Page 49 of His Godsent Duchess
"Victor," she murmured, turning toward him. "Did you...?"
He dismounted smoothly, securing Toro to a nearby tree. "I had some help," he replied, offering her his hand as she slid down from Sarina's saddle. His touch, warm and steady, lingered for just a moment longer than necessary as he led her to the blanket.
They sat together, the silence between them comfortable, the morning stillness surrounding them like a cocoon. Victor poured wine into two glasses, handing one to her as the sun filtered through the trees above, casting dappled shadows over the blanket.
Christina accepted the glass, still marveling at the scene before her. "I must admit," she said, amused, "I am impressed. Perhaps there is a charming prince beneath all that stern decorum after all."
Victor chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Perhaps," he said, his gaze steady on hers. "Or perhaps you are drawing him out."
Her heart fluttered again, and she found herself smiling, more deeply than she had in some time. "I never imagined you capable of such charm, Your Grace."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do not let it be said that I am incapable of surprising you, Christina."
She laughed softly, the sound light and unrestrained, feeling at ease in a way she hadn't before in his presence. There was something new between them—a shift in the air, a softening that allowed the walls between them to lower, even if just for a moment.
Reaching for a slice of lemon cake, Christina placed it on a plate and carefully spooned cream beside it before handing it to Victor. As he accepted it, she asked, "Tell me about your library. I have seen quite the impressive collection."
Victor leaned back slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "Much of the collection was my father's," he began, his tone growing more reflective. "Though several volumes were acquired by Christian during his travels."
Christina paused, considering her next words. She wanted to know more, to understand him, but she also knew how delicate a subject this could be. "When did Christian and his wife die?" she asked softly, her voice gentle.
Victor's expression darkened slightly as he turned his gaze toward the distant tree line. "Five years ago," he said quietly. "In the colonies."
Christina could feel the weight of his grief. She waited for him to say more, but he did not, and she knew better than to press him further. He had offered her a glimpse into his past, into the sorrow that still lingered, but for now, that was enough.
She shifted, glancing around the clearing before speaking again, her tone lightening. "We should bring the children here," she suggested, hoping to lift the mood.
Victor shook his head, the shadow in his eyes fading as a small smile tugged at his lips. "They would run off into the woods and get lost," he replied.
Christina laughed. "Then we shall have to run after them."
Victor shook his head, amusement brightening his gaze. "You are incorrigible," he muttered.
She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Do you dance, Victor?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I do not."
Christina's lips curved into a playful smile. "What a shame. Shall I teach you?"
His eyes darkened, and something shifted in his expression—something almost dangerous. "I can dance," he said, his voice low. "I simply choose not to."
She clucked her tongue, her tone teasing. "Are you certain? Or is this simply a guise to avoid admitting that you detest all forms of frivolity?"
His gaze locked on hers, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "Care to put that theory to the test?"
Her heart raced at the thought, and before she could stop herself, she nodded, her pulse quickening with anticipation. "I believe I would," she said.
Victor placed his napkin neatly beside his plate and looked around the dinner table, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. His rare expression of amusement did not escape the children's notice, and Kitty, ever the inquisitive one, was quick to address it.
"Papa," she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she studied his face, "why are you smiling?"
Victor did not immediately respond, his smile deepening only slightly as his gaze drifted to Christina. The silence he left in the wake of Kitty's question stirred a wave of excited whispers and giggles among the girls. Still without a word, he rose from his seat and, with a graceful yet deliberate motion, extended his hand toward Christina.
Startled, yet unable to suppress a smile of her own, Christina set down her nearly empty wineglass and placed her hand in his. His fingers were warm, strong, and the contact sent a soft flutter through her chest. As he helped her rise, his hand remained steady, and with the ease of one accustomed to commanding every movement, he placed her hand upon his arm.
Behind them, the soft murmur of voices grew louder as the children exchanged more giggles, their curiosity clearly piqued.
Victor leaned closer as they exited the dining room, his voice low, and the warmth of his breath against her ear sent a ripple of awareness through her. "Do you suppose," he asked with a hint of amusement in his tone, "the children are whispering about us?"
