Page 45 of Duke of Pride

He was about to get up, too, when he noticed that Victoria was still seated, looking at him as if he were an equation she was trying to solve. He decided to ignore her look. Nothing good would come of it.

CHAPTER13

Pic Nic

It’s been a couple of days, and it was the most fun Victoria had for a while. She loved that the house was filled with people, the halls bustling with babble and laughter. She had prepared so many games and fun activities, and she was elated to see every guest participate with enthusiasm. From charades to bowling, from card games to improvised plays, she had thought of entertainment for all her guests, and they were so amused that their smiles never left their faces.

Dorothy was beside herself with joy, and Victoria was empowered by her smile. Having Annabelle here was making the Dowager Duchess’s heart burst with joy. The fact that the usually silent and empty house was filled with laughter and merriment was healing old wounds. And all was worth it to see Dorothy alive and happy.

“Everything is ready for the picnic.” Dorothy was early in the morning room, going over the details.

“I just checked the pantry, and we need nothing else for now.” Victoria flopped down on an armchair.

“You are doing an amazing job. But you need to rest too.”

“I am having so much fun that I feel no tiredness.”

“Itisso fun!” Dorothy gushed, and then her eyes strayed to the end of the hallway. “Do you thinkhewill join us today?”

Because there was, of course, someone who was not enjoying himself. When it came to a certain host, he was the very picture of misery. Nothing was to his liking, and he criticized every activity for being too loud, too improper, too indecorous.

Stephen had been glum these past days, to say the least.

He never expressed those sentiments loudly except to Dorothy and Victoria, though his deep scowl, which resembled a man smelling something foul, said it all. He participated in only one activity—archery. And Victoria regretted having included it in the program.

She tried—and failed—to forget the way Stephen had looked during the archery contest. When provoked to show his sportsmanship, he deliberately removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong, veiny forearms. Then his stance. Effortlessly powerful.

She was still embarrassed by her sharp intake of breath when his movements pulled his shirt taut across his shoulders, the way his jaw had tightened just before release. It was indecent, really, how a man could make precision look so sinful.

“It is a pity,” Dorothy said, startling her out of her daydream. “I wish he would enjoy himself too.”

When Victoria saw the sad look on her face, she knew that Stephen had to come to the picnic no matter what. So, she made her way to his sanctuary—his study. That is where he was cooped up most of the day, rarely seen at any other time other than meals.

“Your Grace.” She knocked on the door.

“I am busy,” he growled.

Not today.

Victoria squared her shoulders. “I am coming in.”

“Miss Victoria, I?—”

She opened the door and went inside. He was sitting on the sofa by the window, buried in paperwork, Euclid at his feet. He had thrown his coat on a chair, and he had once more rolled up his sleeves.

Victoria was momentarily stunned by how casual and domesticated he looked.

The dog was at least happy to see her, and he got up to meet her halfway. She bent to pet him.

“I told you I am busy,” Stephen barked.

“And I told you that we are having a picnic today.”

“I am aware. You have developed the bad habit of informing me of the daily activities. I thought you were smart enough to get the hint that I am not interested every time I ignore your bulletins.”

“Your guests are waiting.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Of all the activities she had organized, irritating him remained the best one.

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