Page 52 of His Godsent Duchess
Victor nodded curtly and turned on his heel, walking toward the door. He could feel Miss Peversly's eyes on him as he left the ballroom, but he had no interest in lingering further. His initial instinct had been to head to his study, where solitude and the comfort of his books would provide some much-needed reprieve. But as he strode through the corridor, a sudden thought occurred to him, and his direction shifted.
The children's rooms.
As he neared their chambers, the soft sound of Christina's voice drifted through the partially open door. He paused, standing just outside, not wanting to interrupt. Her voice was melodic, weaving through the familiar tale she was telling.
"And then, just as the clock struck midnight, Cinderella fled from the ball, her heart racing, leaving behind her glass slipper on the grand staircase…"
Agnes's small voice piped up, interrupting the flow of the story. "Why didn't she go back for it? She must have known she left it there."
Victor leaned against the doorway, a smile tugging at his lips. From his vantage point, he could see Christina seated on the edge of Agnes's bed, her auburn hair catching the soft candlelight. Agnes was nestled under her covers, while Amelia and Cassidy sat up in their own beds, listening intently to the story. Katherine, being older, had her own chamber.
Christina chuckled softly, her laughter a sound that seemed to light up the room. "Ah, my dear, if you are patient, you will discover why Cinderella didn't return for her slipper."
"Butwhen?" Agnes insisted, her small hands gripping the edge of the blanket, her wide eyes filled with curiosity.
"At the end of the story, darling," Christina replied, her tone teasing. "And if you wait just a little longer, you shall know."
Agnes huffed, folding her arms in mock impatience, but soon, laughter bubbled up from the other girls, and even Agnes couldn't resist joining in.
Victor felt an unexpected chuckle escape him, though he remained in the shadows of the doorway, unwilling to intrude on the scene. A warmth spread through his chest, and for a brief moment, the frustration he had felt earlier faded. This—this was what he had wanted for his children. A sense of closeness, of warmth, of family. And Christina… Christina had brought that into their lives in a way he hadn't thought possible.
Deciding this was not a matter that needed his intervention, he turned quietly and made his way back toward his study. There would be no need to address Miss Peversly's concerns this evening—not when the children were laughing, content, and clearly thriving.
Once in his study, Victor moved to his desk and sat down heavily. He stared at the papers scattered across the surface, but his mind was far from the ledgers and reports. Instead, his thoughts lingered on Christina, on the way she had so effortlessly integrated herself into his life, into his children's lives. As much as he tried to maintain his distance, there was no denying her influence.
The door to his study creaked open, and Victor straightened, his pulse quickening ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, he thought—hoped—that it might be Christina returning.
But instead, it was Ashing.
Victor suppressed a sigh, though his disappointment must have been evident in his expression, for Ashing immediately raised a brow as he stepped into the room.
"Well now," Ashing began, his eyes glinting with amusement. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you look rather disappointed to see me, brother."
Victor shook his head, leaning back in his chair and attempting to appear nonchalant. "Nonsense," he said, though the ease he tried to project felt forced. "You are always a welcome guest."
Ashing, ever perceptive, didn't miss a beat. He sank into the chair opposite Victor's desk and gave him a knowing look. "Were you expecting someone else?"
Victor felt his eyes narrow ever so slightly, but he waved a hand dismissively. "What nonsense are you speaking now, Ashing?"
Ashing shrugged with a playful smirk. "Oh, I don't know… your wife, perhaps?"
Victor stiffened at the mention of Christina, though he quickly masked it with a casual wave of his hand. "You are incorrigible."
Ashing laughed, his tone light but probing. "I've only known you to be this discomposed when there's a woman involved. Tell me, Victor… are you falling in love with the duchess?"
The question hit Victor harder than he expected. His gut twisted uncomfortably, and a tight knot formed in his chest. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words didn't come easily.
"I have no heart, Ashing," he finally muttered, his voice more strained than he intended.
Ashing chuckled, but then his expression turned more serious. "You may claim that, Kilton, but I've seen the change in you. The children—they're better behaved, happier. And you… you're more involved with them. You are a better father than you've been in years, and I think we both know who to thank for that."
Victor remained silent, his mind racing, though he kept his gaze steady.
Ashing leaned forward, his voice softening. "If this is what love looks like, Victor… then for once, I think you should let yourself fall."
Victor raised a hand, cutting him off before the words could settle too deeply. "I married Christina so that my children would have the mother they need. Nothing more."
As Victor spoke the words, they felt less like a statement for Ashing and more like a reminder to himself.
