Page 38 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

Where all is still, and safe, and sound.

Her arms uncrossed, and she furiously wiped at her face with the back of her hand. But she didn’t move to cross her arms again, didn’t stiffen her posture or try to turn away from her brother’s influence. She had every opportunity to leave, and she remained firmly in place.

Little Wolf howls against the moon

His lullaby singing, ‘Let’s play again, soon.’

“You know this part,” Gabriel said softly, holding out a hand. “Sing with me, Charlotte.”

Choking back tears, Charlotte’s stubborn streak soon wore itself down. With an irritable huff, she stomped across the field and practically headbutted into Gabriel’s chest, allowing his arms to fall over her body. He waited patiently, stroking her hair and humming the verses once more to himself, until finally, her wobbling voice met with his.

Little Wolf howls against the moon

His lullaby singing, ‘Let’s play again, soon.’

‘We’ll run through the meadow, beneath Orion’s star.’

For now, sleep soundly, wherever you are.

How long had it been since he’d sung that song? Gabriel continued to hum the tune gently, stroking his sister’s hair as she slowly began to let herself open up to him. Briefly, his eyes met with Thalia’s gaze, having long-since abandoned her portrait.

Her expression looked… relieved, radiating with a warm understanding only another eldest could fully comprehend. She then blinked, face reddening as she waved a servant toward her, indicating the cleanup of their art supplies before excusing herself with a neat curtsy.

And as she crossed the lawn and headed back inside, Gabriel made it his mission to hunt her down.

* * *

Thalia was glad she had left when she had. Once it became clear that the duke had taken her advice to heart, she watched him a mere moment more before slipping away. This wasn’t her moment to intrude upon, after all; she hardly wanted to take attention away from the Harding siblings.

Many hours passed, and she took to occupying herself in the library, wanting to give the pair as much space as she possibly could. She tried to busy herself with reading, exploring the shelves—Thalia even took to digging out the frog-eyed bust from behind the writing table. Staring at the duke’s ridiculous visage gave her a modicum of comfort, and still, her stomach twisted and soured. She had truly stuck her nose too far into their business, and for that, Thalia wondered if she should begin packing her things.

As she stood to do just that, though, a light knock came from the library’s door. Before she could answer, a gasp slipped out in its place, and Thalia found herself staring at the duke himself.

To say he was unreadable was a horrific understatement; his posture remained firm, his expression cool and unflinching. But the eyes entirely gave way to his true thoughts, and the man looked…tired. Hurt, perhaps, as he returned her gaze, but weary through and through.

He crossed the door’s threshold and closed it gently behind him. The room’s tension buzzed in Thalia’s ear, and it was all she could do not to completely tear her gloves apart.

She opened her mouth to speak, but found her tongue dry, her lips disconnected from her mind. And thus, she kept silent, unwilling to break away from her predator’s stare. To look away would mean certain doom; she was sure of it.

Finally, the duke spoke to her, his tone nearly as unreadable as the rest of him. “I’m not sure I’ve seen her so upset in quite some time.”

Thalia’s blood ran cold. This was it.

“She spoke quite in length about our… parents,” he continued, slowly making his way closer to Thalia, gaze unmoving. “Everything she had told you earlier this morning.”

“Y-Your Grace.”

“I won’t stand here and say my ego remained unaffected by all this,” the duke interrupted, “because that would be a lie. To think, my own sister—my last blood relative, for whom I have cared since our parents’ departure—shared such intimate and troubling thoughts with someone that isn’t—that she didn’t come to me at all without coaxing is simply—it’s…”

Thalia blinked, watching as the duke struggled with his words. It was… unnerving, to say the least, and his mouth eventually snapped shut in a frustrated grimace. He ran a hand through the length of his hair, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face briefly before being pushed away. Anger? Or, something more refined …irritation? Disappointment?

“Guilt,” Thalia murmured softly, unaware she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

The duke’s eyes widened, and the emotion fully encapsulated him. His posture hunched inward, his shoulders tensed terribly, and his face—no amount of rigidity could hide the ache he must have held deep in his heart.

“You’re… feeling guilty,” Thalia repeated, “Because Charlotte didn’t feel as if she could share those thoughts with you.”

He stared at her, long and hard; when was she going to learn to keep her mouth shut?

---