Caught in the Storm of a Duke's - Abby Ayles Page 0,71

to find satisfaction in the deeds and goodness he so often showed her; what it meant to be loved.

Despite her ever-growing affections for Stephen, she did not forget her family.

She continued to correspond with her parents and Aunt Tia.

The roads to London were almost ready to permit carriage trips once more, and she knew that the time was near when she would have to return home, or go on to Yorkland.

She wanted to do neither. She wished to remain with Stephen, staying by his side and loving him for the rest of her days.

However, something else troubled her. Despite how close they had grown, she sensed there were still things he hid from her.

Some doors in the house remained locked; there were days when he would be gone for hours and she would know nothing of his whereabouts.

And no one seemed able to tell her either.

There was also the matter that she still did not know the details of what had happened to his wife and unborn child.

He was now very different to the man she had met all those weeks ago, but some of the sadness still lingered in his eyes. She wished it would all be gone.

She tried to rid herself of these thoughts and concentrate on what they already shared, but no matter how hard she tried, the concerns would not go away.

One day, they eventually drove her to follow him when she saw him walking down a corridor with that faraway look in his eyes; the one that was an omen of his imminent disappearance.

She watched as one of the servants handed him freshly picked flowers. He accepted them with thanks and continued on his way.

She remained quiet, trailing him all the way to the west wing. There, he stopped by a door, unlocked it, and went inside.

She stayed outside, waiting, and wondering what lay in there. About an hour later, the door opened, and she watched him leave with a bunch of wilted flowers. Clearly, they were not the ones he had entered with.

Judith did not move an inch until the echoes of his footfalls faded away, letting her know he was far gone.

That was when she came out of her hiding place. As she reached the door, she tried to open it. To her surprise, it opened.

Her eyes widened. She had not really expected it to. Could he have forgotten to lock it after leaving?

Gently, she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her when she had fully entered.

That was when she took her time to look around. The sight she found took her breath away.

Her jaw fell, and she gasped in awe as she took it all in.

It appeared that this chamber had been meant to be a nursery for his child.

A crib lay in the middle, and the walls were beautifully decorated with colorful paintings and artifacts.

Baby dresses were strewn all over. A nursery chandelier hung from the ceiling.

It looked as though everything had been left the way it had been when they were preparing for the child’s arrival.

As she walked further into the room, she looked behind her and stopped in her tracks. On the wall that held the door hung a portrait.

It was of a woman. A very beautiful woman with kind, innocent eyes.

Judith’s heart twisted with sadness as she realized who it must be.

The late duchess; Stephen’s lost wife.

It was easy to see why he had been captivated by her from the start. She looked as though she had had a pure soul and a giving heart.

Judith stood there for the longest moment, taking in the features of the woman in the painting.

Her face had been round, her chin, soft. Her skin flawless, her eyes blue, and her hair had the richness of honey. She had clearly been petite, and her sweet smile looked as though it may have stolen many hearts.

Judith searched her mind, wondering if she would feel the merest bit of envy, but there was none.

Only sadness for the ill fate the duchess had suffered, and the life she could have had if the world had not been so cruel to her.

The thought dampened Judith’s spirits so much that her eyes filled with tears. Struggling not to cry, she turned away from the portrait and began to look around the room.

She lightly touched the crib. Somehow, she could tell that it had been constructed with love, from the finest wood. She wondered if Stephen had made it himself. She would not have put it past