Chapter 37
Aurelia blinked slowly.
That scent. Clean musk, faint leather, and something uniquely his.
That face, half-torn with torment, half-coated with beauty, leaning close as though he would crumble if he looked away.
Percival…
She thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her, that she was dreaming. The formidable duke who had pushed her away now looked as though he would fall apart if she slipped away again.
Her chest ached, and her throat tightened. She had missed him more than she dared to admit.
And in that fragile state, she wished, more than anything, that she could rise and throw herself into his arms. She wanted to bury her face against his chest and scold him all at once.
What took you so long? Why did it take danger to bring you back to me?
But she could not. Her body betrayed her with its weakness. Her pride could only whisper cruel reminders. He had only come because he had heard she was hurt. He had not come for her heart.
And yet, it was hard to get angry when his eyes bored into hers with such intensity and raw fear. When his hands curled so tightly around her fingers, as though letting go would burn him.
Their eyes met and held. At that moment, the air around them seemed to vanish. They both had a thousand words they wanted to speak. But for now, all they could manage was that stare.
Lady Scovell broke the fragile silence. She moved closer, her worry trumping decorum.
“How are you feeling, Aurelia? Does your head hurt still?” She pressed her palm to Aurelia’s forehead.
Aurelia swallowed, summoning all her strength to nod once. “I am… better.” Her voice was faint but steady.
A cruel memory flashed through her mind. One of struggling against rough hands. Of Nora’s muffled cry, and Hyacinth’s brave defiance. Of the moment Sir Edmund had shoved her back.
Fear rose in her chest, but she forced it down.
“Nora and Hyacinth have been worried about you, child,” Lord Scovell rumbled, interrupting her thoughts. “We shall let them know you are awake, and they may visit once you are strong enough.”
“Yes.” Lady Scovell nodded, trying for a smile, though her eyes were glassy. “They have been restless. They will be glad to see you smile again.”
Aurelia managed it then. Her lips curved slightly. Her smile was weary but genuine.
Her parents could not hide the relief on their faces, and even Percival seemed to relax at the sight of her smile.
Her eyes drifted back to him, and she whispered, “I am glad… to be all right.”
Then, with quiet courage, she turned back to her parents.
“May I?” Her voice was soft but sure, her eyes flickering briefly toward Percival. “Could you give us some time… alone?”
Lady Scovell’s lips parted in surprise, but she made no argument. If anything, she seemed glad.
Relief softened her strict features. “Of course, darling.”
Lord Scovell quickly came forward to kiss his daughter on the forehead and then followed his wife out of the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, silence reigned, broken only by the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece.
Aurelia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, then gently withdrew her hand. She crossed her arms, leaning back against the pillows. Her eyes darted away from Percival, cold in their dismissal.
It was back. The sting of rejection. The memory of him watching her walk away from him without a word. Without a plea for her to stay.
Now he wanted to talk?
“Why?” His voice broke the silence. It was rough, hoarse, as if he’d been holding back too much for far too long. “Why would you go there without guards? Without anyone? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”
She turned her head slowly toward him, disbelief flickering in her gaze. Was he being serious? He was actually accusing her.
“Why would you leave the house without an escort?” he pressed. “Were you not aware of the dangers? Aurelia, you could have—”
That was it.
She had had enough.
“You did not seem to care about any of those things when I was leaving, Percival.” She rolled her eyes.
The words landed like a blade straight through his chest.
He froze, blinking once. Her accusation stripped him bare. As if her voice had teeth and they had just sunk deep.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the shivers racking her body. But Percival, when he took a deep breath and looked at her again…
God, the look on his face.
He wasn’t fighting her. He wasn’t posturing or explaining. He was just… wrecked.
“You’re right,” he conceded with a sigh. “You’re right to be angry.”
Her heart stuttered at how easily the words left him. He wasn’t defending himself. He was surrendering.
“I should’ve stopped you,” he continued.
