---
The day had been long, filled with the usual affairs of the estate and the burdens of responsibility that came with his title. As the evening cast a golden glow over Ashbourne Manor, the Duke of Ashbourne, Luca, concluded his work and prepared to descend for dinner. He paused for a moment, straightening his cravat and brushing an imagined speck of dust from his jacket. The ritual was one of control, a grounding habit that allowed him to transition from the Duke to simply Luca, a man going to share a meal with his new wife.
As he stepped into the corridor, he saw Adelaide emerging from her room. She was a vision, her beauty seemingly magnified by the soft candlelight that flickered along the walls. She wore a gown of deep emerald green, the color complementing her fair skin and auburn hair, which was loosely gathered in an elegant style. Her eyes met his, and she smiled—a genuine, warm smile that made his heart skip a beat.
"Good evening, my dear," he said, his voice softening as he approached her.
"Good evening, Your Grace," she replied, a playful glint in her eye.
Without a second thought, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. The touch was tender, an unspoken acknowledgment of their growing closeness. Adelaide's eyes widened slightly, not from surprise but from the pleasant shock of the affectionate gesture.
"You look stunning," he murmured, his lips still close to her skin.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
He offered his arm, and she took it, their hands entwining naturally as they began their walk to the dining room. The manor had been a place of tension and silence for so long, but lately, there was a palpable change. The servants had noticed the difference, their hushed conversations now filled with speculation and cautious optimism.
"Have you noticed how happy Her Grace seems?" one maid whispered to another as they passed by.
"Aye, and His Grace too. It's as if the clouds have lifted," replied the footman, carrying a tray of polished silverware.
As they reached the dining room, Adelaide turned to Luca, her expression thoughtful. "There's something I wish to discuss with you," she began.
"Of course, what is it?" he asked, pulling out her chair and helping her to sit.
"It's about Tina," she said, watching his reaction carefully.
Luca nodded. He had heard about the mysterious young woman Adelaide had taken under her wing. "I would like to meet her," he said simply.
Adelaide smiled, relieved. "I'll ask Andrea to call her down." She gestured to one of the servants, who nodded and left the room to fetch Tina.
Moments later, Tina entered the dining room. She was a petite young woman with striking features that seemed vaguely familiar to Luca. Her dark hair framed her face, and her eyes were sharp, taking in the grandeur of the room with a mixture of awe and caution.
"Tina, this is His Grace, the Duke of Ashbourne," Adelaide introduced.
Tina curtsied gracefully. "Your Grace," she said, her voice steady.
Luca inclined his head. "Tina, I've heard much about you. May I ask your family name?"
Tina hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, "My family name is Smith, Your Grace."
"Smith," Luca repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. "I cannot say I am familiar with any notable Smiths in the region. And your village?"
"It's a small, indigenous village called Eldenwood," Tina replied smoothly.
Luca's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but in curiosity. "Eldenwood? An unusual name. I have traveled extensively and am familiar with many places, yet I do not recall such a village."
"It's quite remote and not well known, Your Grace," Tina said, maintaining her composure.
Luca nodded, although his curiosity was piqued. "I see. Well, it is a pleasure to have you here. You are our guest, and you shall be treated with the utmost care."
As they sat down to dinner, Luca couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen Tina before. Her face, her demeanor—something about her was strikingly familiar. He studied her surreptitiously throughout the meal, trying to place where he might have encountered her.
Adelaide noticed his distraction and gently touched his hand. "What do you think?" she asked softly, drawing him back to the present.
"We shall discuss it later," he replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. Turning to Tina, he added, "You must be well-fed and comfortable here. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Tina said, her expression grateful.
As the meal progressed, the conversation turned to lighter topics, but Luca's mind remained partially preoccupied with the enigma that was Tina. He made a mental note to investigate further, but for now, he would respect Adelaide's wishes and ensure their guest was looked after.
The dinner concluded with a selection of fine desserts, and as the servants cleared the table, Luca stood and offered his hand to Adelaide once more. "Shall we retire to the drawing room?" he suggested.
"That sounds lovely," Adelaide agreed, taking his hand.
