The sun hung high in the sky, casting golden rays over Everthorne Manor's expansive estate. A gentle breeze stirred the trees, leaves swirling in rhythmic motions across the courtyard. Amelia ambled through the gardens, her cane striking the stone path with each step as she passed among the rosebushes.
It had been weeks since she'd fallen, and although her injuries continued to haunt her, she would not allow them to define her. If anything, she'd become more resolute. Her duties as Duchess had previously been a weight imposed upon her during Claude's absence, but now they were a pride borne of silence.
But it was more than the estate that she found comfort in—it was the animals.
When she arrived at the stables, a well-known whinny met her ears. Her lips curved in a rare, yet genuine smile.
"Miss me, Orion?" she whispered as she entered.
The great black stallion shifted his hooves, his ears flapping with pleasure as he turned to greet her. Amelia leaned up to pet him through the mane. Mr. Alden, her stable master, nodded in approval.
"He's been antsy without you, Your Grace," he added, retying his cap. "Won't let anyone else ride him."
Amelia smiled quietly, running a hand down Orion's nose. "He's stubborn."
"Aye," agreed Mr. Alden. "Just like his owner."
She gave him an arching look, but the stable master just chuckled and went back to grooming.
As she gave Orion a sugar cube, she sensed a heavy presence behind her. She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"Since when did you spend your mornings in the stables?" Claude's tone was a blend of curiosity and something else—something softer.
She went on petting Orion's neck, not even bothering to turn towards him. "Since I was a kid. But I guess you never really noticed."
Claude bristled at the soft accusation, but rather than snapping back, he moved in closer. He watched how effortlessly the stallion relaxed into her touch, entirely at peace in her hands.
"You always did have a knack with them," he acknowledged, his tone softer than before.
She finally turned, her eyebrow raised. "You remember?"
He looked at her, something inscrutable flashing in his face. "I remember more than you imagine, Amelia."
A silence hung between them, heavy with things left unsaid.
Claude had been observing her. Not only today, but for weeks. Since she had started avoiding him, since she had thrown herself into the estate, he had not been able to turn away.
She was not the same anymore. She was tougher. She did not gaze at him with desire or wistfulness anymore. No, the Amelia he remembered was not the same. She was fierce in her independence and firm in her choices.
And it was driving him crazy.
He loathed the manner in which his eyes trailed her in the dining hall, the manner in which he found himself noticing the way her hair caught the light from the candles. He loathed the manner in which he found himself eavesdropping when she spoke to the servants, or the way he struggled not to move a step closer when she passed.
Most of all, he resented the fact that she no longer seemed to care about him.
"Does Orion's firm better suit your tastes than mine, Duchess?" His tone was half-tongue-in-cheek, half-serious.
She returned to the horse with a small, enigmatic smile. "Orion has never let me down."
Claude's jaw clenched. He moved closer, than he needed to. "Is that what you really think of me?"
She let out her breath, her hands freezing on Orion's coat. "Does it matter, Claude?"
He should have left her alone. He should have turned and gone away. But he couldn't.
Instead, he reached out, his fingers touching the top of her hand. It was little more than a brush, but it shivered through him. Amelia came to a halt, her own breath caught in her throat.
For an instant, neither did anything.
Then she moved back, withdrawing as if seared.
Claude ground his fists. "You speak as if you don't know me," he growled.
She looked up at him, her brown eyes unflinching. "Because in so many ways, I don't."
With that, she turned and walked away from the stables, leaving him to stand there, the force of her words crushing him like a boulder.
And for the first time in years, Claude Everthorne didn't have the slightest idea.