Page 21 of The Duke’s Caught Bride

Alice rested her palms flat against the cool surface of the table. “They test me because they do not know me yet. They want to find out what happens when they misbehave. Whether I will send them away, become angry, or leave.”

Kenneth’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, his tense shoulders relaxing by a fraction of an inch.

“They need boundaries,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And consequences.”

“Yes.”

“Then we agree.”

“Not entirely.”

His dark eyes narrowed under the dim chandelier light.

Alice breathed in the rich scent of beeswax polish and damp autumn night pressing against the tall draperies.

“You provide everything they could ever need,” she continued. “A beautiful home. A governess. Horses. Clothes. Safety. But they do not need another servant to provide those things.”

His gaze returned to hers, piercing and unreadable.

“They need you to sit beside them at breakfast. They need you to ask about their lessons. They need you to know which one hates peas and which one pretends to hate them because his brother does.”

Despite himself, something almost resembling amusement touched his mouth, a subtle softening of his austere lips.

Almost.

Alice smiled faintly.

“They need to know that when they make a mistake, their father will still be there afterward,” she added.

Kenneth’s expression became guarded again, the shutter falling back into place. “You make it sound very simple.”

She shook her head, watching the firelight dance in the ruby depths of his untouched wine glass. “I imagine it is anything but.”

At last, Kenneth moved around the table, the rhythmic thud of his boots heavy on the rug. Alice’s pulse quickened, a sudden warmth blooming in her chest as he stopped beside her chair.

“You are asking me to change the way I raise them,” he said, towering over her.

“I am asking you to be part of their lives.”

Something flickered across his face. Not anger this time, but something raw and far more vulnerable.

For several seconds, he said nothing. The room shrank until there was only the hiss of the dying fire and the sound of his breathing.

Then he bent down towards her, resting his hands on either side of her chair’s armrests. He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the crisp wool of his jacket and the clean, woodsy scent of sandalwood soap.

His voice, when it came, was quieter. “You are patient with them.”

Alice looked up, meeting his gaze. “I am.”

“More patient than I expected.” There was the faintest hint of reluctant admiration in his tone.

“I suppose that is a compliment.”

“It is.”