Chapter 31
“I overheard you summoning Leon a little while ago. Did you need something from him?”
“Oh, it was nothing urgent.”
I attempted to dismiss it lightly, hoping to end the exchange there, but the Grand Duke’s stare stayed pinned on me. Those piercing eyes plainly urged me to spill the full tale.
‘Of course he’d wonder why I’d send for his knight so late in the evening.’
Finally, I shared the details of the tomato stew recipe.
As his doubts faded, the intensity in his gaze mellowed into something gentler.
“Spicy tomato stew? You enjoy that?”
“I could devour it daily for an entire week!”
“Spicy tomato stew…”
The Grand Duke murmured under his breath.
“Still, it worries me a touch.”
“Worries you how?”
“It doesn’t appear to be moving much.”
Seizing the moment, I recounted my chat with Madame Marie too.
“Blenheim simply isn’t a draw for tourists,” the Grand Duke observed, appraising his domain with stark detachment.
“The weather stays frigid, but beyond that, we lack amusements for the nobility. Rondoris draws renown for its retreats, drawing most northern aristocrats there or to Arsen for their holidays.”
“Then why not develop such attractions in Blenheim?”
The question slipped out innocently, yet the Grand Duke rubbed the nape of his neck with evident discomfort.
“Well… I’ve neglected the matter.”
“Oh…”
I pride myself on my sharp mind, yet at times I miss the obvious entirely.
Here I stood, quizzing a man burdened with warding off curses and safeguarding the North about his land’s dearth of leisure pursuits.
“Though Blenheim does span a tremendous expanse.”
Sensing the talk veering astray, I pivoted swiftly.
“In any case, Your Grace.”
Ahem.
My abrupt shift to a teasing lilt drew a bemused glance from him.
“Haven’t you spotted anything changed about me?”
“…!”
His inky irises quivered sharply.
“Changed? In what way?”
“Just as I said. Notice anything altered?”
Those jet-black depths shook with fervor.
He couldn’t possibly have picked up on it. He likely hadn’t even registered his own attire.
Stifling a grin, I pressed my lips together while his uneasy eyes roved over me.
“You really don’t see it?”
I rose and twirled gracefully.
The unaltered white gown clung softly, draping in refined pleats.
“Ta-da!”
“Ah…”
A soft exhale escaped him, as comprehension dawned.
“A new dress?”
“Indeed. A present from my husband.”
I gave the skirt a gentle sway.
‘I’m sure he’ll bristle at the husband bit once more.’
I grinned inwardly, anticipating his flustered recoil, but he merely gazed at me, transfixed. His throat bobbed with a swallow.
“It fits you perfectly.”
“Oh… thank you.”
I’d meant to volley a quip, but his earnest delivery threw me.
His look blended cool composure with tender warmth.
The descriptors clashed on paper, yet peering into those shadowed eyes aglow in the lamplight, no better phrase came to mind.
‘Why this sudden parched feeling?’
To escape the pull of his stare, I cleared my throat, banishing the odd sensation.
“Incidentally, why summon the tailor today?”
“…Spring has arrived.”
His fingers drifted to the handle of his cooled teacup.
“I figured you could use fresh garments…”
“You’re not implying my wardrobe falls short for Blenheim, are you?”
“Absolutely not…!”
In that instant, the teacup’s handle cracked with a faint snap.
“…”
“A-Are you all right?”
“I’m unharmed.”
Clutching the severed piece, he dipped his head in faint mortification, though his tone held steady.
“That’s not it at all. Without a lady’s maid yet, I simply wanted to assist…”
A quiet chuckle escaped me at the sight of his broad hands cradling the fragile remnant.
“I know. Only teasing.”
I comprehended fully—and that understanding deepened my gratitude for his care. It was why I’d made the effort to model the dress for him.
“So, with all those purchases, no objections when the invoice arrives. A gift, yes?”
He let out a low, throat-clearing laugh.
“Why the amusement? I truly splurged.”
My shrug coaxed a subtle smile from him.
“Not a peep from me. It’s yours alone—accept it freely.”
His serene words whispered over my skin, stirring an odd flutter in my chest.
