Page 48 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
Her father’s gaze softened even more as he looked at her. “Minerva, you have done so much for your sister, but you also deserve to find happiness for yourself. Have you thought about what you truly want? What makes you happy?”
Minerva hesitated, unsure of how to answer. What did she want? For so long, she had pushed her own desires aside, convinced that her role was to protect her family. But now, standing here with her father’s gentle encouragement, she felt the stirrings of something deeper—something she had not allowed herself to acknowledge before.
“I do not know,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I do not know what I want anymore.”
Her father gave her a kind smile, his eyes full of understanding. “That is all right. You have time to figure it out. But do not forget, Minerva... you deserve to live your life, too.”
Minerva nodded, her heart heavy with her father’s words. She had spent so long focused on keeping everything in control, on protecting Chastity from the world, that she had forgotten to think about her own happiness. And now, standing here, she realized that maybe, just maybe, it was time to start thinking about herself.
Lord Bellington placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip gentle but reassuring. “Give her time. She’ll come around.”
There was a long pause as Minerva absorbed his words, feeling both overwhelmed and comforted at the same time.
“I miss her,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Mother... she always seemed to know what to do.”
Her father nodded, his own eyes misting with the memory. “She would be proud of you, Minerva,” he said quietly. “You have done so much for this family. But now it is time for you to live your own life, to find your own happiness.”
Minerva swallowed hard, her throat tight as she met his gaze. “Thank you, Father.”
Lord Bellington gave her a gentle smile, his eyes filled with quiet pride. “You’ll figure it out, my dear. Just don’t be afraid to let go.”
Minerva nodded, her heart heavy but grateful for his words. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a longwhile, she allowed herself to wonder what her own happiness might look like.
And as she stood there, alone in the quiet house, Minerva realized that perhaps it was time to start thinking about herself—for once.
Nineteen
Mrs. Wilkes leaned in slightly, her voice lowered but still carrying an unmistakable tone of concern. “My lady, forgive me for saying so, but... are you quite sure this is wise?” She glanced around at the elegant surroundings, her brow furrowed. “Visiting the Duke of Colburn in his home—unannounced, no less—it might raise a few eyebrows.”
Minerva stood on the front steps of Colburn House, her gloved hands clutching the handle of her reticule tightly. The grand mansion loomed before her, its imposing columns and elegantly carved stonework a stark reminder of the man she was about to face. She drew in a breath, her heart pounding as she wondered, not for the first time, if coming here had been a mistake. But it was too late to turn back now.
Minerva paused, her own nerves already frayed. She knew Mrs. Hughes was only doing her duty, but the reminder of propriety was one she did not need. Still, she offered the woman a tight but reassuring smile.
“I understand your concerns, Mrs. Hughes,” she replied softly. “But this matter is... urgent. I would not be here if it were not.”
Mrs. Wilkes hesitated, her fingers still worrying the edge of her shawl. “I know you mean well, my lady, but the Duke—his reputation, as you know...”
Minerva’s expression hardened slightly, though she kept her voice calm. “I am well aware of the Duke’s reputation,” she said.
The heavy door opened, and a footman bowed, gesturing for Minerva and her chaperone, to enter. Minerva stepped inside, surprised by the warmth of the space. She had expected something dark and shadowy, befitting a notorious rake’s residence, but the entryway was flooded with light, the walls painted in soft, welcoming hues. Tall windows allowed the afternoon sunlight to stream in, illuminating the marble floors and ornate furnishings. Everything felt elegant, refined, and altogether unexpected.
The butler approached, bowing formally. “His Grace will receive you in the study,” he announced, leading the way with practiced precision. Minerva followed, her stomach twisting with nerves, while Mrs. Hughes trailed behind, her expression impassive but her eyes sharp.
The study was as inviting as the rest of the house, lined with bookshelves that seemed to invite exploration and wide windows that framed the lush gardens outside. But Minerva hardly noticed any of it. Her attention was fixed on the man standing behind the large mahogany desk, a stack of papersscattered before him. Evan looked up, his dark hair slightly tousled, his mouth curving into a familiar, teasing smile.
“Lady Minerva,” he drawled, moving around the desk with a kind of effortless grace that only made her heart beat faster. “What a delightful and unexpected pleasure. Have you come to berate me again, or is this visit purely social?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, but his eyebrows drew together in curiosity.
Her resolve nearly wavered at that smile, but she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. “Your Grace,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I hope I am not intruding.”
He tilted his head, his gaze assessing. “Not at all,” he replied smoothly, though she detected a note of genuine surprise. Evan folded his arms over his chest, his teasing smile widening as he studied Minerva. “Don’t tell me,” he began, his voice a playful lilt, “you have finally decided that resisting my charms is a waste of energy, and you have come to surrender to my inevitable allure?”
Minerva let out a frustrated breath, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, please,” she snapped, but the light pink rising in her cheeks betrayed her irritation. “This matter concerns not you, nor your insufferable conceit..”
He straightened, one eyebrow lifting, clearly delighting in her annoyance. “Ah, but you see, every time you storm into a room looking as though you wish to throttle me, I cannot help but think you’re simply fighting your affection with all the fervor of a martyr. Am I right?”
Minerva felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, heat rising in her cheeks. She was acutely aware of her chaperone, Mrs. Dorset, standing a few paces behind her, witnessing this entire exchange. Mrs. Dorset’s brow was delicately arched, her lips pressed into a thin, restrained line, though her eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of judgment. The woman had always prided herself on maintaining an air of stoic propriety, but even she couldn’t quite hide her disapproval at Evan’s flirtatious behavior.
Minerva glanced nervously at her chaperone before looking back at Evan, her voice growing more clipped. “I would appreciate it,” she said, struggling to keep her dignity intact, “if you did not make light of this in front of Mrs. Dorset. She is here to ensure my reputation remains... intact.”
