Page 20 of The Duke’s Second Bride (Regency Second Chances #4)

L ife at the country estate quickly settled into a peaceful routine.

Christian watched from afar as Luke began to spend more time with Ava and Pudding, seeking out their company nearly constantly when he wasn’t otherwise occupied with his tutors and lessons.

Today, she was helping him with a small garden. The boy had expressed a desire to learn how to tend to flowers, in addition to the fruits and berries they had in the orchards.

Ava, despite having only been here a few days and not having many dresses that were suitable for the task, seemed to have no hesitation in rolling up her sleeves and getting her elbows deep in the mulch.

Christian watched through a nearby window as the two gardened. Luke pointed at a smudge of dirt on her forehead, cackling. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, which only left another smudge on that perfectly arched nose, which made the boy laugh even harder.

She matched his laughter, all but collapsing in the mud.

As Christian watched, he could not help but mark the way her wrists were so pale and so delicate beneath the mud.

The bright sun danced off her golden curls and her hazel eyes, and her teeth when she smiled brilliantly.

Her bosom pressed against the neckline of her dress as she breathed heavily from the exertion.

He could practically hear the musical chime of her laugh through the window.

Something moved at his feet, and he nearly leapt away. Looking down, he realized it was Pudding.

He scowled.

“How did you get in here?” he asked crossly. “Weren’t you just outside?”

Pudding let out a displeased sound, arching his back, and Christian sighed.

“No,” he said, “I suppose you are too prim and proper to risk getting your fur muddy, isn’t that right? You aren’t even the useful kind of cat, who would catch rats and things. Leave it to Ava to bring an unexpected beast into my house that won’t even get out of the way by going outside.”

Surprisingly, in response to these uncharitable words, the cat only pressed itself more intently against Christian’s legs, winding around and scratching its own head against him.

“How long has she had you? A year? You’re still a kitten, really, aren’t you?”

He looked back out the window. Pudding tried to scratch his leg; he waved the cat away.

“Go on. Shoo.”

Ava and Luke had gotten back to their task in earnest, though every so often one of them let out an unprompted laugh.

Christian pushed aside the feeling of being left out. He wasn’t a gardener. And Ava was only doing what he had told her to do: help Luke. Helping to care for Luke. That was her job.

That was the only reason she was here, and that was the only thing Christian wanted or needed from her.

But as he watched, he could not help but doubt his own ability to make it through an entire lifetime with Ava without wanting more.

Life at the country manor brought Ava a more confusing mix of emotions than she had ever known, or could have predicted.

In her youth, she had always loved animals.

Her parents had been pleased by this at first, glad that she was strong and healthy after their firstborn daughter had passed away from sickness as an infant.

But as Ava reached young womanhood, her parents began to express concern that her affinity for the outdoors was unladylike.

Combined with her already strong temper and forceful personality, how would she ever find a husband?

And so, she had been all but banished from the country estate, sent to London to be finished as a proper lady. By the time she married William at nineteen, she was thoroughly trained in how to be a good and obedient wife to him.

Luke kept his promise, and he and his nurse did indeed give Ava a thorough tour of the grounds.

With every passing day, Ava fell deeper and deeper in love with her new role as duchess. The grounds of Christian’s country estate were vast and varied, with the orchard, a lake, hunting grounds, and gardens, now including the small herb garden she had planted with Luke.

In so many ways, getting to care for Luke made Ava feel as though she were giving herself the childhood she had longed for but never had. As though she was starting to look at a younger version of herself, one allowed to enjoy the outdoors and animals that had been denied her in her youth.

His shyness, she soon found, really was just a facade brought on by nerves. When he was safe and comfortable, it fell immediately, as often his stutter did. And even his stutter did not diminish the intelligence of the ideas and thoughts that he expressed.

He was a delightful and lively child, and eager to share stories with someone who was patient with him. He was also eager and ready to engage in whatever silly activities Ava might suggest.

For example, on this particular day, they were in a courtyard within the manor, accompanied by Pudding.

