But she said none of it. Her throat tightened around the words before they could rise.
Valentine’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer, and then, with a faint dip of his head, he cleared his throat. “Goodnight, Duchess,” he said.
Cecilia stood still for half a heartbeat, watching the line of his back retreat into the shadows of the corridor. But something in her refused to let the moment end there.
“Your Grace,” she called softly.
He halted.
She took a breath, heart fluttering against her ribs. “I wasn’t uncomfortable that night.” She swallowed. “It wasn’t unwanted.It was, perhaps, the most at ease I’ve felt since I arrived in Ashbourne.”
Still, he said nothing. He didn’t even look back. She stood there as the words hanging between them, waiting for a response that never came. Then, slowly, he resumed walking. His footsteps faded down the corridor until they were swallowed entirely by silence.
Cecilia remained where she was, her chest tightening. She pressed her fingers lightly to her temple, exhaled, and whispered to herself. “Well done, Cecilia.”
She turned, meaning to head to her chamber, only to pause again. “Oh no,” she murmured aloud, realizing what she’d forgotten. Her brows knit in frustration as she glanced over her shoulder, though the hallway was long since empty. “I never thanked him for the book.”
A sigh escaped her as she continued walking. It was an understatement to say that her relationship with Valentine was too complicated to understand.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Something was happening.
Something Valentine was dreadfully worried about.
Cecilia stood at the top of the staircase, her hand lightly resting on the banister. He paused for the briefest of seconds, but it was long enough. He could sense it before he understood it. Like the change in the air before a storm, subtle but charged.
He swallowed once.
The dress, that scandalous shade of red, clung to her far too well. It was elegant but bold in a way he wasn’t certain he was comfortable with other men noticing. Against the soft brown of her hair, the color brought out a kind of glow in her skin he had not remembered noticing before. Or perhaps he had simply refused to notice it.
Without thinking, his hand lifted. Just slightly, only a small movement as she began to descend the staircase. He hadn’t even realized he meant to offer her his hand until it was already there, hovering mid-air between them like something treasonous.
He stilled. His fingers curled into a fist as he lowered his arm, carefully. He had made a promise to himself that he would not touch her. That he would keep boundaries clear, respectable, and untouched.
Yet,That promise had been breaking into pieces for weeks now. He was the one who kept forgetting the rules.
He looked up just in time to see her step off the final stair. Her eyes flicked to his once more with a smile on her face.
Valentine inclined his head, hands firmly behind his back now, tightly clasped, as if holding himself still took effort.
“Why do you look so nervous?” he asked as he led her out of the hall, noting the faint tension in her posture, the way her fingers clutched her reticule just a bit too tightly.
Cecilia hesitated before answering. “If you are not bothered about the rumors, then I suppose I must carry the full weight of them alone.”
He slowed his stride, glancing down at her.
She met his gaze then, her chin lifting just slightly. “Tonight, people will stare and they’ll talk. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to enjoy any of it.”
Valentine’s jaw tensed, just barely, but enough that he felt the ache settle behind his teeth. It wasn’t the gossip that bothered him. He had endured whispers his entire life, some earned, many not. It was her worry that stirred something sharp in him.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked ahead as the carriage came into view, the footman already opening the door. He offered his hand to help her in, but didn’t speak until she was seated.
“Do not concern yourself with the rumors, Duchess,” he said to her. “That is what they are, rumors.”
She didn’t answer him.
Instead, she turned her face slightly toward the carriage window, her fingers loosening around her gloves as she exhaled a quiet sigh. It wasn’t pointed, not exactly, it was the kind of sigh that came from weariness one hadn’t meant to show.
