Page 14 of Duke of Emeralds (Dukes of Decadence #2)

I t was Hester’s third evening at Lushton Castle, and she settled once more into her solitary meal, the only company being the footmen who served her with much detachment.

With each bite, her thoughts churned. Thomas had seen her through the window yesterday, and he could have come to her, could have joined her for dinner, or at the very least, sent word to her. But no! He had all but avoided her since handing her over to an indifferent household.

She had just speared a piece of carrot with her fork when a sudden resolve surged through her, prompting her to rise from her chair, nearly toppling it.

“I shall not be treated as though I am unwelcome,” she declared to the empty room. “Where is the Duke?” she asked the butler in the foyer.

“His Grace is dining in the drawing room this evening, Your Grace,” he replied, his demeanor as stiff as the starched linen on the table.

In the drawing room ? Hester’s heart sank. Was her presence so unwanted that he preferred solitude over her company? With both disbelief and curiosity, she made her way to the blue drawing room but found it empty. Then she sought another one, and the closed door told her that he might be within.

Raising a hand, she knocked on the door. When no answer came, she opened it and stepped inside. Her eyes widened when she saw Thomas seated in front of an easel with charcoal in hand, sketching.

She hesitated at the door before giving the frame a tentative knock, yet he remained oblivious, lost in the strokes of his charcoal as he captured the rugged beauty of a mountain pass where tiny caravans meandered through the craggy terrain.

A sense of awe descended upon her, compelling her to linger, captivated by the talent she hadn’t known he possessed.

As she watched, her annoyance forgotten, she realized he was using charcoal of different shades, one so gray it was silver.

Suddenly, he paused, turning slightly as if sensing her presence. Panic surged through her, and she quickly pivoted, retreating back down the hallway. In her haste, she collided with Mrs. Smith, nearly losing her balance.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but your meal is growing cold,” the housekeeper said before she pressed her lips into a tight line, looking Hester over from the top of her head to the hem of her dress.

“I—I was merely returning,” Hester stammered, her cheeks flushing.

“May I remind you that wandering off mid-meal could lead to indigestion?” Mrs. Smith continued, her tone bordering on reproachful.

Feeling like a wayward child under scrutiny, Hester nodded, chastened. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am quite capable of managing my own meals.”

Just then, Thomas appeared, his brow furrowed. “I believe the Duchess is quite aware of what is beneficial for her, Mrs. Smith.”

Hester’s heart raced at his defense though a flicker of doubt crept in. Had he overheard their exchange?

“Oh, but there was nothing rude in her words. Mrs. Smith only meant well, and I am grateful for her attentiveness,” Hester interjected, glancing at the housekeeper, whose expression remained as inscrutable as ever.

“Your Graces, I beg your pardons,” Mrs. Smith murmured, her voice devoid of warmth as she curtsied and excused herself.

As Hester watched the housekeeper’s retreating figure, she contemplated her next move, only to feel Thomas’s strong fingers encircle her wrist, grounding her in the moment.

“Come,” Thomas urged, guiding her into the drawing room. Hester felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks at his gentle yet firm touch.

“You did not knock when you entered earlier,” he remarked, his brow arching slightly.

“Oh, I did, indeed. But you were so absorbed in your work that I daresay you didn’t hear me,” she replied then her eyes widened as she realized she had just revealed too much. “Wait… You saw me lingering by the door?” she asked, her voice rising in surprise.

“Aye, I did,” he admitted, a playful glint lighting his gaze. “And why did you not announce yourself?”

“Why should I have? I was rather enjoying the view,” she countered, crossing her arms as a teasing smile crept onto her lips.

“Ah, and what view might that be?” he asked, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Of your husband, perhaps?”

“How conceited of you to assume such a thing,” Hester snorted though her cheeks flushed deeper at the truth of it.

She had found him utterly captivating, lost in the strokes of his charcoal.

His laughter echoed softly, a rich sound that sent a flutter through her.

“You never mentioned your drawings,” she observed.

“And ruin the surprise of your discovery? That would be a crime against art,” he replied, his tone teasing.

“Humility seems to elude you entirely, Duke,” she chuckled, unable to suppress her amusement.

“I find it dreadfully dull,” he shrugged.

“Pray tell, what brings you wandering about during your meal?” he asked, suddenly serious. “You ought to eat uninterrupted.”

“Are you scolding me, Thomas?” she challenged, a playful lilt in her voice. “I thought you were just admonishing Mrs. Smith for doing the very same.”

“Ah, but I am not scolding the Duchess,” he replied, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I am scolding my wife. And I require my wife to eat,” he added, tucking a rebellious curl behind her ear, sending a delightful warmth coursing through her.

It struck her then—he genuinely seemed to care about her well-being, and for reasons she could not fathom, she wanted him to care.

“Well, I find dining alone intolerable.”

He coked an eyebrow. “I thought you could not tolerate my company at dinnertime.”

“That is beside the point,” Hester dismissed, unwilling to admit the confusing feelings within her. One instant she wanted his company, and the next, she was not sure if she wanted him near for how flustered he made her feel.

“Is it now?” he quirked an amused eyebrow.

“We are married, and thus it is only fitting that we share our meals together,” she insisted.

“Your rules, Duchess,” he smiled, and for a moment, he looked charming despite the scar and beard.

“Shall we?” he offered, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow as they made their way toward the door.

Hester was taken aback by how easily he acquiesced. Had he truly been avoiding her, or had she merely jumped to conclusions?

“Happy?” he broke the silence as they strolled back to the dining room.

She nodded, her heart racing as she struggled to gather her thoughts, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his side.

As they settled at the table, she couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze following her every move, the air between them thickening. Then uncertainty crept into her mind—had she made a mistake insisting he join her?