Page 57 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“Mrs. Patterson,” he said. “Please bring Miss Aurora here and the Duchess as well.”

“At once, Your Grace.” Her skirts withdrew with a soft, efficient rustle.

When she left, Hector remained standing behind his desk, one hand resting on the head of his cane as he faced the closet. He could make out little more than a vertical darkness set into the wall. It had been finished that morning.

The carpenter had been instructed to work quietly, to ask no questions, and to be gone before the nursery hours shifted. Mrs. Patterson had supervised the cleaning afterward, and Jonathan had reported that the hinges made no sound and that the interior was safe for a child inclined to crawl into places adults did not expect her to fit.

He heard them before Mrs. Patterson announced them. Aurora’s steps were quick and uneven, a small patter interrupted by little skips of impatience. The duchesses’s were slower and graceful. She had a way of entering a room without claiming it, and yet changing its balance the moment she crossed the threshold.

Mrs. Patterson appeared first, thankfully directing his thoughts to reality.

“Miss Aurora and Her Grace.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Patterson. Bring them in.”

Aurora came ahead of Her Grace, as Hector had expected. He admired her childish curiosity. Her small figure flashed brightly in his imperfect vision.

“Uncle Hector?” she asked without stuttering again.

The memories in the maze were still fresh in his mind and heart, and even then, as she began to speak more clearly around him, it tugged at his heartstrings.

He inclined his head. “Aurora.”

“Have I done s…s…something wrong?” She shied away.

“No,” he said quickly. “You have done nothing.”

Her Grace stood just behind the child. Hector could not see her expression clearly, but he felt the direction of her attention. She was watching him, as she often did when she thought he might mishandle some tender matter. She did not interfere, and that restraint was one of the things he respected about her. She was giving him a chance.

He turned slightly toward Mrs. Patterson.

“Mrs. Patterson has something to show you,” he motioned toward her.

Aurora pivoted at once. “For me?”

Mrs. Patterson’s expression softened. “Yes, Miss Aurora. His Grace wished you to be brought here so that you might see it properly.”

Hector followed them to the closet.

“There is,” she continued, “a new closet made especially for you.”

Aurora stood still, then looked toward Hector. “A new closet for me?”

The duchess turned to him too, questioningly.

He allowed the corner of his mouth to move. “Yes, all for you.”

Mrs. Patterson crossed to the closet door and opened it. Hector listened to her reaction. Aurora’s breath caught. Her shoes tapped twice as she ran to the closet, then stopped. A hand brushed the doorframe. The old wood, newly polished, answered faintly beneath her little fingers.

Then she gasped.

“Oh, Poppy, look!”

No one spoke. Even Her Grace seemed to understand that the first sight of a gift belonged to the child. Aurora took one step inside. Then another.

“This is all mine?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Hector said as he smiled.