In addition to being the location of their special garden, the courtyard was also the only outdoor area on the grounds where the spunky ginger cat could be properly allowed to roam free, and so they spent a good deal of their time there.

Pudding seemed to adore Luke just as much as Luke adored the cat.

Pudding meowed.

“Meow,” Luke said back, parroting the sound the cat had made as best as he could.

Recently, Luke had taken to the idea that Pudding spoke his own language, and that they could communicate with him if they were only able to learn it.

Ava had agreed. After all, Pudding seemed to understand a few of the English commands she gave him—mostly things like “off the table,” and “good cat,” and “dinner.”

Why shouldn’t they be able to learn a few cat sounds that correspond? It couldn’t hurt, she reasoned. If anything, it was just a harmless form of play. And besides, her job was to care for Luke, and didn’t that involve getting him out of his shell?

They had tried it several times now, and, indeed, it seemed to help with Luke’s stammer.

Sometimes, when he stammered while speaking to Ava or one of his nurses, he would insert a “meow” into his speech.

Whether from the levity the sound added, or for some scientific reason Ava was unaware of, it actually did seem to help with his stammer.

Pudding looked at him in curiosity and tilted his head, giving them the impression that he perhaps did understand something of what Luke had said. Or, if nothing else, that he was wondering why the humans he lived with were suddenly attempting to repeat sounds at him.

Luke giggled. “H-he understood!”

Ava nodded. “I wonder what you said to him?” she asked, encouraging Luke.

He seemed to stutter less and less these days.

And even when he did stutter with Ava, it didn’t seem to discourage him from the way it did in the past, when he was in stressful social events.

He was able to stutter over a word or two and then continue, without letting it overwhelm him the way it used to.

“I th-think he was saying if I was having a good d-day.” Luke smiled. “Now you try, Ava.”

Ava leaned forward, resting her elbows on her lap and looking Pudding very carefully in the eyes.

“Meow,” she said.

Pudding meowed back at her, and the three of them repeated the sound back and forth a few times.

“What is going on here?”

Luke stumbled to his feet, and Ava followed suit. Pudding didn’t budge an inch, instead moving to lick his paw as unhurriedly as if he did not have a single care in the world, which, considering he was a well-loved cat, he probably didn’t.

Christian stood above them, with an expression on his face that might have been a grimace of disapproval, or may have just been the result of squinting through the bright morning sunlight. Ava would have put her money on it being some combination thereof.

“G-good day, F-f-father.” Luke nodded.

This wasn’t uncommon. For all of Luke’s improvements with his stutter in the time since Ava had joined their household, she found it clear to observe that his stutter often returned around his father.

This, to his credit, she thought, didn’t seem to be from any cruelty on Christian’s part.

Whatever her personal issues with him, he was a caring father.

He was often stiff and uncomfortable around Luke, but it seemed clear that he loved the boy very much.

Luke never wanted for anything that could be provided with money, and even in his most stiff and awkward moments, he still tried to encourage the boy.

“Good day, Luke.” He nodded at Ava, but did not greet her by name.

She did not bother to correct him. In the times since that first kiss, he had pulled back to a degree that both relieved and offended her.

On the one hand, it was a relief that she did not have to suffer through the awkward conversation that would surely ensue if she demanded to know why he had rejected her.

But on the other hand, the rejection stung.

Whether Ava liked to admit it or not, she felt a powerful attraction towards her new husband. Even now, after their rocky first meeting and even rockier wedding night, even after he had kissed her and then immediately rejected her, she was still rendered near breathless by the sight of him.

He was so tall and so strong, with the muscles of his body pressing slightly but enough to show even through the several layers of his undergarments, shirts, and coats.

He was a little older than she—nearing his fourth decade, while she was but seven-and-twenty—but he carried those years with striking ease.

His dark hair showed no trace of grey, thick and unruly enough to tempt her fingers.

His eyes, a piercing blue, seemed always to catch and hold hers, even now, when a flicker of displeasure shadowed them.

Under that gaze, she felt herself soften, melt, as though every defense she might raise would dissolve before he even spoke.

“Good day, husband,” she said.