Awakening Love Reborn to Be His Duchess (Elowen Hale) novel Chapter 472

His head remained lowered, his face pale. "I only meant... seeing that Your Grace's leg has recovered, I felt relieved for you."

Cassian did not respond. He simply continued forward.

By the time Dominic looked up again, all he could see was the edge of a dark cloak lifting in the night wind before disappearing into the waiting carriage of Duskmoor Manor.

The carriage door closed, shutting him out completely.

Dominic stood there for a long moment, watching it roll away into the darkness before finally letting out a breath.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, the chill of the night settling uncomfortably against his damp clothes.

Everyone in Vanelle knew the Duke of Duskmoor was distant and sharp-tongued.

Knowing it was one thing.

Standing in front of him was another entirely.

It left no room to breathe.

Shaking his head, Dominic turned back toward his own carriage, his steps unsteady.

He could not help but wonder how the young lady from Hale Manor managed her days, living beside a man like that.

By the time Cassian returned, the manor had long since quieted for the night.

He headed straight for the main residence, servants stepping aside as he passed.

"Where is Ella?" he asked as soon as he entered.

Gerda stepped forward to take his cloak. "Her Grace retired earlier. She should still be in her chamber, reading."

Cassian acknowledged her with a quiet nod and continued on.

Along the corridor, iron wall sconces flickered softly, their light shifting with the draft and stretching his shadow across the stone floor.

Inside the bedchamber, gauzy curtains framed the bed, half-drawn, with a warm glow spilling from a nearby lamp.

Elowen rested against the headboard, her head tilted slightly as sleep had claimed her. The book in her hand had slipped loose and lay open across the coverlet.

Cassian slowed as he approached, his gaze settling on her face.

Her brows were faintly drawn, as though her sleep was not entirely peaceful.

The soft light brushed over her lashes and warmed her cheeks with a gentle flush.

Something in his chest softened.

He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over the tension in her brow before letting his touch drift along her cheek.

His eyes lowered, lingering on the gentle curve of her abdomen.

Is it because of the child that she can't rest properly?

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