‘I believe this is his first genuine smile.’
Those typically firm lips arched in elegant repose.
His obsidian eyes, catching the glow, radiated unforeseen kindness. The novel softness quickened my pulse.
Heat rising in my cheeks, I fanned myself delicately.
“Is the room stuffy? The greenhouse feels overly warm.”
The air was perfectly temperate.
“Care for a stroll?”
He set aside the broken handle and rose at my cue.
Approaching, he extended his arm abruptly.
“For your escort…”
“Oh, thank you.”
Looping my hand through, I startled abruptly.
“…Ah!”
He halted too.
“What is it?”
“…”
“Another jest at my expense?”
His eyes narrowed in wary doubt.
—“Merely startled. Your arm’s incredibly solid.”
I’d said as much our first time. He clearly suspected mockery.
“No jest—feel this, it’s like stone.”
Pouting, I prodded his bicep repeatedly.
“Then you’re soft—”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He cut off abruptly, color flooding his face.
Yet he held steady, so I settled my hand upon it once more.
Today carried a novel charge.
‘He seems… warmer?’
A mere brush, and heat suffused me, pulse hammering.
‘Handsome or not, just from his arm?’
I chalked it up to Annette’s inexperience with gentlemen.
Willing composure, I schooled my features.
We wandered the greenhouse a spell.
Outwardly modest, its interior stretched vast and intricate.
Evidently enlarged over years, with fresh annexes. Moonbeams through vast panes mingled with lantern haze, painting the verdant leaves in shifting hues.
“This spot is truly lovely.”
“…You think so?”
His reply came hushed.
Deep within loomed a carpet of unknown white blooms in riotous display. From each heart sprouted petite buds, like inner petals unfurling anew.
I gazed in wonder.
“They’re exquisite. I’ve never encountered such flowers.”
“Nepras, they’re called.”
I slipped from his arm, bending near for a better view. His shadow fell across me.
“…My mother cherished them.”
“The late duchess?”
His resonant timbre hummed by my ear.
“She built this greenhouse. After her death, I sealed it away.”
Sealed?
That explained Whitley’s reluctance before.
He’d sought approval on my account.
‘He reopened it for me.’
“I’m sorry—I had no idea…”
His voice remained even.
“No need for regrets. I’ve let it languish, so showing you embarrassed me.”
“Had I known, I’d never have pressed to enter…”
He shook his head deliberately.
“No cause for concern. No profound motive kept it shut—just upkeep proved tedious, and… no visitors came.”
At a loss, I faced the blooms again.
“Do Nepras please you?”
He contemplated the pale petals.
“Very much.”
“If you wish, Whitley can deliver some to your chambers.”
“No, thank you.”
I waved it off hastily.
“Too beautiful to sever.”
Inhaling the fertile earth’s aroma beneath them.
“Seeing them here suffices.”
“Then…”
A pause, then:
“Visit whenever you like.”
“What?”
“The greenhouse stays open.”
Turning, our eyes met. Awkwardly, he scratched his neck.
“They endure to midsummer—you’re welcome anytime.”
“…Thank you.”
Silence settled briefly.
Musing on his mother?
His face held steady, but his stare bore subtle solitude.
Such a commanding figure, yet now he appeared almost vulnerable.
And that cravat—askew after mere hours.
‘He truly requires tending.’
I drew nearer.
“Duchess?”
He tensed faintly.
“Your cravat’s gone awry.”
“Ah…”
A downward glance, then he loosened and proffered it.
“…?”
He extended the cloth unresistingly.
“Would you adjust it?”
‘Why this sudden compliance?’
I wavered, but he looked aside.
Accepting it, I draped it round his neck, fashioning a tidy knot.
“Kept it straightforward for evening.”
“Thank you.”
Fingering the bow, he seemed content.
Was that why he’d toted a spare yesterday?
Grinning, I prodded:
“Better when I do it, hmm?”
“…Yes.”
He assented promptly.
“Shall I handle it each morning, then?”
“Yes. …Wait, what?”
Awakening to his words, he shook his head vigorously.
“Why not? Dislike the notion?”
“It’s not—”
Crimson tinged his earlobes.
