Page 51 of The Duke's Second Bride
Ava wouldn’t leave. If only because she needed the stability of the marriage.
And, of course, because of Luke.
He hated that those were the only two reasons he could come up with.
To Ava’s surprise, Christian came to find her the next morning.
She was sitting in the garden, reading a book, when she saw a tall shadow fall across the lawn before her. She looked up, squinting into the sun. Backlit like this, he looked something like an angel.
If the angel in question were an utter prick, of course.
“Good morning, husband,” she said, offering him a cold nod, which Christian returned.
“Good morning,” he said. “May we speak?”
“I believe we already are,” she said, not bothering to keep her tone overly cordial.
Clearly, he was uninterested in maintaining even a polite facade between them, so why should she care?
He sighed. But he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he simply said, “I have business to attend to in London.”
Ava blinked. That didn’t even sound close to an apology. “Oh?” she asked.
“Yes,” he affirmed. “I am due to leave tomorrow. Should I plan for you and Luke to join me?”
Inside, Ava was fuming. How dare he be so cold, as though last night had not occurred at all?
“I’m surprised you are deigning to ask me,” she said, “considering the fact that I have never born a child of my own.”
His eyes tightened. “I have … regrets,” he said finally. “About the state of things between us. Luke is glad to have you here. As am I. We both appreciate how you have helped him.”
It wasn’t an apology. Not even close. But it was, at least, an acknowledgement. Ava hated that she felt even slightly pacified by it. She lifted her chin proudly, as though to mask the uneven brew of emotions welling up within her.
“Well,” she said. “I suppose it would be good for Luke to socialize with a greater variety of people than is available to him on the country estate.”
“I thought so myself,” Christian said in agreement. She was almost shocked by his easy assent. Though, of course, she supposed it was the least he could do, after his cruelty the night before. “You will come as well, then?”
She considered for a moment. “Can Pudding come?”
She saw his jaw stiffen.
“Yes,” he said after a few seconds, though it sounded strained.
She pursed her lips. “Very well,” she said. “Then I will, as well.”
His brow lifted. “Good,” he said. “Very good.”
Those eyes—brighter, sharper, impossibly blue—made her anger falter. Try as she might, her irritation did nothing to dull the pull she felt toward him.
“Good,” she replied.
Their eyes locked, and the space around her shrank until the air between them felt electric, each breath a spark she could feel on her skin.
“Well,” Christian said at last, breaking eye contact. “Good. We will leave tomorrow morning, early. Make your preparations accordingly.”
“I shall have my things packed by tonight,” she replied sharply.
“Fine,” he said.
