Chapter Twelve
Duke had never before played a game of “move all” with someone as young as the Marlows’ little girl. None of the families who lived near Writtlestone ever spent time there—at least not twice—and he hadn’t any siblings or any cousins younger than he was, so his opportunities to interact with children had been very limited. He found it an unexpected relief to discover he was not entirely horrible at it.
When the time came for running from one chair to another in an attempt to reach it before anyone else claimed it—the entire substance of the game—the sweet child would giggle as her tiny legs moved as quickly as they could. Duke, taking his cues from her parents, would run past a chair or attempt to sit in it and land on the floor instead. Little Sophia would laugh so much she could hardly continue the game. And as she had four adults happily indulging her with repeated failed attempts at sitting, she never seemed to stop laughing.
Nia proved particularly good with the little girl, likely the result of having grown up with siblings younger than herself. But she was also the first to be eliminated each time they began anew, not only failing to reach a chair before Sophia but also proving slower than all the adults as well. Perhaps that was part of her strategy: quickly place oneself in the position of onlooker and joyful encourager.
The game had been ongoing for nearly thirty minutes when one of Duke’s intentionally poor attempts at claiming a chair left him sprawled on the floor and the chair he’d been aiming for toppled. He’d miscalculated a bit.
Little Sophia rushed over to him, concern on her sweet face. “Are you hurt?”
“No, sweeting. I’m not hurt.”
She gave him a hug, though her small arms didn’t come close to encircling him. And she leaned her cheek against his chest.
Duke wrapped his arms around her. “Do your parents hug you when you’re hurt?”
“Yes, to make the hurt feel better.”
“It works like a miracle, Sophia,” he said.
Across the large public room, Duke spied Eve peeking out from behind the slightly ajar kitchen door. It was a shame she’d spent so much of their time at this inn isolated in the kitchen. He understood her difficulty, but he still wished she could have enjoyed the lighter moments they’d had. He wished she’d been with them more. With him more.
And though he was touched by Sophia’s sweet little hug, he longed for another embrace from Eve.
Mrs. Marlow scooped up her daughter. “I think it’s time for bed, dear. Your eyelids are growing heavy.”
Sophia objected but halfheartedly. She wanted to keep playing but was quite obviously sleepy.
“We’ll help you put everything to rights in the morning before we all depart,” Mr. Marlow said to Duke and Nia. They’d received word that the bridge had been deemed crossable. “And thank you both for all you’ve done. We would have been in dire straits without you.”
Thank you both. Eve had told no one about her baking abilities beyond her family, himself, and one other unnamed person. That likely meant she was seldom thanked or complimented for her offerings. She was being denied that again.
“Our pleasure,” Nia said. “I hope the remainder of your journey is less eventful than this bit.”
“We will wish you the same,” Mr. Marlow said.
“And we’re sorry to have not met your grandmother,” Mrs. Marlow said to Duke. “I hope she is feeling well enough to travel in the morning.”
They’d told the Marlows that Grandmother was feeling poorly rather than inform them that she remained in her room because she felt that keeping company with the young family would constitute an indignity.
The Marlows made their way up the stairs.
“I’m meaning to go offer Eve a good night,” Nia said.
Duke nodded. Though he knew the Marlows would keep to their word and help him straighten up the inn before setting off in the morning, he still set himself to the task of returning tables and chairs to where they’d been before they’d arranged them to accommodate the game of move all. Everyone would want an early start. Doing this now would save them time in the morning.
He’d nearly finished when Nia slipped back out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Duke put the last chair back in its place, then crossed to the kitchen himself. If Eve had already retired to her bedchamber, then he’d go upstairs and settle in for the night. Then he would, no doubt, lie there for hours thinking about her, just as he’d done the night before.
She was still in the kitchen doing her utmost to slip a pot onto a shelf the tiniest bit out of reach.
“I can put that up for you,” he said.
She looked over at him. “I would appreciate that. Nia was absolutely no help, she being no taller than I am.”
He put the pot easily in its place. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Eve shook her head, but her expression was uneasy. “Do you think anyone other than you saw me peeking from the kitchen? The wee girl’s giggles were so sweet that I couldn’t resist seeing what had brought them on. I oughtn’t to have looked. ’Twas too much of a risk.”
“I don’t think anyone else saw you.”
Her sigh of relief was anything but feigned. She took up the broom and began sweeping.
“The Marlows expressed their gratitude for all that’s been done while we’ve been here. I’m extending their thanks to you.”
“It has been a lot of work.” She continued her sweeping. “But it’s also been nice, truth be told. I’ve relished the challenge of creating things with only what’s on hand here.”
“A challenge you have excelled at,” he said.
She looked at him as she continued her sweeping. “I will bake wonderful things at Tulleyloch while you are gallivanting about London. Remind yourself of that once in a while, in case you’re tempted to enjoy yourself too much while I’m not there.”
