Chapter 99: Pie, Proximity, and Private Counsel
Chapter 98: Pie, Proximity, and Private Counsel
Lyria looked at the slice of cherry pie extended toward her on the square of parchment, then lifted her gaze to Lucian’s face. For a moment she hesitated, her posture straight and proper despite the unconventional circumstances. It was not every day a duke stood in a servant’s chamber offering sweets as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Thank you," she said at last, her voice quiet and measured, the words shaped with the careful politeness expected of one in her position. She reached out and took the slice from him, her fingers brushing lightly against the parchment.
The first bite was small and tentative, but the moment the sweet, tart filling met her tongue, a soft, involuntary moan escaped her. The flavour burst across her senses—rich, warm, and achingly familiar. It had been over a decade since she had tasted anything like it, and for that brief instant, the palace, the pain in her back, and the strangeness of the situation all faded.
Lucian remained perfectly still, his expression composed, though the sound had sent an unexpected jolt through him. He pretended it had not affected him, schooling his features into polite neutrality as though he had heard nothing at all. A gentleman did not comment on such things.
Lyria did not even bother moving to the bed as she had declared. She stood close to him—closer than propriety would normally allow—eating with a small, genuine smile curving her lips. She seemed entirely unaware of the proximity, lost for a moment in the simple pleasure of the pie. Lucian noticed every detail: the way her shoulders relaxed, the faint flush of enjoyment on her cheeks, the way she licked a crumb from her lower lip without thinking.
He did not step back. He simply watched her, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling over him like a fragile truce.
In another wing of the palace, far removed from the quiet intimacy of that small chamber, another man sat in silence.
Julian Redwick stood near the tall windows of his chambers, his posture straight, his hands loosely clasped behind his back.
His gaze was fixed beyond the glass.
But he saw none of it.
The gardens stretched below, bathed in the fading light of early evening. The hedges were trimmed to perfection. The pathways neat. The fountains still.
But for all its beauty, he was focused on something else... more accurately, someone else.
The image of Lyria’s scared face from earlier that day refused to leave his mind, no matter how much he tried to be rid of it. After leaving the gardens, he had wanted to search for her, to ensure she was all right, but he had restrained himself. Any overt attention from him would likely draw the Princess’s notice, and that would only bring more trouble down upon Lyria. He could not allow that. She was but a servant after all—and the princess’s servant, not his.
He turned the matter over in his thoughts, searching for some way to make amends without making things worse. He was almost certain the Princess would take her anger out on the young woman. He had seen the disgust in Jacinta’s eyes, poorly masked though it had been.
He exhaled slowly.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Enter," Julian said without turning.
The door opened smoothly, and his valet stepped inside.
Edmund Hale carried a small stack of letters, his expression composed, though his gaze sharpened slightly upon taking in his master’s posture.
"My lord," Edmund said, inclining his head. "Correspondence has arrived from Stoneford."
Julian turned then, his expression smoothing into something more neutral.
"Is there any cause for concern?" he asked.
Edmund stepped forward, offering the letters.
"I cannot say with certainty," he replied. "They were delivered by Cade. He did not indicate urgency... but my lord, is something the matter?"
"What?" Julian asked him.
"You look as though something is troubling you," Edmund told him.
Julian smiled weakly. "Nothing is troubling me, Edmund. You can be at ease."
Edmund did not press, but he knew his master well enough to sense when something weighed on him. He would only have to wait until the baron was ready to tell him what troubled him.
Julian accepted the letters, his fingers brushing lightly over the seals before breaking them one by one.
He read in silence.
His expression did not change much as his eyes moved across the pages.
After a moment, he exhaled softly.
Most were routine reports—daily checkups on the territory’s affairs, updates on harvests, minor disputes resolved in his absence. His second-in-command, Marcus Vale, had written the longest missive.
It assured Julian that all was well and urged him not to worry, to focus instead on the competition. There was also a curious inquiry about the Princess—how she appeared, her temperament, and whether she might make a suitable match.
Julian made a sound at that.
"Is something the matter?" Edmund asked.
"Except Marcus asking about the princess and if she will make a suitable match," Julian said with a shake of his head.
"Lord Vale is rather curious, my lord," the valet observed. "He always has been when it comes to matters of the heart—or politics, which often amount to the same thing."
Julian nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Indeed he is."
He fell quiet for a time, staring at the letters without really seeing them. Then he cleared his throat.
"Edmund," he said, his voice taking on a more thoughtful tone, "you are well versed in the art of love, are you not?"
The valet raised a single brow, clearly taken aback.
"I beg your pardon, my lord?"
Julian adjusted his spectacles, a touch of colour rising to his cheeks despite his usual composure.
"Since you are married," he continued, choosing his words with care, "you know about love, do you not?"
Edmund simply stared at his master in disbelief, the letters momentarily forgotten.
