Page 42 of Bound By the Duke

It was not polite. It was unguarded and alive, echoing through the quiet estate, sounding so foreign that it almost seemed forbidden.

And undeniablyhers.

The sound made his brows draw together. Laughter had no place here, especially the kind that sounded so unguarded as it pierced the quietness of the estate.

Soon, he stood up, irritation quickening his movements. But something else, something hotter, drove him. He crossed to the window, and then he saw them.

Aurelia and Lottie.

They were in the garden, standing before a wooden easel. Lottie was holding a paintbrush with a seriousness that made her tiny hands clumsy, and Aurelia was laughing again.

Her head was tipped back, her loose hair catching the light like honey. The soft curve of her neck, the way she leaned toward his daughter…

God help him, it undid him. Even from a distance, he marveled at her beauty.

She was undeniably alive in a way that made the air cling to her like a lover. When she bent to guide Lottie’s hand, her dress fluttered at the mercy of the breeze, brushing against her thighs and tugging at her waist.

His throat went dry. The furrow between his brows softened before he realized it.

Lottie was grinning with delight. It had been years since he had seen that expression on her face, since he had heard her laugh so freely.

And it was Aurelia who had coaxed it from her. That same laugh that had stirred something primitive inside him moments ago. Now, it felt like healing as it drew his daughter out of her shell.

That realization made the ache in his chest unbearable.

However, the purrs of Sir Whiskerton snapped him out of it. He glanced down to see the cat rubbing against his leg.

Percival scowled, though there was no heat in his gaze. “You approve, don’t you?” he muttered.

The cat purred louder and headbutted him for some affection.

Percival rolled his eyes. “Don’t you even think about it, rat,” he growled.

But then the cat flickered his tail in a way that even Percival could not deny was adorable.

He cleared his throat and extended a hand. Reluctantly, he reached down and brushed the soft fur, and the cat arched into his touch as though it had claimed him.

“You are insufferable,” Percival huffed, though his fingers continued stroking the creature’s back. “I should throw you out of this room.”

The cat only blinked up at him, smug as a king.

Percival looked back out the window. His jaw tightened again, though for a different reason this time. Lottie’s white dress was now smudged with paint and dirt from their play.

“She’ll catch a chill,” he muttered.

However, the cat’s steady purring suggested otherwise.

Still, the sight of Aurelia and Lottie together unsettled him in a way he could not name. He disapproved of the mess, of course, and the lack of order. But beneath that…

Beneath that was a longing to be the one who made them laugh. To feel some warmth without pretense.To be let in.

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling that ache again.

When he opened them, Aurelia had placed a hand on Lottie’s shoulder and whispered something to her. The girl nodded, and together they began gathering their things and headed back to the manor.

Percival stepped back from the window immediately. “Best they come inside.” His voice was a low, clipped murmur.

But his gaze lingered on the spot where they had been, and no matter how he had tried, the sinful sound of her laughter refused to leave his ears.