Page 5 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

For a moment the title lost meaning, clear and distant like a bell in fog until she came to and curtseyed in the seated man’s direction.

“Good day, Your Grace,” she said quietly.

The duke’s shoulders were broad, and dark hair framed his striking face. The darkness was stark against his pale skin. He did not stand up to greet her. One strong hand gripped a cane, knotted around it hard enough to make the tendons visible beneath the skin. Poppy thought it was a bit odd that a man of his age carried a cane, but many gentlemen carried canes as ornaments or some sort of fashion.

Nevertheless, it did not trouble her as much as his eyes did. Poppy thought that perhaps she was too far away from him, but his eyes seemed very pale from where she stood. They were light gray like the winter water under a clear sky, and they looked toward where she stood but did not truly settle on her face. She felt drawn to the mystery of his gaze, and a rush of heat bloomed from the pit of her stomach. Poppy’s pulse quickened unexpectedly; she frowned, unsure as to why her body and mind reacted in such a manner to this alluring man. The duke inclined his head briefly in her direction. His hand remained on the cane, but he was silent.

“Is this the lady who has been visiting my nieces an unusual number of times?” the duke asked impatiently instead of acknowledging her.

Poppy flinched at the sound of his low voice and the accusation.

She stared at him until his words landed heavily on her. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. Did you say your nieces?”

“Yes, are you the lady who has been visiting my nieces, Aurora and her sister?” He repeated himself slowly as if he were speaking to a child.

Her uncle shifted nervously, and Aunt Violet drew in a breath. But Poppy spoke despite her fear and offense at how he described her. All her shyness disappeared and was replaced with unseen strength.

“If you are speaking about the lady who visits orphaned children at Saint Catherine’s Haven, then I am standing before you, Your Grace.” She tilted her chin defiantly at him, but he still seemed to look right through her.

Lord Bendon cleared his throat, and the duke’s head turned attentively toward him. “Pardon my niece, Your Grace; she is the one you are looking for.”

“May I ask who decided my visits were… unusual?” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

Poppy ignored her uncle’s glare.

“The report I received stated that the girls had become attached to you. Too attached,” the duke muttered.

Poppy gaped slightly, then quickly shut her mouth. “They are orphaned.” Silence settled over the room. “How attached do you imagine orphaned children ought to become to the first person who shows them kindness?”

The duke’s expression did not change.

“Attachment can become dependence.”

“Aurora did not speak for nearly a week after arriving. Her baby sister cried until she exhausted herself. If they have become attached to me…” She met his pale gaze. “…it is because no one else came.”

Something unreadable crossed his face.

“Your concern is appreciated,” he said after a pause. “But I came to bring them home.”

Her aunt murmured next to her, “Poppy, my dear⁠—”

But Poppy’s heart dropped at the news. “Bring them home?”

“Today.”

Every muscle in her body tightened.

“Your Grace…” She struggled to steady her voice. “You cannot simply arrive and expect them to leave with a stranger.”

“I am not a stranger.”

“To those girls, you are.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

The duke’s jaw tightened. “I am their uncle.”

“And if that’s true, legally you have every right to them.” Poppy nodded once. “But rights and trust are not the same thing.”

She ignored the warning glances from her guardians.