Chapter Three #2
Hattie froze and cringed before turning and fixing a smile upon her face. ‘Yes, Your Grace. My apologies. I was distracted in my travels to see you. I have never seen such an expansive library.’
‘It was my father’s greatest pride and joy,’ he replied. Hattie noted the tinge of sadness in his voice.
He must still miss him. His Grace had not been in his position for long from what she’d learned from the papers. ‘Then it is kind of you to have the door open, so everyone can view what he built over the years.’
His Grace crinkled his brow and considered what she had said. She couldn’t tell if he agreed with her words or not. ‘Shall we talk about your position here?’ he said, dropping their previous thread of conversation entirely. Had she offended him?
She didn’t even have a chance to reply before he turned and waited for her at the doorway to exit the room.
Drat. She’d already said and done the wrong thing.
She nodded to him and stepped out into the hallway, unsure of where to even go but forward.
He fell in step next to her. ‘My study is just here, Miss Potts,’ he said as she walked past an open door.
She stopped, closed her eyes and reminded herself she was doing all right and not to panic. Not yet anyway.
She walked into the study and was surprised by the warmth of it. It wasn’t the typical dark wood, heavy furniture, masculine sanctuary she’d expected from the novels she’d read about such men of means possessing, but a mixture of what one might expect of such a study and…a nursery.
There was a large desk covered with a stack of what appeared to be open ledgers, several ink pots and quills, and an overflowing silver salver with unopened correspondence and calling cards.
Next to it was an oversized reading chair and matching sofa in front of the fire.
Each held a collection of rumpled blankets and a handful of dolls and teddy bears.
She smiled at the sight of it. His daughter must be important to him. Her presence was everywhere.
He followed her gaze and at first attempted to straighten it and then stopped.
‘My daughter’s…’ he began and smiled, leaving the items where they were.
It was the first smile that seemed natural and reached his eyes, which softened all his features and made him far less imposing and very…
handsome. She decided she preferred viewing him as a father rather than His Grace.
She smiled in reply.
‘Please sit,’ he said, gesturing to the small pair of wooden chairs opposite his desk.
To her surprise, he sat in the opposite chair closest to her rather than behind the desk where she’d expected.
His proximity unnerved her, and she tucked her legs to the side and halfway under the chair to create as much distance between them as possible.
As much as she was loath to admit it, he frightened her, but most men did.
She just wasn’t comfortable being around them.
She’d had little practice and he was, well…
a duke. And an unseemly young and attractive one at that.
She had thought he might be old, grey, and bristly before she’d arrived.
This man seemed on the younger side of thirty, quite handsome, and well…
kind. He’d sent a carriage for her comfort and greeted her upon her arrival. She didn’t know what to make of him.
He studied her in silence. His blue eyes reminded her of his daughter as she’d peeked out of her chamber earlier when Hattie had passed and her dark-brown hair also seemed the same chestnut shade as his own, but without the curls.
His face was far different, though. He had a strong nose and brow line and his chin was sharp, almost severe in its angle, offsetting his tall, lean frame.
Her gaze caught sight of the portrait of a beautiful woman above the flickering hearth behind him.
‘Millie’s mother?’ Hattie asked, nodding to the painting behind him. ‘She is beautiful. Her heart-shaped face looks just like your daughter’s. I saw a glimpse of her when she peeked out of her bedchamber earlier.’
His features tightened and a muscle worked in his jaw. ‘Yes, that is the late Marchioness,’ he replied coolly, not even turning to glance at the painting.
Hattie pressed her lips together. Blast. Somehow, she’d blundered again. Perhaps her death was still too painful for him to speak of. She dared not say another word, so she sat frozen, waiting for him to continue.
He cleared his throat and pressed on, lifting his leg to rest on his knee. He appeared as uncomfortable as she felt, but why? He was a duke. Meeting with a governess to discuss the care of his daughter had to be one of the most trivial matters of his daily life.
‘I must confess that I have brought you here under rather dubious circumstances,’ he began.
Her stomach dropped, and she clutched her hands together tightly in her lap. Trudy and Ophelia were right. She was going to be forced into promiscuity. Her eyes widened. ‘I have no interest in being a…a…’ She finally sputtered out the word in lowered tones, ‘Trollop, Your Grace.’
He blanched. ‘Ah, no, no,’ he replied, uncrossing his legs and holding up a hand.
‘That is not at all what I was about to propose, Miss Potts. I would never…’ he said and then stopped, colour rising in his cheeks.
He ran a hand through his hair and released a chuckle.
‘If only you knew how far from the truth such a request would be from me.’
