Thirty-Six
Asennight later, Theo reached down and offered his hand as April stepped from the carriage. She placed her gloved fingers into his and allowed him to steady her as her boots touched the gravel drive. He did not release her hand, not yet.
She stood for a moment, eyes lifted to the great façade of Stone Hall. The breeze caught the hem of her cloak and tugged it lightly as if urging her forward, but she did not move just yet. She stared upward with the stillness of a woman bracing herself not because of fear but because of some invisible threshold newly crossed.
Theo watched her profile—serene, thoughtful, no trace of the dread that once clung to her when she thought of this place. He felt something coil tight in his chest, something deep and protective and painfully tender.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, and his voice nearly caught on the question.
April turned toward him with a smile that lit every corner of him. “Like a brave prince banished all my fears,” she said, her gaze warm. “And like this is home.”
God help me,Theo thought,I would burn the whole world just to keep that look in her eyes. I would set it alight and never ask for the ashes.
He wanted to pick her up, spin her in a wide circle, kiss her until the sun dipped beneath the trees. Instead, he squeezed her hand and led her up the steps.
Redmond waited at the door, flanked by Mrs. Maple and nearly every servant who could fit discreetly into the foyer. The air inside the hall held a faint trace of lavender and woodsmoke.
“Your Grace,” Redmond intoned with genuine pleasure. “Welcome home.”
Mrs. Maple bobbed a curtsy, beaming. “It warms my heart to see you both looking so well. We’ve kept everything just as you like, and the kitchen has prepared a small welcome supper.”
“We are so glad to have our duchess back,” said one of the maids, her cheeks pink with excitement.
April’s voice was gracious but light. “Thank you, all of you. I am so happy to return to such warmth.”
Theo added, “We’ve missed the hall—and its company.”
There were murmurs of pleased assent before Redmond ushered them forward, leading them through the familiar halls as though nothing had changed. Yet everything had.
They stepped into the drawing room, and April moved to the window, brushing her fingers over the back of the settee. She glanced toward him over her shoulder, her eyes beautiful, bright, and curious.
“It feels different,” she murmured.
“The drawing room?”
“No,” she said, turning fully to face him. “Being back. Being here with you. It’s as though something has shifted.”
“It has,” he said. “You’ve turned this place from a mausoleum into something alive. And mine is not the only heart grateful for it.”
She laughed gently. “You speak as though you were the one rescued.”
“Perhaps I was. Perhaps you came to Stone Hall to save us both.”
She stepped toward him then, close enough for her skirts to brush against his legs. “And what if I told you I rather liked the thought of saving a brooding duke?”
“Then I should say he is now a thoroughly ruined man.”
Her gaze softened. “Not ruined. Just… better.”
He caught her waist, unable to restrain the impulse any longer. “May I kiss my wife in her own drawing room?”
She turned to him, eyes shining. “Only if you mean to make a thorough affair of it.”
He kissed her then, slow and sure, savoring the feel of her. Her hands curled at his collar, and he felt the world narrow to the press of her lips.
When they parted, she tilted her head. “Do you intend to do this all day?”
“Without pause. Though I suppose I must let you breathe.”
