“Thank you,” she said softly. “For… everything.”
Austin reached out, brushed a stray curl from her cheek and silently promised to always watch over her. “Get some sleep, Duchess.”
Her breath caught at the title.
“Goodnight,” she whispered and entered her chamber.
Austin looked at her between the spaces of her door and smiled.
“Goodnight...friend.”
I’m married.
The word felt foreign, like an unworthy garment that didn’t quite fit yet. Deena rose, bathed, and her new housekeeper, who happily took on the role as her own personal lady’s maid as well, Mrs. Mildred, dressed her in a simple morning gown of dove-grey muslin. She was a quiet woman, and she was gentle with her hands. Austin confessed that she was excited to finally havea Duchess in the Windemere estate, and she insisted on taking care of Deena personally.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mildred.” Deena looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.
“You are most welcome, Your Grace.” The elderly woman curtsied before she left.
Deena took a minute to catch her breath before she went downstairs to the breakfast parlor. Her stomach twisted not just from hunger, but from the knowledge that she would see Austin. Alone. With no guests around them. Just them, and their heated memories.
We are friends now.
She stopped and reminded herself before she entered his breakfast room. Austin was already there, seated at the head of the table, newspaper folded beside his plate, coffee steaming in a porcelain cup. He looked up the moment she entered. His gaze flicked over her, quick, appreciative, and lingering just long enough on the soft swell of her breasts beneath the muslin before settling on her face with unmistakable heat.
God help me.
“Good morning, Duchess,” Austin said, rising to pull out the chair beside him rather than across the table. His voice was low and intimate and the title felt like a caress wrapped in velvet.
Deena’s stomach flipped. She managed a small nod. “Good morning, Duke.”
“You mean Velvet Duke.” He winked at her and she scowled at him.
Austin waited until she sat. Their fingers brushed against each other’s briefly and Deena felt the heat that stayed behind on her bare skin. He sat so close to her that their knees brushed beneath the table, and he made no move to shift away.
A footman poured her tea without being asked, and Deena wrapped her hands around the cup, grateful for the distraction.
A tense silence stretched for several heartbeats between them.
Austin broke it first. “I thought you might prefer it if I gave you some space today. Time to settle in. Get used to the house. Spend the morning with your family when they arrive.”
The words were perfectly reasonable and considerate. Exactly what a gentleman should say to a bride rushed into marriage under scandal’s shadow.
But a part of her didn’t want space.
She wanted him to slide his chair closer. To let his knee press deliberately against hers under the table. To look at her the way he had last night, like she was the only thing in the world worthseeing. To lean in and whisper something wicked against her ear until she blushed and squirmed —
Deena shook away the thoughts, as though she could physically dislodge them from her mind.
She refused to go back to the dangerous warmth that bloomed whenever Austin was nearby. She needed to remember the fear instead: the sharp, cold uncertainty and self-doubt. They married to save her reputation and his title, nothing more, and she could not afford to be vulnerable with him again.
Not now.
Not ever.
“That… makes sense,” she managed.
Austin watched her for a long moment, eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re sure?”
