Summoning her courage, she moved forward and stopped before his desk, where she could catch the faint scent of ink and his musk.
Silence fell again.
Aurelia lowered her gaze. She knew she was supposed to say something. She had to give a reason for intruding on his privacy. But her heart was pounding so hard that she was certain he could hear it.
That wasn’t her fault, however, because she had too much to ask. Too much she wanted to know. Yet, which question would not shatter the fragile peace between them?
In the end, she settled on the safest question.
“I was wondering,” she began, her hands brushing nervously against her gown. “If we could sponsor Nora’s debut. And if—if you would let me accompany her to some events.”
At that, his attention sharpened. Slowly, he closed the book in his hand, the sound echoing strangely through the room.
“Of course,” he replied, holding her gaze. “And Aurelia…” He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. “You need not ask me about money. Do as you please.”
Her lips parted, and she couldn’t help the surprise that flashed across her face.
“Do as you please.”
He usually detested the idea of making changes to the estate. But now? He didn’t mind whatever she planned to do.
For a moment, she could only stare, her heart swelling with warmth. To be given that freedom… it felt like trust, like respect, like a gift she had not known she craved until it was handed to her.
Her cheeks flushed, and she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. A soft laugh escaped her lips. “Thank you.”
His eyes traced the pink hue on her face. His lips twitched, as if he were suppressing a smile, before giving a quick nod and returning to the book in his hand.
Aurelia’s smile faltered as quickly as it came. Her mother’s words stole the light from it, dragging her back into doubt.
Ask. Don’t ask. Say nothing. No, say it. Speak for yourself.
Her thoughts raced as she stared at him. The words were choking her, wanting to be let out. To reveal her desire to lie with him tonight.
She drew a breath, then another. “I…” She paused when his blue eyes narrowed on her. “I am worried about something.” Her fists clenched at her sides. “I am not sure if I should ask you…”
For a moment, nothing moved. Percival said nothing, quietly watching her, waiting for her to continue. But when she didn’t, he rose.
The chair scraped softly across the rug as he unfolded his tall frame proudly. The firelight danced across his broad shoulders as he rounded the desk and crossed to her.
His proximity made her breath catch. She could never get used to it. The faint scent of sandalwood and leather clung to him, and his shadow enveloped her, along with every inch of space between them.
Her heart thudded painfully. She did not move.Couldnot move.
Her lips parted to speak, but no sound emerged.
A part of her—a wild part—did not want to say anything at all. She only wanted to stay there, caught in the charming pull of his gaze, with her doubts dissipating beneath his nearness.
For a long, breathless moment, she only stared up into his eyes, caught in their shimmering blue depths.
“What is it?” he asked lowly, unable to contain his curiosity. “Ask me, Duchess.”
Her lashes fluttered. The way he addressed her made her feel like she was the only woman in his world.
Rather than answering, she found herself staring at his lips and the hard line of his jaw.
What would he do if I leaned forward and kissed him first?
As though reading her mind, as though sensing how badly she wanted to feel his touch, his hand rose. A calloused thumb brushed along her cheek.
