Page 91 of Bound By the Duke

“Do you think he will like it?” Aurelia asked when they finished their little inspection.

“His Grace?” Linda returned, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Aurelia nodded. Her lips curled into a smile that was both nervous and wistful. “I thought of him when I asked Cook to prepare the food. He prefers vegetables—lighter fare. I even had them make the tart without the lard. I do not want him to feel… apart.”

Linda’s brows rose slightly. Silence, heavy and tender, fell over them, before she observed softly, “You love him, Your Grace.”

Aurelia nodded without hesitation. “Is it so obvious?”

Linda’s answering smile was warm but subtle. “It is obvious only to those who care enough to see. The way you say his name, the way you talk about what he likes, the way your eyes search for him even when you pretend they do not… Yes, it is obvious to me.”

With a shaky exhale, Aurelia’s brown gaze dropped to the rose in her hand. “I do.” Her fingers trembled around the flower. “I love him. Very much.”

Linda’s expression softened, though she wisely said nothing more. Meanwhile, Aurelia pressed the rose against her lips to hide a tremulous smile.

The garden was ready, but she was not.

The garden had been transformed into a little paradise by the afternoon. A blanket was spread across the soft grass, covered with baskets packed with warm bread and cakes, and bowls of fruit glistened in the daylight.

Aurelia had returned after changing into a lovely gown. Her steps slowed when she spotted a familiar little figure moving across the lawn.

“Mother,” Lottie’s bright voice called. She clutched a sketchbook and pencils as she ran forward.

Aurelia dropped to her knees in time to catch the girl, laughter spilling past her lips. “Oh my darling, you came early,” she murmured, brushing back Lottie’s hair.

“Because I couldn’t wait,” the girl answered in a timid rush. “I couldn’t wait to spend time with both you and Papa. But…” She hesitated, and her eyes dimmed a little. “What if he doesn’t come?”

Aurelia smiled softly, even though her heart clenched. She hooked a finger beneath the girl’s chin and tilted her face up.

“He will come,” she promised gently. “You’ll see. Today will be different.” To distract the girl, she clapped her hands lightly. “Now, let’s set up everything, shall we? Will you help me with the teacups?”

At once, Lottie brightened. Together, they began to arrange the spread that had been packed. Lottie carefully set down cups and saucers, while Aurelia lifted a tray of sugared cakes.

But before Aurelia could straighten, two familiar, strong hands reached over her shoulders and took the tray with effortless ease, stealing her breath.

She paused before turning around slowly.

There he was. Percival. Sunlight crowned him, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. But it wasn’t his height or hiselegance that struck her the most. It was how utterly… undone he looked.

His dark hair was disheveled, some strands falling boyishly across his brow. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his coat was nowhere in sight.

He looked less like the formidable Duke of Whitmore and more like a farmer in the country. A dangerously handsome farmer in whom she could lose herself.

“I hope I’m not late,” his deep voice came casually, as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from her lungs.

Aurelia stared at him, tongue-tied, her gaze drinking in his face. His jaw. His lips. The faint crease between his brows that always made him look so serious, even when he wasn’t.

He was so terribly handsome that it was difficult for her to remember she was supposed to be answering him.

Before she could form a reply, Lottie’s shy voice rang out. “You are not late, Papa.”

Percival turned to her, then slowly held out his arms. Lottie blinked at him, clearly stunned.

Is he asking for a hug?

A man who had always seemed so distant, so unreachable, was asking for his daughter’s embrace.

Aurelia watched the scene in mild shock.