Page 23 of Bound By the Duke

Still, her feet moved before her mind did. “I’ll see the duke out.”

He turned toward her, his brows rising slightly, but he offered no protest.

They walked together down the hallway, their shoes clicking on the floor. The manor was quieter here. It was just the two of them, and the air felt oddly heavy between them.

Halfway to the front doors, Aurelia glanced sideways at him. There was something she wanted to ask, something she had been curious about.

“Forgive me, Your Grace… but I don’t believe I ever caught your name.”

He looked at her without any trace of emotion before he stated simply, “Percival.” Then, he looked ahead once again. “My name is Percival.”

She repeated it silently to herself.

Percival.It was such a unique name that suited the sharp edges beneath his elegance.

“Aurelia,” she offered quietly.

He gave the smallest of nods. “I know.”

They said nothing more after that, but somehow the silence felt warmer.

As soon as they reached the grand front doors, Aurelia paused before looking up at him with a smile, the polite smile she had been trained to wear.

“Although I am quite surprised, thank you for visiting, Your Grace.”

Percival tilted his head. His hand reached for the brass latch, as if something spoke to him, but he didn’t open the door. Rather, he turned his head toward her.

“You should not hesitate to say what you want,” he remarked.

She blinked up at him, caught off guard. “I… beg your pardon?”

He turned to her fully now, his eyes locked on hers. “When they were speaking about the flowers. And the gown. And everythingelse. You had opinions, but you didn’t voice them even when you were asked.”

Her chest rose slowly. “I didn’t want to?—”

“Disappoint them. I understand.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “But it’syourwedding.”

She looked away, but then she was forced to look back at him when he took a step closer.

“Next time, be honest,” he said. “With them. And with yourself.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Howdarehe speak to her like that? As if he knew her, as if he could peel back the layers she had carefully covered herself with for years?

“You presume a great deal, Your Grace,” she finally spoke, but her voice trembled slightly. “You hardly know me.”

He didn’t blink. “Don’t I?”

She met his gaze again, only to find it darker than earlier. More intense. And somehow, the space between them shrank with a certain heat that she could almost feel through her dress.

“You’ve spent the entire afternoon nodding at things you disliked, offering smiles that didn’t reach your eyes, and pretending not to mind decisions being made for you,” hecontinued. “You press your fingers together when you’re nervous. You stare at the floor when you’re disappointed. And you only take a deep breath when no one is looking.”

Every word hit her so hard that she reached for the doorframe.

His voice lowered. “You think I don’t know you? I’ve met a hundred women like you in ballrooms and gardens and drawing rooms across the country.” He paused, just briefly enough to deepen eye contact. “But none of them looked at me the way you do. As if they want to hate me, but can’t quite manage it.”

Once again, he proved that he could see right through her.

With a blush creeping up her neck, she whispered, “You’re incredibly arrogant.”