Page 31 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

Her face lifted more fully toward him. “How much can you actually see?”

The question should have annoyed him. It had annoyed him often enough from physicians, acquaintances, women pretending delicacy, and men pretending bluntness.

“How many fingers? Can you read this? Do you know who I am from here?” Questions posed like tests, as though his body were a puzzle placed before them for amusement.

But from his duchess, it was different. He leaned nearer, just enough that his words belonged to only her. Her stillness deepened. The blush—yes, he was certain now—remained.

“I see enough to never let you out of my sight.”

Her Grace lowered her gaze and exhaled a shaky breath. She stepped fully into the carriage, and Hector let her go only when the movement required it.

The loss of contact was absurdly noticeable as he followed her in.

Chapter Eight

“Welcome home, duchess.” Hector had spent the journey aware of every inch between his shoulder and the duchess’s sleeve.

His wife. The word had sat beside him in the dark like a third passenger.

She had been closer to him than she had ever been before, but not close enough to touch unless the carriage lurched. And she had kept her face angled toward the window, so he still did not learn the color of her eyes.

“The gardens are beautiful.” She looked around; her gown began to glow in the fading sun.

Hector questioned the irritation he felt at not truly seeing her. There were many things he could not see, and he had learned not to resent each missing detail because resentment wasted time and strength.

Besides, a man could govern a household, a dukedom, and himself without knowing whether the curtains were blue or green. He could hear a lie before most men saw it. He could tell from the air in a room whether servants were afraid, idle, or concealing damage.

Still, he wanted to know how deep the color of her blush was.

“You will be overseeing the gardens from now on as one of your duties as the duchess.” She looked at him then, and his throat felt dry.

“These gardens?” She looked around wide-eyed.

“Yes, you will order the workers on what to do and oversee it. What seems to be the issue?” Hector raised a brow at her.

“Nothing. It is just…huge. What if I fail and ruin its beauty?” She sounded deeply troubled.

“If I could do everything semi-blind, then you can do things better.” Hector did not look at her then, but he felt her eyes on him.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and quietly accepted his words and her new duties.

“All right, then I shall do my best and fulfill my duties.” She turned around and faced the towering house. “So, this is our new home.”

Home.

Hector had never thought of it as such, as he remembered the loneliness within its walls.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” He tapped the ground with his cane and offered her his hand. He was not sentimental enough to make a performance of it, but when she accepted and placed her gloved fingers in his palm, Hector felt a wave of warmth rush through him.

They fit perfectly.

The butler opened the entrance hall door.

“Welcome home, The Duke and Duchess of Sterling.” Mr. Clarke’s introduction was quiet, as they did not wish to wake the household and cause some whispers.

The Duchess had gone still beside him, and Hector wondered what she saw.

Grandeur, perhaps. Or severity?