Page 94 of The Duke's Second Bride

He rose to his feet slowly. Though the grief still lingered heavily in his chest, there was a new lightness there as well, a quiet relief he had not known for many long months.

With this maelstrom of emotions swirling within him, he began walking out of the graveyard.

It was time to go home.

Home to his son.

Home to his wife.

CHAPTER 34

Ava hated to admit it, but her encounter with Brandon had shaken her so badly that she was reluctant to leave the house the next day.

It was all for the best, perhaps—though Edith would never object to a visit from her friend, she knew it was impolite to impose upon a hostess so many times in one week.

Instead, she decided to stay inside with Luke and with Pudding. With any luck, she would not run into Christian at all.

Out in the garden, it was a beautiful day. She had brought some bread out with her. Pudding curled up by her feet while she sat on a bench. She fed the cat little scraps of bread, and Pudding purred gratefully in response after each one.

“Yes,” she said softly, just to the cat. “At least I will always have you, Pudding.”

The cat arched its back in response, purring more loudly still. When he had finished the bread she had given him, he meowed plaintively.

Ava let out a sad little chuckle. “So greedy,” she scolded the cat playfully. Then she turned her head. “Are you all right, Luke?” she called.

“Y-yes!” came a shout in reply.

Luke was sitting in the grass a little ways away, his maid next to him, as he focused intently on drawing on a sketch pad. Occasionally, he glanced up and squinted at the two of them.

He had told Ava at the beginning of the morning that he wanted to draw Pudding. It was a difficult task, since the cat was constantly moving here and there, and squirming about, and did not take well to being told what to do.

Because of this, Ava had been given the task of keeping the cat more or less in one place by tempting him with bread.

It must have been working decently well, since Luke had not said otherwise even once.

Ava smiled, looking at the boy as he bent his head over his sketch book.

He looked so much like a tiny Christian, it almost hurt her heart. And yet, it also filled it. She may never have Christian’s loveagain, but she would always be able to have something of a child in Luke.

There was the sound of footsteps. Different than any of the waitstaff. These footsteps were soft but strong, tentative yet firm.

When the steps stopped, and Christian was next to her, she refused to look at him. Still, she could not deny the way her heart ached at the mere proximity.

Finally, she could no longer resist the urge to glance up at him.

God, he was handsome, more so now than ever, perhaps since she was painfully, acutely aware of the fact that she could not have him, and never would again.

His dark hair curled in the sunlight, thick and healthy and occasionally spotted with sprigs of silver. His eyes were dark blue and fixed on her so intensely that she nearly forgot to breathe.

She tried not to show it, however. She kept her breath steady and her voice neutral as she said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

She never could have guessed what came out of his mouth next.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I am so, so sorry, Ava.”