CHAPTER 18: SUNLIGHT AND SILK

Lady Eleanor’s POV

Having raised two boisterous, headstrong sons, I had spent the better part of my life surrounded by heavy boots, sword scabbards, and the quiet weight of estate politics. I had always craved the gentle warmth of a daughter—a quiet presence to share secrets with, walk through sunlit corridors, and soften the cold corners of this massive stone house.

Eva had arrived like an answer to a prayer I had long stopped speaking aloud.

She was remarkable—graceful, impeccably mannered, and possessed of a rare intelligence that made it seem as though she had been raised in the finest drawing rooms of the realm. Since assigning her as my personal maid, my days had transformed.

"My Lady," Eva had said earlier that afternoon, her dark eyes sparkling with playful warmth, "you spend far too much time sitting over embroidery frames and tea trays. You need fresh air. And perhaps... a little exercise."

Before I could object, she had guided me to my dressing room, selected a light woollen gown without a heavy corset, wrapped a soft shawl around my shoulders, and led me to the secluded south rose garden.

"A game, My Lady," Eva explained, stepping onto the grass with a mischievous smile. "A simple game of tag. It is quite common in the northern country. I chase you until I touch your sleeve, and then you chase me. It brings the blood back to the cheeks."

I had blinked, scandalised for a moment. "Tag? Eva, I am a Duchess!"

"You are a woman who deserves to feel alive, My Lady," she had countered softly.

And so, we played.

I had not run like that in thirty years. The crisp summer wind caught my hair, lifting the heavy veil of my title, and within minutes, the rose garden echoed with laughter. I chased her along the gravel path, dodging the stone fountains as Eva deliberately slowed so I could catch her.

I felt twenty years old again. Free, light, and entirely unburdened.

We rounded the marble sundial at full speed and collided, tumbling together onto the sun-warmed grass. We lay on our backs, staring up at the blue sky, gasping for breath and laughing until my ribs burned.

"Did you just make our mother chase you across the garden?"

A bright, familiar voice boomed over us.

I pushed myself up on my elbows to find Leo standing at the edge of the path, wearing a loose linen shirt, his arms crossed with utter disbelief. Beside him stood Lucian, his dark cloak slung over one arm, his storm-gray eyes unusually wide as he stared at his Duchess mother sitting in the dirt.

"Quite unprofessional, Lady Eva," Lucian added, his usual cold voice carrying a subtle thread of amusement.

Eva gasped, her cheeks flushing as she quickly sat up and smoothed her apron. "My Lords! Forgive me, I—"

"Nonsense!" I laughed, waving my hand as my sons approached.

Leo reached down and pulled me effortlessly to my feet, brushing the grass from my shawl with dramatic care. Lucian offered Eva his hand. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her small palm in his. He pulled her up smoothly, his gaze lingering on her flushed face for a heartbeat before he released her.

"Come, Mother," Leo said, linking his arm with mine and escorting me toward the stone patio with exaggerated chivalry. "Before you decide to challenge the stable boys to a footrace."

"Oh, it was magnificent, Leo!" I beamed as I settled into a wrought-iron patio chair. "Eva prepared a tray of iced berry tea before we began, and it was the absolute best decision I have made all season."

I looked across the table at Eva, who was neatly wiping down the tea spout. "Thank you, Eva. Truly. Making you my personal maid has been a blessing."

Leo leaned against the stone balustrade, smirking as he picked up a lemon tart. "Mother, surely your best decision this season is Lucian's upcoming wedding?"

Lucian's jaw tightened instantly. His head snapped toward his brother. "Hey."

"I regret nothing!" Leo shouted, turning on his heel and bolting down the steps.

"Get back here, Leo!" Lucian growled, taking off after him as Leo's laughter echoed across the estate.

I took a slow sip of my iced tea, watching my two sons disappear around the hedgerow like wild boys once again.

Then I turned to Eva. She stood beside the tea cart, a soft, radiant smile lighting her face as she watched them run. There was a quiet, bittersweet warmth in her eyes that made my heart swell.

"Quite a wonderful afternoon, wouldn't you say, Eva?" I asked softly.

Eva faced me and dipped into a graceful curtsy. "I wouldn't agree more, My Lady."

I lifted my teacup toward the bright afternoon sun.

"A toast," I declared, with a youthful energy I hadn't felt in decades. "To feeling young, alive, and utterly refreshed."

Eva raised her own cup, her eyes crinkling with quiet delight. "To feeling alive, My Lady."

Our porcelain cups met with a soft, cheerful clink, a tiny splash of berry tea spilling onto the silver tray as our laughter mingled with the warm summer breeze.