Page 34 of His Stolen Duchess

Her brow arched. “It was a lapse. Is that how you see it?”

“An indulgence,” he corrected. “One I won’t repeat.”

Georgina nodded once. “Understood.”

Lysander expected her to leave then, to turn and sweep out with one of her dramatic little gestures, head high and spine straight. But she didn’t.

Instead, she looked at him for a long time, so long he almost asked what she saw.

Georgina stepped back at last. “Good night, Lysander.”

“Good night.”

She turned and left without another word, her footsteps fading down the corridor.

Lysander sat back down at his desk, picked up his pen, and stared at the page.

That’s the first time she’s called me by my first name.

The figures before him became blurred. The candle sputtered. Somewhere beyond the study walls, a floorboard creaked.

He had his answer now—clarity, honesty, all the things she had asked for. And yet, the air felt heavier than before.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

Lysander yawned as he walked down the hallway that led to the library. It had been a late night going over the accounts for his estate, and even after that, he hadn’t gotten much sleep. He’d spent some of the time thinking about what he might do with Georgina.

He wanted to do something to make her time at the manor more pleasant and to stop her from coming to him constantly. She was obviously unsatisfied with her role at the estate, and perhaps there was a way to either make her feel more at home or at least give her something more meaningful to do.

A sound caught his ear. It came from the great hall, and he was sure at first that it was an animal. When he got closer, he found that it was laughter. Not just one person, but a small group ofthem, and it was the type of laughter that was not at anyone’s expense.

It was joyful laughter, happiness, contentment.

He drew closer, hoping to discover the source of such merriment, already suspecting that his new wife had something to do with it. Never had he heard such laughter in his manor before.

He reached the hall to find the large doors closed and the laughter coming from behind them. He didn’t need to know what was causing the laughter, but he found that he wanted to know how she had elicited such joy.

Lysander threw the doors open, and as soon as he did, Mr. Squawksby seized his chance like Wellington at Waterloo. He flew straight toward the doors, and Lysander had to duck to avoid being mowed down by the fowl.

The laughter in the hall ended abruptly. He was startled by the surprised faces staring back at him, the most surprised belonging to Georgina.

Mrs. Kettleworth was there, along with a few maids and footmen. Mr. Jenkins, the butler, was also in the hall, but far off to one side, and looked like he was there in more of a supervisory capacity.

Silence reigned for a few seconds before Georgina led the charge.

“After him!” she called.

She looked at Lysander guiltily, then ran past him and out the door. None of the servants met his eyes as they sprinted past him and after the parrot.

Did I manifest this? I wished for something to keep her more occupied, and I certainly got my wish.

The butler was the only one left in the room. He walked smartly to the door and nodded to the Duke.

“Your Grace,” he said before leaving the room.

Lysander shook his head, then turned on his heels to follow the parrot parade.

He found the parrot and its followers in the library, and was glad he was not the one who got there first. It was much safer to be looking in than to be amongst the chaos.