Page 49 of A Tempting Maid for the Beastly Duke
“In the garden?” she smiled back.
“Yes,” he wrapped her arms around her waist, gently swaying them to the noiseless sounds of the music only the two of them could hear. “We could go for a nice, long walk, without any interruptions. How does that sound?”
She knew what he had in mind, some time alone.
“That sounds delightful, Your Grace,” she teased.
“You know how I love it when you say that,” he murmured against her lips, gently nipping her lower lip before bestowing a tender kiss on the exact same spot. The act inflamed her more than she was willing to admit. When he released her from his grip, she mourned the touch of his hands on her waist, the feel of his lips on hers.
“In the garden then, don’t be late, my dear,” she heard him say one more time as he lingered in the doorway, closing the door behind him as he left.
Chapter 28
Rose was left alone in the grand study, her heart still beating wildly. She realized only now that William had left so abruptly, that she wanted to address all the questions she had for him. And they all revolved around one thing: their future together.
Being the duke, one whose life had only recently been turned upside down, she knew that he had obligations and expectations that loomed over their relationship like a cloud that refused to allow sunshine to fully greet them with its rays. She realized that she wanted clarity.
She wanted to know how they would go about their lives together, because she could feel the intensity of their feelings. She yearned to have that conversation, the one that would bring clarity to the path ahead.
Instead, their time together always seemed to take an unexpected turn. She was still employed in his mansion, as per her own wishes. But every time they were alone together, one moment blended into the next, their emotions taking control as they were swept away by the sheer desire they both felt for each other. The words she wanted to say would somehow remain unspoken, drowned out by the silence that now filled William’s study.
Rose’s fingers brushed over the surface of the desk where William had been sitting. She could still feel the warmth of his presence, the echo of his voice in her ears. Her mind replayed the moments they had shared, searching for signs, for clues about what he was thinking. Did he share her concerns about their future? Did he, too, feel the pressure of their unspoken plans?
With a heavy sigh, Rose turned and exited the study, her thoughts still tangled with what had transpired—or rather, what had not. She felt the weight of unresolved issues pressing on her heart, but decided to distract herself, if only for a moment. Her aunt had finished the new curtains yesterday, the ones for the drawing room, and she immediately brought them over to be put up. She worked tirelessly to finish them, to prove to William that she was worth his trust. Now, she was working on the second set, for the library, and then all the rest. Rose had been eager to see the finished work and how they would fit into the drawing room.
Walking through the elegantly decorated corridors of the manor, Rose let her fingers brush lightly against the cool, smooth surfaces of the walls. The familiarity of the place brought her some comfort. She reached the drawing room, a favorite spot of hers for its light and airy feel, enhanced by large windows that invited the outside in.
As she stepped into the drawing room, Rose’s gaze immediately fell upon the new curtains. They were a soft, shimmering shade of blue, perfectly complementing the room’s décor. Heraunt's skill was evident in the intricate patterns embroidered along the edges, a delicate touch that added elegance without overpowering the space.
As she admired the curtains, Rose allowed her mind to wander. The simplicity of the moment provided a stark contrast to the complexity of her thoughts about William. Here, in this room filled with her aunt’s love and care, she found a brief respite from her worries.
Suddenly, she was startled by a gentle clearing of the throat behind her. She turned around to lock gazes with Mr. Hancock standing in the doorway. He had the look that he always wore, a look that didn’t allow her to see beyond the confines of his face. He was not smiling. He was not frowning. He was not doing anything. But his eyes saw everything. His eyes knew. She felt as if the man had some superhuman powers, to know exactly where he needed to be, and to reach that point as swiftly as possible. But that was, of course, preposterous.
“Miss Rose,” he began with a nod, gesturing at the curtains. “I see that Mrs. Roberts has done quite a job with the curtains.”
Quite a job? Her mind echoed Mr. Hancock’s words. Knowing him, she couldn’t immediately tell if he meant it as a compliment or not. It could have been anything with him. But then, he added. “They really make the space look livelier.”
Ah, a compliment. She smiled to herself. She had to admit that it took her off guard. She wasn’t expecting it, especially not a compliment for her aunt’s work, who was yet another person from the village, of whom he wanted as few as possible in the manor house. But something had changed. She couldn’t quite say what. She didn’t dare talk to him about it. Still, she could smile at him in response.
“I am very glad you think so, Mr. Hancock,” she replied. “My aunt has really done her best with them. They are beautiful… at least, I think they are.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, much to her surprise. He proceeded to step further into the room to take a closer look. “She is a fine seamstress. The craftsmanship is impeccable.”
“She does have a special touch,” Rose spoke from the heart, meaning every single word of it. “Every time she mends something or creates something, she sews in a bit of herself into it, I think.”
He smiled, not saying anything to that. He didn’t need to. That smile spoke more than his words ever could. It was a smile she had never seen before, and she could sense that something had shifted between them as well. The truth was, they hadn’t spoken privately since that day by the waterfall, but she had intended to do that as well. Yet, days slipped through her fingers like fine grains of sand, and now, she realized that the moment hadfinally come. It seemed that Mr. Hancock felt the same, because he was the one to speak first.
“Uhm, Miss Rose,” he began, his voice unusually tentative, “if I may, there is something I wish to say.”
Rose tilted her head slightly, curiosity piqued. “Of course, Mr. Hancock. What is it?”
He took a deep breath. Whatever he endeavored to say, it was obviously very difficult to do so, and she didn’t wish to push him in any way. She allowed him to gather his thoughts so he could convey them in the most appropriate manner. Finally, when he spoke, his eyes met hers with a sincerity that took her completely by surprise.
“I wish to apologize,” he said, looking at her straight in the eyes, not looking away even for a single moment, which only proved how adamant he was to express his regret.
“What for?” she asked. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I also haven’t done anything right, from the moment you came here,” he corrected her.
