Page 30 of My Blind Duke
Prudence could not remember anything after Melanie had gone off to find help. She did have a moment of immense warmth, despite the pain and it was when Melanie told her that the duke had carried her to her room that finally realized what it was.
The duchess had woken up and caught notes of the duke’s musky scent over her pillows and it made her blush whenever she smelled it.
She had not expected that he would help her. She really did believe he was dead set on getting rid of her.
“Perhaps not to the point where he would want me dead,” she mumbled to herself, eyes skimming through the words of the book in her lap without really seeing.
Prudence thought of the duke more often than she was willing to admit. She did not understand why, considering how they could never seem to do anything other than argue whenever they were in the same vicinity.
But then, she recalled the way he had kissed her and the pieces seemed to fall into place. She could not think, could not breathe – had not wanted to do any of those things because they would take away from the most important thing happening at that moment.
His kiss.
And that was a trade she was not willing to make.
Now it was as though he had consumed her entire being. She found herself looking out for him in hallways, subtly longing to be summoned by him. It likely was not a wise thing, to think somuch about a man who had doubts about her involvement in the murder of her late husband.
But she could not seem to help herself when she was around him.
Prudence had decided to actively try to bring William and Melanie together, greatly saddened by the strained relationship. Particularly after Melanie had spoken about how attentive her father had been while Prudence was unwell, as though a miracle had transpired.
It was clear they could fix things if they were given a proper chance. But it appeared that the duke was unwilling to budge far enough for Melanie to take the first step, even if she wished to do so.
After a whole night of thinking about what she could do to help the estranged father and daughter, she came up with an idea that had her rushing off to the music room after she had walked Melanie off to her first lesson.
“All right,” she inhaled deeply as she took a seat on the piano bench and put her fingers on the keys. “Let me give it a shot.”
However, after five minutes of playing, she became well aware of why she hardly ever set foot inside this room on a general basis. Prudence had thought that this would have gone much smoother, hoping to freshen her skills, but she quickly lamented having ignored her music lessons as a young lady herself.
“Oh,” she sighed as she started again, consecutively hitting the wrong notes and making what was more like a horrible noise than beautiful music. “Oh, dear God. My mother was right. Neglecting my piano lessons has indeed come upon me at a time of need!”
It was no use. She could not do it. She was far too bad at the pianoforte, and her plans of hoping to remind the duke of the joy of music, to motivate him to teach Melanie again, continued to fall apart.
With a sigh and whispered motivation to herself, Prudence tried once more, wincing at the sounds the piano was making that sounded nothing like music. Suddenly, she heard the door creak open.
“I came looking for the dying animal I could hear all the way from my study, but, alas. It is merely the Duchess of Pemberly, playing the pianoforte.”
Prudence turned around, eyes widening at the sight of the duke casually leaning against the door.
Her gaze fell upon his arms, taking in how his muscles seemed to look bigger because he had folded his arms and remembered that he had carried her to her chambers after she had fainted.
Heat filled her cheeks and she whirled around to face the piano once more.
“I… I was just warming up.”
“Is that so?” he hummed with a playful lilt.
Prudence glared at him over her shoulders and began to play again, feeling increasingly hopeless the more she progressed.
With a sigh, she dropped her hands, startled when his warm skin came in contact with hers as the duke lifted her hands back to where they had been, but slightly adjusting their posture.
“A lot of pianoforte skills come from impeccable posture. You need to ensure that you are sitting upright and your hands are poised comfortably over the keys,” he told her, his voice lacking its usual sharp and hard edge.
Prudence nodded and tried playing, immediately finding out that he was right – she did feel much more comfortable with playing. But she was still bad because she did not know which notes were to come before others from the music sheets she had tried to memorize just that day.
“I am having a bad day,” she mumbled under her breath.
“I am sure,” William nodded solemnly, clearly trying not to smirk. “I am sure you will be better on a good day.”
