Peregrine walked out of Bianca’s bedchamber and straight into his own. He closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and finally released the breath he had been holding.
His heart was still racing as he closed his eyes.
Bianca...
Wet, with her clothes clinging to her porcelain-smooth skin, dark hair dripping over her shoulders, cheeks flushed, and lips reddened from the cold. And those deep blue eyes looking at him with such strange intensity, as though she wanted to...
No. That could not be what she had meant.
His hand rose almost absently to the reddish patch on his neck.
He remembered the warmth of her lips... The brush of her tongue... Those soft little breaths against his skin.
Peregrine’s jaw tightened.
He could have stopped her. He should have stopped her sooner. But he hadn’t.
Despite every sensible thought telling him otherwise, he had liked the warmth of her lips against his neck. He had even found himself waiting for the next touch, wondering where she would kiss him next.
His pulse quickened again.
Peregrine immediately smacked the back of his head with his palm.
What am I thinking?
His poor little wife was simply hungry. She was starving enough to cling to him and, in her desperation, apparently had mistaken him for something edible.
That was all. Nothing more.
And here he was, entertaining thoroughly inappropriate thoughts about her.
He exhaled sharply.
Absolutely not.
He called for a maid. "Bring something warm for Her Grace to eat."
The maid bowed and hurried away.
Peregrine waited until she was gone before entering his chamber again. Whatever foolishness had taken hold of his thoughts, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
He crossed to his desk and retrieved the sigil he had recovered from the rubble from his pocket.
His gaze hardened as he studied it.
There were rogues to investigate, a mysterious sigil to decipher, and far too many unanswered questions surrounding the recent attacks.
He had no time to be distracted, especially not by his wife, when her life was in danger.
The longer Peregrine studied it, the more certain he became that it was a Dominion Sigil, used to control Rogues without summoning them and used to bind them as slaves.
Who was controlling those Rogues? And why did they attack Bianca?
Peregrine stood. Theodore would know about it better. Then he remembered that Theodore would be attending the wedding reception with the Marchioness that evening.
He walked out of the room and the maid was returning with a plate of warm soup.
"Have Her Grace prepare for the wedding reception. She will be attending with me," he said.
The maid stared at him for a moment, clearly stunned by the request, before bowing and entering Bianca’s bedchamber.
By then, Bianca had changed out of her wet clothes and was drying her hair. She didn’t want to think about Peregrine or his odd behavior. When Flora entered with warm soup, Bianca gladly accepted it.
"His Grace asked that you prepare for the reception, Your Grace. He will be accompanying you."
The maid set the warm soup before her with a pleased little smile.
"He also specifically asked me to bring this. He said you ought to have something warm before you leave."
Bianca stared at the maid and then at the warm bowl of soup.
What had gotten into him lately? Was it simply because it was her birthday... or was there something else?
Even after all the disappointments of the day, the small act of concern made her heart skip. It was nice to know he had thought about her.
Maybe he hadn’t left her alone because he wanted to avoid her. Maybe he had simply wanted her to get warm.
But he could have gotten her warm in other ways...
The wicked thought made her giggle, startling the innocent maid, and Bianca took another sip of the soup. Warmth spread through her body, settling somewhere deep in her chest.
It should have been difficult to feel this calm after nearly dying. Yet somehow, this was the best day of her life. She had spent time with Peregrine again, touched the clouds, and discovered that he still remembered her birthday.
For now, that was enough.
Once she had warmed herself, Bianca walked over to the table and picked up the box she had abandoned there. Written across the top in Peregrine’s unmistakable handwriting were the words:
Happy Birthday, Bianca.
Her lips curved into an uncontrollable smile. She picked up the parchment and pressed it briefly to her lips before opening the box.
Her eyes widened.
The Treasure of the Sea.
So... Peregrine had bought it for her?
A delighted little laugh escaped her. She immediately asked her maid to dress her in an elaborate blue gown that would complement the necklace.
Bianca sat cross-legged on the vanity chair, admiring the final, gravity-defying pins Flora slid into her hair. Tilting the hand-mirror, she tracked the flawless structure of her silhouette with a proud grin.
Lowering the mirror, she picked the necklace.
"Flora, help me with this."
She closed her eyes as Flora fastened the necklace. The pearls and coral settled against her skin, and Bianca shivered before opening her eyes. Her fingers drifted over the pearls and coral as Flora fastened the clasp.
"I cannot wait for Genevieve and Isolde to see this, Flora."
She giggled and turned the wedding ring on her finger.
"After all that talk about spectacles and my missing ring..." Her eyes gleamed with wicked delight. "I shall make quite certain they get a good look at this one."
She admired the necklace again.
"And then I’ll smile very sweetly while they try not to choke on their own envy."
Bianca giggled.
"Oh, Flora, I am going to be absolutely unbearable." She grinned at her reflection. "They think I’m shameless? I’ll show those rude little critters just how shameless this Duchess of Valois can be."
She could barely contain her glee. The weight of the pearls against her neck made her straighten proudly, and she picked up the mirror again to admire them from every angle.
Perfect.
She was so busy admiring the necklace that she didn’t notice anything was wrong.
Flora should have stepped back by now. Usually, she would have laughed at Bianca’s ridiculous monologue or offered some sensible piece of advice to remind her mistress of her position.
But she was still holding Bianca’s shoulder.
Bianca frowned.
Why was Flora still standing there?
She shifted the mirror to get a better look at her maid. Except... She couldn’t see Flora’s face. All she could see was a dark velvet embroidered dress coat.
Bianca’s hand froze.
Slowly, she tilted the mirror farther.
Peregrine?!
Bianca nearly dropped the mirror.
When did he come in? How much did he listen?
"You have clearly given this considerable thought, dear Duchess," Peregrine said.
He bent slightly, bringing his mouth closer to her ear.
"Here I thought we were merely attending a reception."
Bianca went rigid. She slowly lowered the mirror.
Oh, no.
She stood, her hands curling into fists.
It’s over.
The reputation she had spent years building as an elegant, dignified Duchess had just been destroyed by her own mouth.
What was she supposed to do now?
Then the worst thought struck her.
This man is going to abandon me publicly, isn’t he?