“I wish I knew how to fix this so you could be gallivanting as well.”
Eve set her broom against the wall. “Not everything can be fixed, Duke.” She walked toward him. “And even those things that can aren’t necessarily your responsibility to mend.”
He smiled a little. “You’ve told me that a few times these past days.”
She took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. “I’ll keep telling you until you believe it.”
“I am attempting to,” he said. “But escaping the role of family negotiator will require turning the cannons on my family, and I’m not looking forward to it.”
“You talk as though you have already lined those cannons up.”
Duke hadn’t shared his plans with anyone. Even the Pack didn’t know the extent of his difficulties.
“Let me begin by plainly stating that my situation pales in comparison to yours.”
She waved that off.
“And I further need to acknowledge that the complaining I have done has likely given you an unflattering view of my parents. Life with them is not entirely miserable. When I see them for brief intervals, we get along well. If I am to keep thinking well of them, I cannot be with them all the time. I realize that likely makes me a terrible son.”
Eve shook her head. “There is a reason for the universality of the sentiment ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ Some people require fond absences.”
There was a lot of truth in that.
“So, are you planning to run away from home?” she asked.
“Essentially. I’m not a pauper, by any means. But my income from my father’s estate was never meant to be sufficient for obtaining a home away from Writtlestone. So I am going to ask my aunt and uncle if I can make my home with them at Fairfield.” He dropped his gaze to their hands, buoyed by the simple touch. “My grandmother will consider me to have chosen sides, which will make me an enemy to her since she aligns herself with and opposes both ‘sides,’ as it suits her needs. And my parents will see this as a betrayal, which has always been at the heart of what they are angry with my aunt about.”
“Why stay with your aunt and uncle, specifically, if it will cause such complications?” There was no accusation or dismissal in the question but rather a caring concern.
For the first time since formulating this strategy, Duke felt a little less alone in it. “Asking to be granted indefinite houseroom from anyone other than family would be inexcusable. And my parents would likely make themselves a nuisance at the home of any friend who took pity on me. I would be subjecting people to the very troubles I am attempting to escape.”
“But will you be happy?”
He looked up at her once more. “Fairfield is a much more peaceful place than Writtlestone. I’ll be able to breathe again.”
Eve pulled her hands free of his, and his heart dropped. But almost before he could register the loss, she set her hands gently on either side of his face. “But will you be happy?”
“At Fairfield, happiness will finally feel possible.”
The light touch of her hands on his face did odd things to him. His pulse pounded and raced, which he could have predicted, but he also felt calm and his thoughts quieted.
Her hands dropped to his chest. “You give so much of yourself to helping others, to securing their happiness. You deserve happiness as well.”
“That is why my uncle Niles said he went into politics: to help people.” He set a hand over one of hers.
She moved a little closer. “You ought to consider following in his footsteps.”
“There are a great many obstacles.” With his free hand, he brushed a strand of her hair away from her eyes.
“There usually are.”
He swallowed. “And complications.”
Her gaze affixed to his, she nodded silently.
Duke bent a little closer, the two of them so close that there was no need to speak louder than a whisper. “Things don’t always work out the way we hope.”
“There’s no hope if a person doesn’t at least try.”
Her silver eyes, so stunning when she laughed, were warm and deep and watching him in a way that pulled him ever closer. Achingly close.
“Aoife,” he whispered.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. It was an invitation he didn’t ignore. He wrapped his arms around her and stopped pretending her lips didn’t tempt him more every time he was with her. He kissed her, slowly and softly. The charge that had swirled in the air the past days rippled around them. And his heart echoed with the pulse of a brewing storm.
The sudden sound of a tree branch blown against a window startled them both. The tension between them didn’t abate. She watched him. He watched her. But he wasn’t certain either of them breathed.
Her cheeks were a little flushed, but he saw no regret or disapproval in her expression. In fact, he was almost certain a smile tugged at her lips as she returned to her sweeping. He didn’t hold back an answering smile of his own.
Neither said much after that but set to cleaning the kitchen. They eventually settled once more into the lighthearted conversation they most often indulged in. There was no true discomfort between them, but he suspected she wasn’t any more ready than he was to dissect what had happened and what it meant.
With her domain set to rights, Eve offered a thank-you before stepping into the room she’d been using and closing the door.
And Duke stood alone in this room where he’d well and truly fallen for her, realizing how complicated things had just become. His was a future that would be spent either as a perpetual guest in someone’s home or as a man unable to escape the difficulties of his parents’ house. He was inextricably tied to a family at war with itself. He knew all too well the battle scars that caused.
He knew he needed to proceed with more than mere caution. He needed to maintain enough emotional space not to overly entwine his heart with hers. But that heart pleaded with him not to push her away.