Page 67 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

She frowned. “We were merely laughing.”

“There was shrieking upon my entrance. That is beneath the dignity of a duke’s estate.”

His words made her flinch. “Aurora is a child. You cannot expect her to keep silent at all times.”

“You have been encouraging her toward disorder.”

She drew in a breath, and he felt her temper in it before she spoke. “May I remind you that Aurora and Princess have spent most of their lives frightened of being inconvenient. I will not apologize for allowing them to laugh.”

His voice rose slightly. “You are failing at raising these children.”

Hector regretted his words as soon as they left his lips.

“You think I am failing them because they are happy for half an hour⁠—”

He turned his head in the direction of her eyeline. Aurora stood at the entrance with a bright smile that was quickly vanishing.

How long has she been listening?

Her joyful expression was quickly replaced by fear. Hector felt the change like a blow beneath the ribs. Aurora stood with her hands gathered close to her body, and Her Grace attended to her at once. “There you are.”

The child did not look away from Hector.

He had frightened grown men before, but this was a child of four years. She was his niece and his responsibility. The guilt ate at him for causing a little girl to lose her smile.

When he spoke again, he stripped the command from his voice with care, leaving it softer than he was accustomed to hearing from himself.

“Good afternoon, Aurora.”

Her gaze shifted to the duchess, then back.

“G-good afternoon, Uncle.”

The stutter was slight, but it was enough to tell him everything. Hector felt his anger rise with such swiftness.

He had done that.

Her Grace crossed to Aurora. Her movement was calm, but Hector heard the protective urgency about it. “Come along, my darling. I think Princess will want us soon.”

Aurora took her hand immediately. The ease and eagerness of it was another small wound. Hector stood aside as they approached the door. The duchess passed near enough that her skirt whispered against the air between them. Aurora moved on the duchess’s far side, using her as a shield without quite meaning to.

“Duchess,” Hector called to her quietly so only she could hear him.

She stopped nearby, her shoulders tensed in the way they always did when he reminded her of her title. Hector ignored the temptation to reach for her again.

“When Aurora is asleep,” he said, “come to my study.”

She studied him briefly. “Very well.”

Aurora’s hand tightened around hers before she turned and led the girl away. Their footsteps faded down the corridor as Hector remained where he was and his hand still remembering the beat of his wife’s pulse.

Poppy waited until Aurora’s breathing had settled into the deep, even rhythm of sleep before she left the room.

She stood a moment beside the bed, looking down at the small shape beneath the covers. The day had exhausted the child. Laughter always did, though in a kinder way than crying. Aurora had resisted sleep at first, asking whether Uncle Hector was angry or she had done something wrong, and finally she asked whether Poppy would be nearby.

Poppy had answered each question with more certainty than she possessed.

No, he is not angry. No, you have done nothing wrong. Yes, I will be nearby.