheme,” the duke responded. His tone was still calm, almost indifferent, yet there was a certainty in it that could not be ignored. “You didn’t speak when it was mentioned earlier. And just now, you didn’t nod. You’re clasping your hands tightly, uncomfortably. You don’t like it.”

It wasn’t a question. Not one of his words was probing. Rather, they were like soap trying to wash off the carefully painted mask on her face.

Lady Scovell furrowed her brow, before turning to look at her daughter. “Is that true, Aurelia?”

Aurelia froze under the attention. All her life, she had tried to be the version of herself that her parents needed. She had wanted to be agreeable, polished, pleasant. Easy to love. Easy to ignore.

But somehow, in a room filled with her family, it was this stranger—this infuriating, impossibly perceptive man—who had seen the truth of her silence.

Her mouth opened, then closed once again.

“Actually,” she finally spoke, her voice quieter now. “I’ve always preferred pale blue. I find blush a bit too…”

“Powdery?” Nora supplied helpfully.

Without looking at her sister, Aurelia gave a breathy laugh, an almost nervous one. “Yes. That.”

Another moment of silence followed. Then, her mother let out a faint sigh.

“Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the excitement,” Aurelia murmured, heaving a sigh.

“Nonsense,” Lady Scovell said, waving a hand. “A wedding should reflect the bride’s wishes. Pale blue, then. With ivory. That can be elegant, can’t it?”

“I suppose,” Celia muttered.

“Blush and ivory are out,” Louis declared with a groan. “She wants it to be blue.”

“It’s not your wedding,” Celia snapped, looking back at her brother.

“Exactly,” Louis shot back with a mock glare that earned him an elbow to the ribs.

Aurelia suppressed a chuckle, as she could see the glare on her elder sister’s face.

As the conversation resumed, her gaze drifted back to the duke. He had not moved from his spot. His hands were still clasped neatly behind his back as he stood like a man who took up space unapologetically.

Those eyes of his shifted to meet hers, catching her stare in a way that made heat rise to her cheeks.

He didn’t smile, but there was something in his expression. It wasn’t approval or attraction. It was something more dangerous. It was something that made her feel seen, truly seen, for the first time in a long while.

When the sky had turned orange, the duke announced his departure.

“Oh, must you go so soon?” Lady Scovell asked, blinking. “We hardly had a chance to show you the menu options.”

“I trust your judgment, Lady Scovell,” the duke replied with a quick, respectful bow.

Aurelia’s fingers twitched where she sat behind the dining table. A part of her wanted him to stay. Another part, a more sensible part, reminded her that wanting anything from this man was dangerous.