“I should’ve fought for you. But I was—” He swallowed, his voice cracking again.
“I was a coward. I thought if I kept my distance, it would protect you. Protect us both. But all I did was hurt you. I let you leave with your heart broken, and I didn’t come after you. ”
His eyes closed briefly, as though he were ashamed to speak the truth aloud.
“You were hurt because of me. All of this happened because of me.”
Aurelia wanted to keep silent. Wanted to let him suffer a little longer. Her pride demanded it.
But the way his broad shoulders hunched, the way his hands trembled as he tried to keep them steady, melted the armor she had so carefully wrapped around herself.
“I am fine,” she said softly. “The physician’s already seen to me. It’s only a bruise. I’ll be all right.”
But her words didn’t soothe him. His chest was still heaving, his hands still trembling.
She couldn’t stand it anymore. With effort, she sat up, ignoring the dull ache at the back of her skull, and leaned forward. And then, without a word, she wrapped her arms around him.
He froze with shock. For a brief moment, he did not move, as though he couldn’t quite believe she would show him such grace.
But then, slowly, his arms came around her, pulling her into him. Not roughly, not desperately, but carefully and achingly, as though she were made of glass.
And once he held her, he could not let go. He buried his face in her neck. His breath was warm and unsteady against her skin.
When he finally spoke, his words were muffled and raw. “I’m terrified, Aurelia,” he whispered. “I keep thinking, what if I’d been too late? What if you’d been taken from me and I never saw you again? I could never survive it.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her brow furrowed. “Why, Percival? Why do you always blame yourself?”
There was the question she had been meaning to ask him all this time.
His answer came in a whisper, as though torn from the deepest recesses of his soul. “Because I have hurt someone before.”
Her breath caught. Her hands fell from his shoulders, and her eyes searched his face. She didn’t know how to react to such a confession. She didn’t know what answer she had been expecting but this hadn’t been it.
He looked away, but she saw it. The shame. The way his gaze darkened with memory.
And then, in a shaky voice, he said a single name: “Madeline.”
The air left her lungs.
Aurelia knew that name. Everyone did.
The late Duchess of Whitmore. The one whose ghost still haunted every cold corridor of Whitmore Estate.
“I was young when my father arranged it.” His jaw clenched, but he forced himself to continue.
“A marriage with a woman I barely knew. My heart didn’t yearn for her.
Nonetheless, I thought I was doing my duty as a duke, as a son.
But she…” His voice cracked slightly. “She was in love with another. And I, fool that I was, did not see it until it was too late.”
He paused, closing his eyes as if trapped in memory.
“I gave her space because it was a loveless marriage. And she appreciated it because she felt the same way. We barely saw each other after our wedding night. I thought… I thought that was a kindness.”
Aurelia didn’t speak. Didn’t move. She just listened. Her hands slowly moved back to his shoulders.
“Before Lottie was born…” His voice lowered, heavy with sorrow. “I went to see her, and that was when I realized how wrong I had been. The moment I walked in, she turned from the window with tears in her eyes. She told me…”
He took a deep breath and pressed on, his voice hoarse. “She told me that everything was my fault. She told me that she hated me. That she wished she had never met me because I ruined her life. I took her away from her lover, and her lover had found someone new.”
Aurelia’s breath hitched softly. She could already guess what had happened next.
“And then,” Percival whispered, his eyes distant, “she died birthing Lottie. But even before then, she was clearly unhappy forced into the match she didn’t want.”
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
That fear, that past that had haunted him for ten years, he had finally revealed it. Not as the Duke of Whitmore, but as Percival, a victim of his father’s choices.
It made Aurelia’s heart ache. It thundered, like a storm behind her ribs.
She could only stare at him. Though her lips parted, she could only manage shallow breaths.
It was a painful realization that the distance in his gaze, the way he always unclenched her fists, the way he avoided his first wife’s portrait, was caused by what had happened ten years ago.
