Page 41 of The Duke's Second Bride
He was a delightful and lively child, and eager to share stories with someone who was patient with him. He was also eager and ready to engage in whatever silly activities Ava might suggest.
For example, on this particular day, they were in a courtyard within the manor, accompanied by Pudding. In addition to being the location of their special garden, the courtyard was also the only outdoor area on the grounds where the spunky ginger cat could be properly allowed to roam free, and so they spent a good deal of their time there. Pudding seemed to adore Luke just as much as Luke adored the cat.
Pudding meowed.
“Meow,” Luke said back, parroting the sound the cat had made as best as he could.
Recently, Luke had taken to the idea that Pudding spoke his own language, and that they could communicate with him if they were only able to learn it.
Ava had agreed. After all, Pudding seemed to understand a few of the English commands she gave him—mostly things like “off the table,” and “good cat,” and “dinner.”
Why shouldn’t they be able to learn a few cat sounds that correspond? It couldn’t hurt, she reasoned. If anything, it was just a harmless form of play. And besides, her job was to care for Luke, and didn’t that involve getting him out of his shell?
They had tried it several times now, and, indeed, it seemed to help with Luke’s stammer. Sometimes, when he stammered while speaking to Ava or one of his nurses, he would insert a “meow” into his speech. Whether from the levity the sound added, or for some scientific reason Ava was unaware of, it actually did seem to help with his stammer.
Pudding looked at him in curiosity and tilted his head, giving them the impression that he perhaps did understand something of what Luke had said. Or, if nothing else, that he was wondering why the humans he lived with were suddenly attempting to repeat sounds at him.
Luke giggled. “H-he understood!”
Ava nodded. “I wonder what you said to him?” she asked, encouraging Luke.
He seemed to stutter less and less these days. And even when he did stutter with Ava, it didn’t seem to discourage him from the way it did in the past, when he was in stressful social events. He was able to stutter over a word or two and then continue, without letting it overwhelm him the way it used to.
“I th-think he was saying if I was having a good d-day.” Luke smiled. “Now you try, Ava.”
Ava leaned forward, resting her elbows on her lap and looking Pudding very carefully in the eyes.
“Meow,” she said.
Pudding meowed back at her, and the three of them repeated the sound back and forth a few times.
“What is going on here?”
Luke stumbled to his feet, and Ava followed suit. Pudding didn’t budge an inch, instead moving to lick his paw as unhurriedly as if he did not have a single care in the world, which, considering he was a well-loved cat, he probably didn’t.
Christian stood above them, with an expression on his face that might have been a grimace of disapproval, or may have just been the result of squinting through the bright morning sunlight. Ava would have put her money on it being some combination thereof.
“G-good day, F-f-father.” Luke nodded.
This wasn’t uncommon. For all of Luke’s improvements with his stutter in the time since Ava had joined their household, she found it clear to observe that his stutter often returned around his father.
This, to his credit, she thought, didn’t seem to be from any cruelty on Christian’s part. Whatever her personal issueswith him, he was a caring father. He was often stiff and uncomfortable around Luke, but it seemed clear that he loved the boy very much. Luke never wanted for anything that could be provided with money, and even in his most stiff and awkward moments, he still tried to encourage the boy.
“Good day, Luke.” He nodded at Ava, but did not greet her by name.
She did not bother to correct him. In the times since that first kiss, he had pulled back to a degree that both relieved and offended her. On the one hand, it was a relief that she did not have to suffer through the awkward conversation that would surely ensue if she demanded to know why he had rejected her. But on the other hand, the rejection stung.
Whether Ava liked to admit it or not, she felt a powerful attraction towards her new husband. Even now, after their rocky first meeting and even rockier wedding night, even after he had kissed her and then immediately rejected her, she was still rendered near breathless by the sight of him.
He was so tall and so strong, with the muscles of his body pressing slightly but enough to show even through the several layers of his undergarments, shirts, and coats.
He was a little older than she—nearing his fourth decade, while she was but seven-and-twenty—but he carried those years with striking ease. His dark hair showed no trace of grey, thick and unruly enough to tempt her fingers. His eyes, a piercing blue,seemed always to catch and hold hers, even now, when a flicker of displeasure shadowed them.
Under that gaze, she felt herself soften, melt, as though every defense she might raise would dissolve before he even spoke.
“Good day, husband,” she said.
She marked the intake of breath he inhaled at the wordhusband, which immediately dispelled some of her lust and replaced it with anger and annoyance.
