Chapter 5 #2
“I’m quite capable,” Rose cut in gently, but firmly. She softened the command with a small nod. “Truly. I only want some time with her.”
The maid glanced from Rose to the baby, then back again, clearly weighing propriety against practicality.
“If you are certain, my lady…”
“I am.”
A brief pause followed, then the maid gave a reluctant curtsy. “Very well. If you should need anything, I will be just down the corridor.”
“Thank you,” Rose said, taking Lizzie carefully into her arms.
The maid lingered a moment longer, as though still unconvinced, before finally retreating with one last curtsy and closing the door softly behind her.
Now alone with the child, Lizzie’s head rested on Rose’s chest. Rose shifted her weight more carefully, adjusting the small bundle against her as Lizzie’s breathing began to even out.
The nursery had gone quiet in that deep, suspended way houses did at night, with candles guttering low, the faint scent of lavender and warmed milk clinging to the air.
Softly, under her breath, she began to sing.
The lullaby was simple; one she did not remember being taught so much as absorbed over time from women who had nothing but their voices to soothe the restless. The words were old-fashioned, half-whispered, carried on the rhythm of her steps as she paced the room.
“Hush now, little heart of mine…
The world can wait until the dawn…”
Her voice barely rose above the rustle of fabric and the soft cadence of her movement. Lizzie stirred once and made a faint sound in her throat, then settled more fully against her, small fingers loosening their grip as sleep took her deeper.
Rose continued, turning slowly beneath the low glow of the lamp. Her eyes lowered to the child’s face rather than the room around her.
“Hush now, little one, be still…
No harm shall come; no shadow will…”
A floorboard creaked somewhere beyond the door.
The sound cut through the quiet like a note gone wrong.
“You take extraordinary care of her,” a familiar voice said quietly. “I don’t think she could have found better.”
Rose stopped mid-breath. The lullaby faded on her lips as she turned.
The duke stood in the threshold, half-shadowed, as though he had no intention of announcing himself to the house at large and had simply decided the rules did not apply to him tonight.
His gaze found her immediately, and then, more precisely, the child in her arms.
Rose smiled, and this time it felt real. “She’s an easy child. She only cries when she’s hungry or tired. She wants for so little.”
“You have a lovely voice, as well,” he whispered.
Rose was surprised to feel her face growing flushed and hot. She looked down, blinking rapidly, and focused on the steady rise and fall of Lizzie’s chest. The silence drifted again, then she stood, the motion calculated to not wake Lizzie.
“We should leave her to her quiet,” she said, not meeting the duke’s eyes. “She needs rest.”
He nodded and stepped aside, allowing Rose to walk past him. She laid Lizzie down in her crib, tucking the blanket around her with infinite care. For a moment, she watched the baby sleep, all while admiring the curve of her cheek and the fist curled at her mouth.
When she turned towards the doorway, the duke stepped out from the dark, as if he had been caught by surprise and was not waiting for her.
“Are you well?” he asked.
Rose tried to laugh, but it came out as a puff of air. “I imagine I am as well as can be expected.”
The duke said nothing, but the silence pressed her to continue.
“You didn’t have to defend me in front of my parents. But… thank you,” she said.
“You’re going to be my wife, Lady Rose. It’s my duty,” he said matter-of-factly.
She tilted her head to the side. How could this man speak of duty? How could he when Julia had found herself…
She shook her head, the exhaustion settling in. It was too late to fight him again.
“Either way, I hope they won’t be any more bothersome than today. It’s not the first time I’ve disappointed them.”
“It should not be so easy for them to speak to you in such a manner.”
Rose felt the heat rise up her neck before defending them as she had always done. “They did their duty. I’m not sure what else anyone could expect.”
Even she struggled to believe her words these days. It was difficult to forget that they had disowned her after yet another failed Season, and then she had been sent away.
The duke crossed the hallway. He did not touch her, but the presence of him at her side was overwhelming. “Do you seriously believe that? You were abandoned because you didn’t meet their criteria. Your parents were cruel. I don’t like cruelty, not from family.”
Rose snorted. “I find that difficult to believe, given the rumors about your own.”
He smiled, a sharp, private thing. “Perhaps that’s why I have little patience for it now.”
“I survived it.”
The duke watched her for a long moment. Then, in a voice much lower, he said, “It is not always about surviving.”
Rose blinked, caught off guard by the intensity. “What else is there?”
He hesitated, confidence flickering. “Sometimes it is about demanding better.”
“Some people don’t get to demand.”
He leaned in, his voice pitched only for her. “You do.”
Rose could feel the scrutiny of his gaze, hot and unyielding, and she longed to retreat, but something rooted her in place.
Her lips parted. “I hope to give Lizzie a world where someone always comes when she cries.”
His face softened, just for a second. “You are making that world.” Then, he spoke so softly the sound could hardly be called a whisper at all. “If I had known about Julia’s condition…about the baby, I would have—”
Rose shook her head. “It’s too late for that.”
“It isn’t too late for you. Or for Lizzie.” His mouth tightened as he reached out. His hand hovered for a moment before closing gently around her wrist.
Rose felt the heat of his skin radiating up her arm, settling somewhere beneath her ribs. Their eyes met in the half-darkness, and when the duke traced his gaze down her face, she pulled away.
“I—I must go,” she whispered, her voice betraying her. “It is late, and I need to sleep. Goodnight, Your Grace.”
She slipped past him through the doorway, feeling his gaze following her long after she had disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.