Page 25 of The Wallflower and the Duke
She nodded as he took her a few more steps away. The soft carpet beneath his boots cushioned their footfalls. It was a dark house, the walls of wood and stone, covered in tapestries, dark drapes, and paintings. His father had been an avid art collector. Alfie had shared the same passion and, along with portraits and landscapes, also liked to collect maps.
He clutched Marjorie’s hand, never letting go, as they approached the grand staircase Percy used to chase him around on Christmas holiday. Once, they had taken their mattresses off their beds and raced down the staircase until their mother had discovered what they were doing and scolded them both.
With each step, he expected the panic to come, the sour stomach, and the metallic taste in his mouth. While the rest of him felt on edge, the panic mostly subsided. He was determined to go on a walk.
“Where are we going?” Marjorie asked. “Alfie,” she said, tugging on his hand.
He stopped on the landing, spinning back to see her standing there a step above him, gazing down on him as if she were a queen. By God, she was beautiful. Simply stunning. Her smile was his favorite.
“It’s a nice day,” he said. “We’re going on a walk.”
“We’re going on a walk?” she asked, clearly confused.
“Agreed,” he said, then held her hand once again, continuing down the stairs before his mind could catch up to what his body was doing. Before the excuses could start or the fear could take hold. He was done with it all.
For Marjorie, he would leave his room, leave this house, go to London, and protect her. He would help her reclaim what was rightfully hers because he loved her and was proud of her. Above all else, she had done the hard work, not Percy. Percy had capitalized on Alfie’s hard work throughout school, always relying on his charm. But Alfie wouldn’t let him win, not now, not again. He’d already taken Marjorie away from him the first time.
He would claim what was his, speak up for himself, and fight, no matter his fear. He had lost too much already, and time was unforgiving.
He opened the door and waved her outside, struck by her genuine smile.
“Very well, Your Grace,” she said.
“Very well, my lady. No need to stand on formalities now, is there?”
She shook her head. “I only wanted to try it the once. I like you best as my Alfie.”
He offered her his arm. She slipped her hand through, and the two of them walked down the front steps of the house, out onto the stone drive, and farther still out toward the pond.
“I like that best as well.”
CHAPTER 7
Marjorie gazed over at Alfie, her eyes tracing his face for any sign of panic or fear. She felt the tension rippling down his shoulder and forearm, yet he didn’t pause.
With another glance behind her shoulder, she was surprised to see Hollyvale slowly grow smaller behind them as they weaved through the gardens, heading deeper into the park. A lot of the flowers were spent, yet another sign of autumn well on its way. But the sun was warm on her skin, the air heavy with the scent of earth and leaves and a slight hint of burned sugar.
Her body still buzzed, and she was certain she had a heavy blush on her cheeks from the mere memory of that balcony and how Alfie had moved over her, desperate and hungry.
Alfie cleared his throat as if returning from a daze and pulling them both to a stop. “I should apologize.”
She tilted her head, studying his face. She loved the way his short curls piled on top of his head, the sun streaking gold and weaving through.
“We can return,” she started. “If it’s too much. I am already so proud.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not that.” He held his hand out and ran it through her hair, capturing a small lock between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re here,” he whispered, reverence heavy in his voice.
She nodded.
“And we are walking the park as if?—”
“Like we always did.”
“Would you like to go on the rowboat on the pond? Like we used to.”
Marjorie couldn’t shake the memory of his fingers on her, the feel of his tongue against her until she fell apart beneath him. Capable and handsome.
She spun out of his touch and backed up a step, before throwing her arms wide and tilting her face up toward the sun.
