The corridors of Ironford were a blur of shadows and judging portraits. Her breath came in short, jagged gasps that burned her throat. She burst into her bedroom and slammed the door, the sound echoing through the hollow silence of the house.
She leaned back against the wood, her palms flat against the cold grain, her heart trying to kick its way out of her chest. Her skin was on fire where he had touched her. Her thoughts tangled around his name, his scent, and the humiliating truth that she still wanted him, even when he used his own self-loathing like a blade.
She looked at her bed—wide, cold, and empty—and pressed her shaking hands to her flaming cheeks.
She was the Duchess of Ironford, mistress of every room in this house, and yet she had never felt more shut out of her own life.
Chapter Fifteen
“M-may we go as f-far as the orchard?”
Emmeline looked down at Aaron at once. He was not looking directly at her, but at the path ahead, his small fingers tight around the wooden horse.
“The orchard?” she asked gently.
He nodded, still watching the path. “There is a p-pear t-tree there.”
“A pear tree,” she repeated, making her voice thoughtful. “That sounds important.”
“It is n-not only a p-pear tree,” he said quickly, then caught himself and glanced up at her, as if he feared he had spoken too boldly. “It is… it is a f-fortress.”
Emmeline stopped walking because such news clearly deserved her full attention. “A fortress?”
His eyes lifted to hers properly now. “The b-branches m-make walls. And t-t-there is a p-place inside where one can s-sit.”
“I see,” she said, lowering her voice. “Then it is a secret fortress.”
Aaron’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”
“And you have been keeping this from me?”
His cheeks colored faintly. “I d-did n-not know if you would want t-to see it.”
“I must see it now.” Emmeline kept her expression warm. “Lead the way, dear.”
Aaron smiled properly then, and the sight went through her with such tenderness that for a moment she could not speak. He was still uncertain. But around her, his words were beginning to find their way out.
Behind them, Miss Harrow walked in composed silence. Emmeline felt the governess watching, and for once, she thought the woman’s watchfulness held relief rather than warning.
She wondered, unwillingly, what Rowan would make of it. Whether he would see that Aaron was not being indulged, butcoaxed gently out of fear. The thought of him pulled at the bruise he had left behind.
It had been two days since she had left Rowan’s study, burning with humiliation and want. Two days since he had touched her face, since she had called him a coward and watched him become stone again.
Since then, they had been painfully civil.
At breakfast, he asked if her rooms were comfortable. She said they were. At dinner, he asked after her father. She answered. He watched her when he thought she did not notice, and she pretended not to feel it.
She forced her attention back to Aaron.
“And what is Comet’s role in this fortress?” she asked.
“He g-guards it,” Aaron said. “But only f-from the inside.”
“A sensible horse.”
Aaron stopped walking, frozen in place. His little hand tightened around the wooden horse. His face had gone pale, his eyes fixed ahead.
Emmeline noticed the sound then, soft and moving beneath the trees. Water. A river nearby, glinting silver through the branches.
