Chapter 84
I awoke before her.
We had not shifted at all since the previous night. There we lay still, atop the coverlet, dressed in the same garments we had worn to that auction. I had managed to rid myself of my shoes at some point, but Millicent still wore her heels.
My gaze lingered on her face. Truly, I could stare at her forever and never tire. But I had an objective.
She needed food.
Her breasts that were once grander than mine had diminished. Her hips, though still blessedly wide and sculptural, had grown far too angular. It was not vanity that stirred within me, but concern. I could see the cost of our separation written upon her bones.
And so, I would feed her. Myself. I had, after all, acquired a few humble skills during my exile among the plebeians of Zalvanica. I intended to put them to use.
With utmost delicacy, I slid her arm from around me and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. She stirred not a bit. Good.
I washed quickly, then dressed in a thin and breathable blue summer gown. I selected another dress for her, a scandalous shade of blue, bold, bare-shouldered, the sort of garment she would have deemed 'tastefully risqué'. Mine, of course, had sleeves.
As I reached the door to leave, I paused.
Her words from the night before echoed with precision. She had feared this was all a dream, a fragile illusion spun from longing. And here I was, about to disappear the moment the sun graced the windows?
Absolutely not.
I turned at once, chiding myself beneath my breath. I should be sitting by her side, watching her breathe, not traipsing off to toast bread.
I dragged a chair from the corner of the room and began hauling it toward the bed. The legs scraped ever so slightly, and in that moment of clumsy noise, I saw her stir.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed her upper body rising slowly. She rubbed at her eyes like a drowsy child, her long fingers curled in the most elegant way.
My heart. Good heavens. She was adorable. She was absolutely, ruinously adorable.
I had never, in all our times together, seen her perform such an ordinary, endearing gesture. My mind short-circuited. I dashed to her and threw myself into her arms. Startled, she let out the softest gasp and promptly fell backward into the bed. I showered her face with kisses, one after the other, as though I were a spring rain and she the earth I longed to awaken. A smile bloomed across her lips, radiant and unguarded.
With great reluctance, I rolled off her and sat up. "Good morning, slumbering duchess," I declared with flair, taking her hands and drawing her upright. "Now, up with you. Off to the washroom you go. I am going to prepare breakfast myself. A personal act of devotion from your domestic lover."
She laughed softly, allowing herself to be nudged toward the adjoining washroom. "And what if I told you I should like to make breakfast with you? I am rather capable in the kitchen, you know."
"You? Since when have you known how to do anything so... delightfully ordinary?"
She looked over her shoulder at me, a knowing glint in her eyes. "I cook with Vincent. A few times a week."
Something in my chest twisted and bloomed all at once. "You do?"
"We make fried eggs together. He likes to crack them, though he's not always accurate." Her eyes softened, "sometimes we make bread. He enjoys kneading the dough. He says it feels like punching clouds."
My heart swelled beyond its bounds, and I could not help the smile that overtook my face. I could see it. The two of them, side by side in the sunlit kitchen, flour in his hair, laughter in the air. It was a scene too lovely, too precious.
"Well then," I beamed, "let us not waste another minute. The sooner we eat, the sooner we may go to him."
Millicent pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. "Then I shall make haste."
"I shall go find Laura while you wash," I replied, already moving toward the door.
"I shall be out in a moment."
I called back over my shoulder, "I left a dress for you upon the chair. It matches mine."
From within the washroom, her voice floated back, affectionate. "I see it. Thank you."
I returned to the bed and gave the bellcord a firm pull. A maid appeared with admirable promptness.
"Summon Laura," I said curtly.
Laura arrived soon after, which was hardly surprising, as her chamber lay just across from mine.
"Has Kyle signed the divorce papers?" I asked, my attention already half-claimed by the trinket drawer of my vanity, sifting through my collection.
Laura sighed. The sound was enough to summon a frown upon my brow. "He has not."
"No, My Lady," she confirmed. "He refused. I was compelled to call upon the assistance of two footmen and Butler Fin to prevent him from entering your bedchamber last night. He was insistent."
"Hire more servants. Strong ones this time. Kyle is a large man, taller and broader than most. Should he truly lose himself in a fit, our current staff would be flattened like pressed flowers. Butler Fin is ancient. He would crumple if Kyle so much as sneezed in his direction."
"Understood, My Lady. I shall see it done immediately," Laura replied, inclining her head before departing.