They walked together, leaving the dining room behind. The servants exchanged glances, their curiosity unabated but tempered by the evident bond between the Duke and Duchess.
In the drawing room, Luca poured them each a glass of brandy, handing one to Adelaide before sitting beside her on the settee.
"Now, tell me more about Tina," he said, his tone serious yet gentle.
Adelaide took a sip of her drink, considering her words carefully. "She is a mystery, I admit. But she seems kind and in need of our help. I feel a certain responsibility towards her."
Luca nodded, respecting her compassion. "We will keep her safe and uncover the truth in time. For now, let us enjoy this evening and the peace that has come to our home."
Adelaide smiled, leaning into his side. "Thank you, Luca."
As they sat together, the warmth of the fire casting a cozy glow around them, the sense of contentment and hope for the future settled over them. The manor was no longer just a grand house; it was becoming a home filled with possibility and the promise of happiness.
---
The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a pale glow over Ashbourne Manor. The Duke of Ashbourne, Luca, retired to his room, his mind swirling with thoughts of Adelaide. The day's events had left him restless, and now, alone in his chambers, he found himself thinking of his wife in ways he had never allowed himself before. Her beauty, her grace, the warmth of her touch—all stirred something deep within him.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the images that crowded his mind. This couldn't be love.
No, it was impossible.
He had built walls around his heart, fortified by the scars he bore both physically and emotionally. If Adelaide saw those scars, would she still look at him the same way? He doubted it.
Luca sighed and undressed, his movements slow and deliberate. The old wounds itched, a familiar and unwelcome sensation. He called out for Clement, his valet. The man arrived promptly, his expression attentive and respectful.
"Run my bath, Clement," Luca ordered, his voice tinged with weariness.
Clement nodded and set to work, filling the large tub with steaming water and adding fragrant oils to help soothe his master's troubled skin. Luca sank into the bath, the heat easing the tension in his muscles. When he emerged, Clement was ready with a towel and a jar of a homemade mentholated balm, a native remedy that worked wonders on the duke's scars.
"Let me apply it, Your Grace," Clement said, his tone gentle yet firm.
Luca nodded, allowing Clement to spread the balm over his back. The cooling sensation brought instant relief, but the strong scent was overpowering. Luca wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Clement, inform Her Grace that I will not be able to bed her tonight. Tell her I have urgent work to attend to," Luca instructed, his voice strained.
"But Your Grace—" Clement began, but one look from Luca silenced him. He bowed and left to deliver the message.
Meanwhile, in Adelaide's room, she stood before her vanity, meticulously sectioning her hair before tying it in a loose braid. Her hair was sensitive, and she never let the maids handle it. She wore a delicate robe, the fabric soft against her skin. She was almost ready for bed, anticipation building within her as she thought of Luca joining her.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Luca, she smiled and moved to open it. But instead of her husband, she found Clement standing there. Her smile faded instantly.
"Good evening, Lady Adelaide," Clement said, his tone apologetic. "His Grace regrets to inform you that he has urgent work and will not be able to join you tonight."
Adelaide's heart sank. She had been looking forward to their time together, hoping that their bond would grow stronger. "Thank you, Clement," she said, her voice barely masking her disappointment. "I wish to see him."
"Lady Adelaide, I must insist—" Clement began, but Adelaide brushed past him, determined to find Luca.
She made her way to his chambers, expecting to find him buried in paperwork or lost in thought in his study. But when she arrived, she found him fast asleep, his face peaceful in slumber. The sight of him so vulnerable and unguarded twisted her heart.
Once again, he had kept her at arm's length, and the rejection stung. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She turned away and quietly left his room, her steps heavy with sorrow.
As she returned to her own room, she couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that enveloped her. Perhaps Luca didn't want her, or maybe he wasn't capable of love. The doubts gnawed at her, each one a tiny wound that added to her growing sense of despair.
Unbeknownst to her, Tina watched from the shadows, her expression unreadable. She had seen the exchange, the unspoken pain in Adelaide's eyes, and the tension that lay beneath the surface of their marriage. What she made of it, only time would tell.