Percy let out a laugh, low and thoroughly unapologetic. “Fondness? Ah, perhaps occasionally. Though I suspect his descriptions often carry more frustration than admiration.”
He did not bow, did not offer some grand gesture of greeting—only a grin that suggested he did not need pomp, only for amusement.
“I offer my sincerest congratulations,” he continued, swirling the drink in his hand absently. “Though I confess, I’m rather more interested in how you’re holding up. You appear rather… rosy.”
Blanche stiffened slightly, willing herself to ignore the warmth rising at the back of her neck.
“Surely you do not mean to imply I am nervous?” she countered, tilting her chin with measured confidence.
Percy’s eyes gleamed. “Nervous? Oh no, Your Grace. I imagine most women would be beside themselves at the prospect of entanglement with my dear friend. But you strike me as decidedly unshaken.”
Blanche exhaled, settling into the conversation with ease. “I do not fear the Duke, Your Grace. My choice was my own, and I believe I have conquered obstacles far more trying than the Duke of Woodrey.”
Intrigued, the man raised an eyebrow with evident amusement. “Indulge me, Your Grace, and let me know what sort of eventualities you have overcome that compare with my friend?”
Blanche tilted her head slightly, allowing the faintest smirk to play at the corner of her lips.
“I have survived far worse, Your Grace. A mother with a penchant for theatrics and three pugs who believe they are the rightful rulers of our household.”
Percy pressed a hand against his chest, feigning offense. “Are you implying that my best friend, whom I consider almost a brother, could be as unruly as a pug?”
“Not at all, Your Grace. I just want to make it clear that if I have managed that, I suspect the Duke of Woodrey shall prove a minor inconvenience.”
Blanche’s response seemed to surprise Percy, who threw his head back with a laugh, a genuine, unabashed sound that drew a few curious glances from nearby guests.
“Oh, I do like you,” he declared, grinning. “If ever there were a woman fit to endure Heath, I daresay it is you.”
Blanche merely offered a knowing smile, keeping her reply poised and unreadable.
Her gaze landed once more on Heath. He was insufferable, arrogant, and composed beyond reason. But he was also brilliant, endlessly capable, and possessed something she had yet to name—something that made her pulse quicken far more than it should.
A quiet thought slipped past her lips, unintended, spoken aloud just enough for Percy to hear.
“I am fortunate that he chose me.”
Percy stilled for half a breath, watching her. Then, with a slow tilt of his head, he murmured, “I cannot contradict you on that. Heath is fiercely protective of those who matter to him. He stood by my side in rather difficult times.”
Blanche’s gaze flickered back to Percy, catching the briefest shadow that passed over his otherwise lighthearted expression.
“And he has been remarkably kind to my family, in a time when it was truly needed,” added Blanche.
Percy exhaled softly, swirling his drink in measured contemplation. “Heath has always been that way. Fiercely protective when it comes to matters of family—or rather, what little remains of it.”
Blanche’s gaze flickered instinctively toward Heath once more, watching him. His posture was one of calm authority, a man entirely in control of his surroundings—his voice measured, his smile calculated, each exchange crafted with a precision that made him appear untouchable.
Yet, as if sensing the weight of her stare, Heath turned.
Their eyes met across the vast expanse of the ballroom, the hum of conversation fading into quiet insignificance as a tension—unspoken, undeniable—settled between them. It was fleeting, but potent.
Blanche felt the sudden race of her heartbeat, the inexplicable pull of wanting him closer, as though distance itself was a cruelty.
And then, impossibly, Heath seemed to feel it too.
She watched as his smile dimmed, replaced with something quieter—the faintest crease formed between his brows—a subtle recognition.
With deliberate ease, he turned back to his company, but not before making his last remarks, his voice carrying just enough weight to signal his departure.
“I have heard that he lost his parents nearly a decade ago,” Blanche murmured, her voice gentle with unspoken understanding. “I cannot imagine…” She hesitated, fingers brushing absently against the edge of her glass. “Losing them entirely.”
