Page 40 of Bound By the Duke

Lottie shook her head. “He is kind… in his own way. But he is always busy. Always saying what I must learn, what I must remember. He does not… talk. Not really. Sometimes I feel like I am just another lesson.”

The words cut Aurelia more sharply than any blade. Especially the last part. Something about it made her think that there was a history she had yet to learn. A history that served as alessonto Percival.

She reached over, her fingers smoothing Lottie’s curls back from her face. “You are not a lesson, my love,” she murmured. “I’m sure in his eyes, you are a treasure.”

Her chest tightened as she said that, the words taking root within her.

She was certain of it. She had seen the way Percival looked at his daughter. It was obvious that he was just terrible at showing it. Perhaps she should help him with that. Help him mend the fragile thread between him and his heart.

Gazing back at the horizon, determination burned quietly inside her. It wouldn’t be only about winning her husband’s heart or producing heirs. She would also try her best to improve the relationship between him and Lottie.

She was definitely going to add that goal to her list.

CHAPTER 12

The carriage rolled to a stop before Whitmore Estate, its wheels quietly climbing over gravel. Almost immediately, the driver climbed down to open the door.

Percival hardly noticed him. He seemed lost in thought, pressed against the window as though the act of stepping out required armor.

When the driver cleared his throat, Percival started slightly before descending with practiced grace. With his rigid back and perfectly tucked cravat, he seemed like the unshaken, untouchable Duke of Whitmore.

But beneath his icy frown was a man dangerously aware of his own betrayal, and that troubled him. He had betrayed himself the previous night, betrayed his restraint, and cursed principles because ofher.

Aurelia.

The very sound of her name rose like a flame in his chest. He had spent the better part of the day in a boardroom with nobles, discussing tariffs and trade routes. But not a single word had registered.

Each time he had tried to focus, her image would slip through. The way her lips had parted against his, trembling but certain, the way she had melted into his arms with a slight shiver still haunted him even now.

Worse? He had kissed her. He hadkissedhis wife.

A groan escaped his lips as he remembered.

It should not have happened. He had vowed that their marriage would be practical, untouched by romance, yet he had broken that vow. She was simply supposed to be a stepmother to Lottie, nothing more. A caretaker who was supposed to provide warmth that his presence couldn’t offer. That was all.

But then he had betrayed his own vows the moment her laughter had undone something within him. The moment her sweet vanilla scent stirred his senses. Uttering those goddamn words,“Get some rest, wife,”was his last resort before he did something more regrettable.

Wife.

The word had tasted like sin and salvation all at once. That was exactly what Aurelia’s presence was turning into—a confusing reality. One that bothered him. One that had him lost in search of a solution before it became too late.

His throat tightened as he entered the main hall. The servants bowed quietly before they went about their business. Everything was in its place, except for his mind.

As soon as he strode into his chambers, he closed the door with a decisive thud, wishing to be left alone. He stepped in front of the mirror, loosening this cravat in such a way that one would think it was choking him.

His reflection irritated him because all he could see was a man who let himself be possessed by desires. Even now, the softness of his wife’s lips still haunted him.

What the hell was I thinking?

When he closed his eyes, it only got worse. Because there she was again, gasping as he claimed what he should have resisted.

God help him, he had devoured her mouth like a secret he was never meant to know.

It hadn’t been sweet. It had beenruinous. The worst part of it all was that he would do it again.

“Fool,” he muttered under his breath.

He turned away from the mirror. He couldn’t bear to see what was written on his own face: longing.