The Duke's Bed Warmer

Chapter 97: Lord Ashby!??

The next afternoon, Alina went to the east wing through the servant’s passage alone. Austin had a meeting and was coming later. She unlocked the door with the key Austin had given her and stepped inside.

Cecily was at the piano, playing a soft melody she had been practicing for weeks. The notes started strong at first but stumbled at the same difficult part. She stopped when the door opened and turned.

"You’re early."

"Marguerite sent me away," Alina said, setting down a small basket of honeycakes. "She said I was distracted and should take a break."

Cecily scooted to the side and patted the space beside her.

"Sit. I’ll teach you."

"Teach me?" Alina raised her brow.

"Yes."

Alina sat beside her. The bench was small, making their shoulders touch.

"Put your hands here," Cecily said, gently guiding her fingers. "Now press these three keys gently."

Alina pressed. The sound that came out was awful. Cecily winced.

"That’s... not right."

"You told me to press those three."

"I said to press them gently but you attacked them."

"I don’t know how to press gently then."

They tried again. Cecily played the short melody she had been working on.

"Now you."

Alina tried, hitting all the wrong notes.

"That was genuinely the worst thing I’ve ever heard. And I once heard Austin sing."

"Austin sings?"

"No. I just heard him sing when he was like...seventeen. He thought he was alone in the stable but I was hiding in the hayloft. He sang a ballad. It was so bad the horse tried to walk out of the stall."

Alina laughed, imagining the scene in her mind.

"Try again," Cecily said.

Alina kept trying but her each attempt was worse than the last. The whole session was complete chaos. Cecily laughed so hard that she had to hold the piano to steady herself.

Both of them were so busy laughing that neither of them heard the door open. Austin stood at the door, watching them quietly.

His sister was laughing so hard that she could barely stay upright, gripping the piano for balance. And Alina was beside her, laughing just as hard.

The room that had been silent for five years was now full of warmth and joy.

Cecily noticed him and her laughter softened.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"Long enough to hear the worst piano melody ever."

"That was Alina," Cecily said quickly.

"You are terrible too. I’ve heard you before," he replied.

They laughed again. Austin walked in and sat on the sofa.

"Play the melody you’ve been practicing," Austin told Cecily.

Cecily looked at him, then at Alina, and placed her hands on the keys and began. This time, when she reached the difficult part, she pushed through. A couple of notes were slightly off, but she completed it.

"Better," Austin said.

Cecily looked at both of them, her eyes shining.

"That’s the first time I’ve finished it."

"I knew you could do it," Alina said and put her hand over hers.

Late that afternoon, Alina returned at the sewing circle, looking happy.

"What happened to you?" Marguerite asked.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You’re glowing."

Alina touched her cheek.

"Really?"

"Yes," Marguerite replied. "Lady Brennan, is she glowing?"

Lady Brennan glanced over.

"She is."

Evelyn didn’t even look up.

"She has been glowing since she walked into the garden today."

"I had a good day." Alina said, sitting at her bench and picking up a needle.

She blushed at the memory of kissing Austin’s hand.

"If you say so," Marguerite smirked.

At night, Alina sat curled on the library window seat. Austin was busy and she didn’t want to be alone in the room without him. So, she decided to read instead.

She was on her fifth page of the book, when suddenly, Austin entered and sat across from her. He opened his history book but didn’t seem to read it.

"The Pellerin sonnets..." Alina said, after a while.

Austin, who was about to turn a page, paused. The topic reminded him of his very first conversation with Alina. When she had gone through his room and found his poetry book. They had ended up debating Harwick and Pellerin sonnets. He smiled at the memory. So much had changed since then.

"I reread sonnet fourteen last week. The one about the woman at the harbor. I think she chooses the storm. She walks to the harbor knowing what’s coming."

"You misread then," he replied. "She endures the storm."

"She walks to the harbor in the third stanza, Austin. Before the clouds even arrive."

"She walks there because the metaphor requires it."

"No. She chooses the storm," Alina argued.

He stood and went to the poetry shelf on the far wall to find the book to prove his point. Alina followed him.

They both reached the shelf together. She saw the book first and reached for it. The moment her fingers touched the cover, his hands covered hers. Neither of them pulled away.

She felt the warmth of his chest near her back, the faint brush of his breath against the side of her neck.

Slowly, she turned to face him. They were just a few inches apart. His eyes dropped to her lips. She watched his gaze linger, and her own followed, staring at his lips. The space between them suddenly felt electric, pulling them together like magnets.

He leaned in slowly, finally crossing the line he could no longer avoid. She rose onto her toes, following him, her heart hammering. Their lips were just about to touch when the library door creaked open.

A servant entered with a small lamp, searching the shelves.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. Lord Ashby requested a book."

Austin stepped back immediately. His shoulder hit the shelf and books tumbled down in a small avalanche with a loud thud.

The servant froze as he watched the duke and the bed warmer standing far too close to each other.

"I...Lord Ashby can wait...I apologize..."

The servant hurried out and closed the door. Silence crashed down. Austin looked embarrassed and frustrated. He turned and left without a word.

Alina stayed at the bookshelf, her hand still resting on the book. She put her other hand on her lips with trembling fingers.

"We almost kissed," she whispered.

She crouched down and began picking up the fallen books one by one, setting them back on the shelf carefully.

But her hands weren’t as steady as before, because something between them had finally changed and neither of them could pretend otherwise anymore.