Page 77 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
The library was as grand as Minerva remembered, its high shelves packed with leather-bound tomes, the air faintly perfumed with the scent of parchment and aged wood. Cassandra gestured for Minerva to step inside, then paused, her lips quirking upward.
“Oh, how clumsy of me,” Cassandra said, her hand flying to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “I forgot! Aiden is waiting for me to review our correspondence. Please, make yourself comfortable. I will return shortly.”
Before Minerva could reply, Cassandra slipped out of the room, her skirts swishing behind her. Minerva shook her head, bemused by her friend’s theatrics, and wandered toward a row of bookshelves. Her fingers trailed over the spines as she read the titles, losing herself in the comforting quiet of the room.
A faint creak outside the door pulled Minerva from her thoughts. She froze, her hand hovering over a particularly worn book, her ears straining for any further sound. Was Cassandra returning? Or perhaps one of the servants?
But the door remained closed, and the silence stretched just long enough to set her heart racing. She shook her head, chastising herself for letting her imagination run wild. It was just a library, after all—a peaceful space meant for quiet reflection.
The sound of the door clicking open startled her, and she turned to see Evan standing there, his expression caught between amusement and suspicion.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, stepping into the room and letting the door fall shut behind him. “Should I be concerned that you’re plotting something with our hostess?”
Minerva laughed softly, shaking her head. “It seems Cassandra was the one plotting. She made some excuse about correspondence and left me here.”
Evan leaned casually against a nearby shelf, his arms crossed. “How convenient,” he said, his tone laced with teasing. “Do you suppose she and Aiden have conspired to leave us alone?”
Minerva’s cheeks warmed, and she turned back to the books, refusing to let him see the full effect of his words. “Don’t be ridiculous. They would never?—”
“Would they not?” he interrupted, his voice low and teasing. He stepped closer, the sound of his boots soft against the carpet. “It would not be the first time someone tried to orchestrate a moment between us.”
Minerva glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips twitching with an involuntary smile. “You’re impossible.”
“And you are predictable, my lady,” he countered with a grin. “For instance, I predict that if I were to suggest we find our way to a certain little supply closet, you’d pretend to be scandalized.”
Minerva whirled to face him, her eyes narrowing in mock outrage. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Evan raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Wouldn’t I?”
Her heart raced as she held his gaze, the memory of that night—their hurried breaths, the charged silence—surging back to her. “It would be completely inappropriate,” she said, though her voice lacked the conviction she intended. “This is Cassandra and Aiden’s home, and?—”
“And?” he prompted, stepping closer still, the warmth of his presence making her pulse quicken. “And it would remind you that some things are worth breaking the rules for?”
Minerva opened her mouth to protest but found herself speechless as he reached out, his fingers brushing hers. His touch was light, teasing, and it sent a thrill through her she couldn’t deny.
“I—” she started, her words faltering as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur.
“No one’s stopping you, Minerva,” he said, his breath brushing her cheek. “If it is too ridiculous, you can stay right here. Or you can trust me.”
Her breath hitched, and for a long moment, she battled with herself. Then, with a huff of exasperation, she rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
Evan’s grin was victorious, his eyes bright with mischief. “And yet, here you are.”
Before she could change her mind, he offered her his hand, his gaze steady and full of promise. Minerva hesitated only for a moment before placing her hand in his. She glanced around nervously, half expecting Cassandra or Aiden to catch them, but the house remained quiet, save for the faint hum of distant conversation from the dining room.
She allowed herself to be gently guided into the small, cramped supply closet. The scent of lavender and wood polish filled the air, and the dim light filtering in through the cracked door was just enough to illuminate their faces.
Evan shut the door behind them, the tiny space forcing them closer together. “See?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Cozy.”
Minerva huffed, though she couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at her lips. “You are utterly incorrigible.”
Evan leaned in, his expression softening. “And yet, you’re here.”
For a moment, they simply stood there, the air between them thick with tension and unspoken emotion. Then, slowly, Evan reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering as his fingers trailed down her cheek. His gaze met hers, full of warmth and vulnerability.
Minerva’s breath caught as Evan reached for her hand, his touch warm and grounding. The velvet box in his other hand seemed impossibly small for what it represented, its fabric worn but carefully preserved.
“Minerva,” he began, his voice steady despite the raw emotion behind it. “You have challenged me in ways I never expected. You have made me want to be better—not for society, not for appearances, but for you.”
