Page 17 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“Poppy!” The child ran at her with such force that she had to catch herself before stumbling.

Her small arms locked around her waist. Aurora pressed her face into the folds of Poppy’s dress and held on as if the minutes apart had been years.

“My darling,” Poppy said, bending over her. She kept her voice light because Aurora listened for tremors. “Have you grown taller since yesterday?”

Aurora drew back only enough to look up at her. She was well dressed, her clothes neat and carefully chosen, her hair attended to with more patience than most adults granted a child of four. There was no neglect in her at this time, no hurried pin or careless stain. Poppy noticed everything and let none of it show too quickly. The nuns only prepared them for this way if an adoption was successful.

“No, silly! I have not grown,” Aurora said with great seriousness. “But I was t…t…thinking.”

“Oh, that is far more dangerous, especially when a girl does it.” Poppy winked at her, and she giggled. “Tell me these thoughts of yours?”

Aurora nodded as if this confirmed everything. “I h…h…heard t…t…the man t…t…taking me and Princess is a m…m…monster.”

Poppy’s breath caught, then softened into a laugh as she held Aurora’s hand. “That man is your uncle. And do you remember the story I read to you about the monster that later became a hero?”

“Yes. But what if…if…if the books are wrong?” Aurora lowered her voice.

“The books are never wrong. And sometimes what looks like a monster was a hero all along.”

Poppy smiled at Aurora, but something within her shifted as she thought about the duke. The way he towered over her and claimed her as his duchess. She could not get him out of her mind in her wakefulness and even in her sleep. His piercing eyes never seemed to scare her; they intrigued her more than anything ever did.

She glanced across the room to where Princess rested, no longer flushed with fever or limp with that terrible heat that had made Poppy’s hands shake in private. The baby seemed at peace in her own skin, and happier, as though she knew she were heading home today.

Perhaps, just for her, he is a hero.

Poppy looked away before her emotions betrayed her.

Aurora tightened her hold again. “T…T…Then we are g…g…going home with a hero today?”

“Yes, I promise that you are going home with a hero today.” Poppy caressed her hair and smiled down at her.

“W…w…will you come live with us, Poppy?” she asked eagerly.

Poppy was unsure how to answer that question. Perhaps she should leave it to the duke to explain to Aurora.

“I believe I will be with you, my darling, just not right away. So, you will have to be patient.” Poppy smiled down at her hopeful face.

“I will be counting the hours!” she exclaimed.

“Truly? Then you will be very busy and might miss me.”

“I will not,” Aurora replied proudly. “I will know when you are home.”

Poppy brushed a hand over her face to try to hide the tears of joy. “Then I shall try not to keep you waiting too long.”

Aurora smiled, satisfied by the promise. Poppy smiled back because she deserved certainty, even borrowed certainty, even certainty stitched together from duty and fear.

And yet, standing in that room they would never see again, with Aurora warm against her and Princess almost free of her fever and napping peacefully, Poppy felt the hard line of obligation shift to surrender.

Perhaps marrying the duke will not be such a bad idea after all.

“Your Grace,” Jonathan had appeared without sound, as he often did, as if the air had produced him.

Hector did not need to turn fully to know it was him. The footman had a manner of presence unlike anyone else in the household. He was quiet, exact, never apologetic, and never intrusive enough to be accused of intrusion.

“My carriage is where it usually is, am I right, Jonathan?” Hector grunted.

“Yes, Your Grace.”