The pieces finally clicked into place.
This is why he keeps his distance. This is why he fears love. This is why he fears me.
For the first time, she saw him. Not as the untouchable duke the world feared, but as a man. A broken, haunted, wary man.
He turned his face away, his jaw tight, as if even now he couldn’t bear to be seen in such a vulnerable state.
“This is why I can’t give you a child,” he whispered.
Aurelia’s heart lurched.
“I’ve thought about it every night since you left,” he admitted. “What if you hate me one day? What if childbirth takes you from me, and I’m left holding the pieces? What if I watch it all fall apart again and I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I wouldn’t survive it, Aurelia. Not again.”
She had never seen him like this. So emotional. So lost. So desperately, nakedly human.
Tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them.
He still wouldn’t look at her. His hands were clenched, white-knuckled, like he was bracing for her silence. Her anger. Her rejection.
But she gave neither. Because at that moment, she realized that something else mattered more than heirs, more than duty, more than appearances.
It was him. His heart. His pain.
She leaned toward him, slow and deliberate. Then, she took his hands in hers. They were trembling.
“Percival…” she said softly. “You’ve carried this burden alone for far too long.”
His eyes finally met hers, dark with despair. As if he didn’t believe she was still there. That she hadn’t run from the monster he was.
She laced her fingers through his. “You stayed with her the only way you knew how. None of what happened was your fault. But this isn’t her story anymore. This is our story.”
He looked like he might break down all over again.
She pressed his hand to her chest, right over her heart. “You don’t have to protect me from love,” she murmured. “Or from life. I want to live it with you—even the terrifying, messy, imperfect parts.”
He let out a sharp, choked breath, and then he moved with the helplessness of a man who had just found air after almost drowning.
His hands cradled her face. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.
“Neither do I,” she breathed shakily. “But I want to learn with you. I thought the only way to be happy was to do all the right things. But none of it matters. Not the heirs. Not the titles. Not the duties. Not if I don’t have you. I only want you. You and our family.”
His eyes closed, and a rare thing happened. A tear slipped free, one he had fought so hard to hold back.
Aurelia couldn’t bear it anymore. She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was slow and tender. Percival squeezed his eyes, as though afraid the moment would vanish if he breathed too deeply. And then, slowly, he kissed her back.
She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. Her hands held him as though to steady his soul. His broken soul.
Eventually, the kiss deepened. Their lips moved against each other desperately, as if they were memorizing each other after a long time apart.
His hands slid to her waist, pulling her gently against him. She followed him without hesitation until the space between them vanished.
He kissed her like she was the air he breathed. Like she was the one thing holding him together. And she kissed him back like she had finally stopped running.
When he pulled back at last, his forehead pressed against hers. Both of them were shaking.
“Aurelia…” His voice was low and rough. “I love you. With every breath, with every heartbeat, I love you. And I will never let go again.”
She froze.
For a heartbeat, she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
The words hung between them, like something fragile and sacred. She had dreamed of them, ached for them, waited for them, and yet never truly believed he would ever say them.
Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Her heart fluttered in her chest.
Then, the tears came. They weren’t slow and delicate; they were sharp and sudden. As if they had been pulled from her very core.
“You…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You love me?”
She needed to hear it again. A part of her still couldn’t believe it.
Percival nodded, squeezing her hands.
She let out a laugh, which turned into a half-sob. For a moment, she wasn’t even sure of what to do. Her hands covered her trembling lips. The emotions coursing through her were too much. Relief, shock, joy, all at once.
“I waited…” she croaked. “I waited so long for you to stop running. To just… see me. Want me. Let yourself love me.”
His hand moved to her cheek, wiping away a tear.
“And now you do,” she whispered, finally smiling through her tears. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you from the very moment I laid my eyes on you.”
Percival smiled back. Too vulnerable to speak any more, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her as though the world could never pry them apart again.
And this time, he had no intention of letting go.