The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 27: Stitches in Snow

Half an hour later, Lucien returned to the embroidery shop—the same one where he had left Adeline earlier. As he stepped inside, the soft chime of the doorbell rang, blending with the quiet murmur of conversation within. The warmth of the shop brushed against his skin once more, a stark contrast to the cold streets outside.

A few patrons glanced his way, their gazes and genuine nods lingering for only a moment before returning to their tasks. The shopkeeper, who had greeted him before, offered a polite nod. But Lucien's eyes were already seeking someone else.

Adeline was seated near the window, bathed in the golden glow of the ceiling lanterns. She carefully folded a piece of cloth, her fingers moving with quiet precision. When she sensed his presence approaching, she turned her head toward him; her expression brightened slightly, and she rose to her feet.

"Your Grace, you're back," she said, smoothing her blouse. "Just in time—I've finished my embroidery."

She stepped forward, extending a neatly embroidered handkerchief toward him. Delicate patterns of falling snow adorned the fabric, and beneath them, his name was stitched with meticulous care.

"What do you think?" she asked, a flicker of anticipation in her voice.

Lucien stared at the handkerchief, his expression unreadable. Silence stretched between them. Then, as if sensing something unspoken, Adeline lowered her gaze and hesitated.

"You don't have to accept it if you don't want to, Your Grace," she added quickly, her tone quieter now. "I just... felt like making one for you. As a token of gratitude for accompanying me."

Lucien exhaled softly, his gaze flickering from the embroidery to her expectant face. He knew she wasn't asking for much—not praise, not obligation. Still, words had to be chosen carefully.

"You didn't need to go through the trouble," he murmured. "Especially since I was simply repaying a debt."

For a brief second, something in her expression faltered. It was subtle, but he noticed—the slight retreat of her arm, the way her fingers curled around the fabric as if bracing for rejection.

The quiet in the shop seemed to stretch, a few lingering glances cast their way. He could feel it—expectation, curiosity. One wrong word, and it might change something between them.

Lucien reached out, his fingers brushing against the embroidered cloth as he took it from her hand.

"Even so," he said, voice measured, "thank you."

He carefully folded the handkerchief and tucked it into the pocket of his coat.

Adeline blinked at him, as if caught off guard by the acceptance, but she said nothing. Instead, she quickly turned away, discreetly tucking another piece of cloth—one she had yet to show—into her pocket.

Lucien straightened. "Are you finished here?" he asked.

At her nod, he turned toward the shopkeeper. "Then I'll settle the cost."

With that, he strode to the counter, and after a brief pause, Adeline finally followed.

As they stepped out of the shop and into the cold, Adeline clutched her cloak tighter, the icy wind nipping at her cheeks. Snowflakes danced in the air, their descent slow and unhurried.

Lucien walked beside her in measured strides, his presence steady yet distant. The streets of Ilyrion Glace stretched before them once more, lined with frost-covered houses and lanterns that flickered weakly behind glass panes, casting golden halos onto the snow.

She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air sting her lungs before exhaling in a soft cloud of white mist. "So, Your Grace," she said, tilting her head up to him with a smile. "Where will you take me next?"