Page 11 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

“No,” he whispered, retreating. “Good luck.”

Before she could utter a single word to stop him, the Duke of Norwyn practically fled. He backed out into the corridor with surprising speed for a man of his size, and the door clicked shut behind him.

Seraphina stared at the wood of the door, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. At that exact moment, she wanted nothing more than to march right through that doorway, track him down to his precious study, and slap the pristine, handsome grin clean off his face. He had trapped her against a wall the day before, to prove his absolute power, lectured her about her lack of survival instincts, and now, the very moment a quiet seven-year-old girl looked at him, he had abandoned her to save himself. It was a betrayal of the highest order.

Slowly, the silence of the room settled around her, and Seraphina forced herself to turn back around to face the window, entirely alone with a child who could clearly smell her fear.

She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to pitch slightly higher into what she imagined a warm, maternal tone sounded like. She even forced a wide, overly bright smile onto her face, though it felt more like a grimace.

“Well now!” Seraphina said, clapping her hands together. “What a very big, beautiful window you have here, little Alice! Do you like to look at the little birds outside? Look at them fly! Flap, flap, flap go their little wings! Do you see the pretty green trees?”

Alice’s eyes widened just a fraction. It was a tiny shift, but Seraphina caught it instantly. For the first time, the girl’s expression wasn’t completely blank; it was deeply curious. Sensing that tiny spark of reception, a rush of hope flared in Seraphina’s chest, giving her the urge to keep going.

“Flap flap!” she beamed. “Do you like birds? I love birds!”

The silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds. Then, Alice slowly tilted her head, her eyes scanning Seraphina’s flushed face.

“Are you quite... well, miss?” Alice asked, her voice incredibly small, perfectly calm, and too mature for a seven-year-old. “Do you require a glass of water? Or perhaps a cold cloth for your forehead?”

Seraphina first froze as the embarrassment washed over her like icy water. Her cheeks burned with a scorching heat that surpassed even the humiliation of being caught in a stolen maid’s uniform. A seven-year-old child was offering her medical assistance because her attempt at baby talk had made her look clinically insane.

“I am perfectly well, thank you,” Seraphina said quickly, dropping her hands to her sides and abandoning the high-pitched voice instantly. She abandoned her fake smile too, letting her expression drop back into its usual serious lines.

“At least you spoke to me. I will see that as a win,” she added.

If the childish approach was a disaster, she would simply have to rely on what she actually knew. If Alice wanted to speak like an adult, then they would speak like adults.

“The truth is,” Seraphina said as she sat by Alice’s side on the sofa. “I am entirely out of my comfort zone here. My sister Leonora frequently reminds me that I have no natural affinity for youth. I find predictability comforting, you see. Which is why my own true interests lean heavily toward physics and mathematics. The universe operates on strict, unyielding laws. Force equals mass times acceleration.”

Alice blinked, her eyes tracking Seraphina as she moved on the sofa. She didn’t say anything, which Seraphina took as a sign of supreme interest.

“Take the concept of gravity, for instance,” Seraphina continued, warming up to her subject. She began to gesture with her hands, entirely forgetting that her audience had only recently mastered the alphabet. “Sir Isaac Newton proved that every particle of matter attracts every other particle with a force proportional to the product of their masses. It is absolutely fascinating. When you look out that window at the falling leaves, you are witnessing a mathematical certainty. Then, of course, there is fluid mechanics, which explains the precise atmospheric pressure required to form the clouds you see today. If one understands the calculations, the world becomes entirely logical.”

Seraphina felt a rush of confidence. Alice was still, her small gaze locked onto her, completely paying attention. That meant she was listening, which was the first real sign of progress all morning. Driven by that spark of reception, Seraphina felt the urge to keep going, convinced she was finally getting through to the child.

“I prefer logical things,” Seraphina continued. “Practical things. Things that can be clearly defined, and things that a mathematical equation can solve. I absolutely detest leaving anything to chance. I like when every single detail is thought out completely.” She paused, a wave of self-reflection hitting her. “Which is exactly why the past few months have been so deeply chaotic for me. I have been making a lot of mistakes, Alice. It goes against everything I believe in.”

She shook her head, almost forgetting she was talking to a seven-year-old as she began to truly vent. “For instance, I should not have gone into the study yesterday. It was an entirely irrational move, and I certainly should not have confessed who I was. If he truly did not know my identity, why did I feel the need to blurt out that I am the one writing the column? It was a stupid, reckless thing to do. I should have kept completely quiet about it. But absolutely nothing about my life lately has been rational or logical. It defies every rule I live by.”

As she ranted on, completely wrapped up in her own frustrations, Seraphina turned back around to deliver her concluding thoughts on the beauty of order.

The words died in her throat.

Alice’s head had tilted entirely to the side, her small cheek resting heavily against the plush framework of the window seat. Her tiny hands were still folded in her lap, but her eyes were tightly shut, and her soft, even breathing filled the room. The child was fast asleep, utterly lulled into a state of peaceful unconsciousness.

Seraphina sat frozen, her mouth slightly open. Slowly, she let out a long breath and rubbed her temples.

“Well,” she whispered to herself, looking down at the sleeping girl. “If I cannot bond with you, at least I am highly skilled at providing a lullaby. I can put you to sleep every single time. Perhaps that is a win after all.”

Before she could even think about waking the child, the nursery door clicked open. Seraphina jumped, half-expecting the Duke to return, but it was only the butler.

“Miss Seraphina,” the butler said, bowing low. “His Grace is expecting you in his private office once you are done with Miss Alice.”

Seraphina felt her stomach drop straight into her shoes. She looked at the sleeping child, then at the butler, her mind racing with pure dread. She was too proud, and far too embarrassed, to admit to the staff that she had just completely failed to bond with a little girl.

“Well, I’m finished now,” she said, defeated. “Can you send her governess in?”

“Of course,” he responded.