Page 53 of A Duke in Her Fate
“Very well. Good night, your grace,” she whispered and took her leave.
Watching after her, Hobbes waited until she was gone to tell him, “Well done, my boy. She’s a very fine lady, I say.”
“After only a minute of meeting her?” Ronan asked in amusement while shucking his coat.
The man tapped his nose. “I always know. What I am not understanding, however, is why she doesn’t look happier. The same goes for you as well. I should think your wedding day a joyful one, yes?”
“Satisfactory,” he corrected him. “The plan has worked out as I needed it to. That is all. As long as she is good to Oliver, that is all I ask of her.”
Hobbes blinked. “That is all?”
“Not your business,” Ronan pointed out before taking a candle. “Put the household to bed, would you? Thank you for not bringing everyone out. We’ll take the usual breakfast in the morning, if you please. Good night, Hobbes.”
Behind him, the old man harrumphed. But before he disappeared down the hall, Ronan could hear him mutter, “Do sleep well, your grace.”
Sleep well he did. Ronan was glad to be back in his usual bed.
And back in his regular routine. He could manage his accounts and estates as needed, also attending to his tenants. There were his morning rides and conversations with Hobbes. Now, he was ready to return to the usual life that he had sorted together after his world had fallen apart.
The only change was Isla, which… was going well, if unprecedented.
Everything was a little louder with a duchess under the roof. She had gently established order and won over the staff without complaint. Often he could hear her talking to them, asking questions, or even laughing alongside them.
She too established herself with the tenants, making deliveries of small gifts to them, and befriending the local vicar and his large family. Then she was also there for Oliver.
Just as I planned.
It wasn’t that Ronan avoided them, he told himself, merely that he was busy. So it was rare to come across either his wife or the child. Until one afternoon, perhaps a week or so after the wedding, when he encountered them together kneeling beside a table in the parlor with pastries beside them.
He paused in the shadow of the door to watch them interact.
Noisy, they were, and so very bright it made his eyes hurt. He watched them curiously. Questions filled his mind but hecouldn’t bring himself to ask. He was simply a fly on the wall. He didn’t belong there.
Something was going on with them as they played with their food. A loud giggle erupted from Oliver’s beaming face as Isla dramatically pouted when he won their game.
Does the game even have rules?
He couldn’t take his eyes off them. Mostly Isla. She frequently smiled or frowned when they were together. But now she owned so many more expressions. Sometimes she scrunched up her nose or crossed her eyes. She snickered and pouted and stuck out her tongue, all to the boy’s amusement.
“You did it!” She clapped softly before nudging over half a macaroon. “Very well, the last one is yours. This one must be lemon, yes?”
“No, orange!” Oliver laughed before stuffing it all in his mouth. It was hardly appropriate manners. Ronan felt the need to correct him on the tip of his tongue. He bit it instead. “Yup, orange!”
“What? How could it taste like orange?” Isla’s eyes widened dramatically.
He giggled more and showed her a crumb. “Orange color!”
“Oh, you are right. What a clever lad you are. The treat was the color orange, so it must have tasted like an orange,” Isla allowed. “You have good eyes, Oliver. You see so much. Did you see it was the last of our macaroons? I suppose we should tidy up and let the staff know we are finished. Would you like to pull the service bell?”
“Yes! Please!” He still couldn’t sort out that R sound.
Oliver jumped to his feet, his curls bouncing and wearing the widest smile Ronan had ever seen on his face. The boy was happy with the house and the servants and Anne. But right then, he looked so utterly delighted. It made Ronan’s heart pound in a way that he didn’t understand. The two of them were so happy together it was like he wasn’t needed; maybe he never had been.
I shouldn’t be here.
Looking at the lad with warmth in her eyes, Isla stood as well. “Very good. To the corner we go, Oliver!” And when she glanced toward the doorway, feeling like they might not be alone, she found no one there.
Ronan knew he didn’t belong there and took his leave.
