Eugenia nodded again, her eyes bright with concentration, absorbing every word.
“You are doing very well,” Magnus said again, the stiffness in his tone easing ever so slightly. “A little more attention here, a little less there, and it will be quite excellent.”
The lesson continued, Magnus offering suggestions while Eugenia listened attentively, nodding or gesturing in place of words. Dorothy watched them from her chair, a small smile on her lips. It was… astonishing to see him like this.
The soft hush of their focused work was interrupted by the butler’s careful step into the room. “Your Grace, His Grace is here to see you.”
Magnus straightened immediately, a flicker of formal authority returning to his stance. “Rowan,” he said.
Dorothy glanced at Eugenia, whose expression shifted subtly with curiosity, though she remained focused on the painting. Magnus gave a small nod, and then he turned toward the doorway, ready to receive his friend.
Just as Magnus was about to acknowledge Rowan, the quiet of the room was punctuated by a soft, polite voice. “Miss Eugenia, it is time for your afternoon lessons,” said Mrs. Tresswell, stepping lightly into the drawing room. Eugenia looked up, giving a quick nod, and began to gather her things.
Dorothy rose gracefully, watching Eugenia. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace,” she said quietly, casting a glance at Magnus.
Magnus inclined his head, watching her with that same careful attention, but said nothing. As soon as Eugenia and her governess stepped out of the room, Rowan entered. His eyes immediately found Dorothy, and a warm smile spread across his face. “Your Grace,” he began, pausing courteously, “you lookpositively radiant this morning. I don’t believe we have officially met.”
Dorothy felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks but maintained her composure. She inclined her head politely. “Good morning, Your Grace. You honor me with your words.”
Rowan’s smile widened. “It is no mere courtesy,” he said, his eyes still on her. “I trust you are well today?”
“I am, thank you,” Dorothy replied, allowing herself a small, careful smile. “And you, Your Grace?”
“Quite well,” he said.
Dorothy glanced briefly toward Magnus, whose figure remained still, observing the exchange from across the room.
Rowan’s eyes lingered on Dorothy a moment longer than strictly necessary, and he offered a courteous bow. “I must say you truly look remarkably well this morning,” he observed. “You have an elegance that is most becoming.”
Dorothy inclined her head, maintaining a composed smile. “You are too kind, Your Grace,” she replied softly.
As Dorothy stepped aside to allow him space, she could not help but notice that Rowan was strikingly handsome, his presence commanding yet polite. She maintained her composure, carefulnot to show any reaction beyond the courteous smile she offered in return.
Rowan’s eyes twinkled as he straightened his posture. “I had something I meant to say when I saw Magnus,” he began, glancing briefly at Magnus, “but it seems your presence has entirely undone my train of thought.”
Dorothy could not help herself. A small laugh escaped her, and she threw her head back. Rowan’s smile widened at the sound.
“I see, then,” he said lightly. “That even a man accustomed to business affairs can be rendered quite helpless by a lady’s morning smile.”
Dorothy felt a warmth of ease with Rowan. His polite attention and gentle teasing allowed her to relax in a way she had not expected. She let a small smile linger as they spoke, even daring a light-hearted comment of her own.
Then, her gaze drifted back toward Magnus, and she froze. His eyes were fixed upon her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The air seemed heavier, charged with something ominous. Her laughter caught in her throat, and the cheerful words she had been about to offer Rowan faltered.
Realizing she had lingered too long, she straightened her posture, took a careful breath, and inclined her head politely. “I should excuse myself,” she murmured, her voice steadier than she felt. With that, she stepped back, allowing Rowan his space, even as Magnus’s unwavering gaze followed her retreat.
Before she could take more than three steps out, Rowan called out gently, “I believe the conversation concerns you as well, Your Grace. Perhaps you might care to stay?”
She paused, curiosity piqued, and waited as he turned to Magnus. “You will not forget, Magnus,” Rowan said, “that there is a ball approaching. An important one. Now that you have the duchess by your side, you ought to present her properly to the ton.”
Magnus shifted slightly, the reluctance in his posture evident. “I… I am not certain it is necessary,” he murmured, though his gaze flicked briefly toward Dorothy.
Her eyes brightened, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. “I would very much like to attend,” she said.
Though her voice was calm, there was an undercurrent of excitement that Magnus could not ignore. She had not been out in society since her marriage, and the thought of returning to London—of seeing familiar faces—made her heart stir in a way it had not since her arrival at Walford.
Rowan nodded approvingly. “Then it is settled. Magnus, you must prepare. A duke and his duchess must always appear… coordinated.”
Dorothy offered Magnus a small, careful smile, hoping to soften the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, it seemed to reach him, but then she noticed the unwavering stare he kept locked on her. The warmth of her smile faltered, replaced by a flutter ofunease, and she straightened, excusing herself with measured politeness. Though she had never been particularly fond of balls, the thought of returning to London, of seeing the city’s bustle and life once more, made her heart leap.