She nodded, released a shaky breath and replied in a rush. ‘I am relieved to hear it.’
‘What I meant to say is my daughter needs perhaps more care than you might expect.’ He looked at her and paused. ‘And, well, I do not know your experience or if you are up to the task. I should have said more about the level of care she will require.’
She leaned forward. ‘What do you mean? She seemed healthy and happy from what I saw of her. Is she ill?’
‘Physically, no, but emotionally…’ He paused and stood before walking quietly over to the mantel. He was moving far from her, making his discomfort even more obvious. Hattie’s pulse increased. What could be wrong with the sweet girl?
Hattie clutched her skirts as she waited for his reply.
‘She has not spoken since the day her mother died.’
Hattie released her grip on her gown and relaxed against the chair back. It was not nearly as dire as she had feared. ‘And how long ago was that?’
‘A little over a year ago. I thought she would heal and recover, but she hasn’t.
She has seen the best doctors and nurses and teachers, but nothing.
She remains silent.’ He turned to face her.
The agony in his features tugged at her sympathies.
She knew what feeling helpless felt like.
She wouldn’t wish such miseries on anyone.
‘I am so sorry, Your Grace.’
‘After my father passed, we moved here in hopes that the quiet and space away from the enquiring reporters, watchful gazes of the ton and noise of London might help her heal—help us heal—but even after being here two months, nothing has changed.’
‘It sounds as if she needs a specialist, or at least someone far more experienced than I. Why did you offer me the position, then?’ she asked, insecure and puzzled by his invitation for employment now that she knew of Millie’s plight.
He hesitated and watched her for a moment before continuing.
‘When you mentioned your past as an orphan… I thought you might understand Millie’s loss and how not having a mother might impact her in a way another wouldn’t.
And how you described your learning was…
inspired.’ He shrugged. ‘I picked you on instinct.’
It was rare Hattie was struck dumb, but it seemed the man had a penchant for it.
She didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or complimented.
She stared up at him and then dropped her gaze to her lap.
How she managed his words was her choice.
So, what would she choose? It was not too late to refuse.
She had only just arrived. Then she thought of the small girl with her wide blue eyes and cherub face peeking out the door at her earlier that afternoon.
Hattie understood that look and the fear of uncertainty accompanying it.
The girl deserved Hattie to at least try.
She lifted her head and matched the Duke of Wimberley’s gaze. ‘Then I shall try to live up to your expectations, Your Grace.’
He sighed and his shoulders dropped. ‘Thank you, Miss Potts. That is all I require.’ His relief was evident and she knew she’d made the right decision.
Just then, his daughter came rushing into the study and raised her open arms to him. He smiled and picked her up with ease. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘Well timed, my sweet,’ he cooed to his little girl as they touched noses. ‘This is my daughter, Millie, Miss Potts. And, Millie, this is Miss Potts…your new governess. You will have many adventures together.’
Hattie smiled at the little girl who watched her with hesitation, but said nothing.
She pressed her lips together and clutched her father more tightly.
The girl’s fear and silence pained Hattie more than she wished to admit, but she held her smile.
‘It’s very good to meet you, Lady Millie,’ she offered.
A young nurse came to the doorway out of breath. ‘My apologies, Your Grace. She wished to see you and I could not catch her in time.’
‘No apology needed, Miss Bellows. I know how fleet of foot she can be. Now run along, my girl, I must finish speaking with Miss Potts.’ He pressed a kiss to her cheek, set her down and the girl ran obediently to Miss Bellows.
The girl’s quietness reminded Hattie of herself when she had first arrived at the orphanage and a knot formed in Hattie’s stomach.
Looking at the young girl who had lost her mother so young was like looking at herself somehow.
It affected her more than she expected and the knot in her stomach grew until she feared she might be ill right there on His Grace’s lovely and quite expensive-looking rugs.
Once the nurse and her charge were out of earshot, His Grace approached Hattie, sat in the chair opposite her once more and leaned forward, his voice sincere and a pitch lower, and threaded with what sounded like desperation.
‘I am grateful for you being willing to try,’ he said.
‘In a fortnight, we will meet again to discuss the next steps, whether they are continued future employment here or travel plans back to Stow. Before then, I will expect a daily summary of your interactions with her and any updates on her progress.’
She nodded.
‘I can only imagine your fatigue from your journey. Please rest this afternoon and get settled in. Your time with Millie can begin in the morning. She usually rises at half past seven. Do you have any questions?’
Hattie had so many questions she didn’t know where to begin, but she swallowed them down along with her aching memories of her own childhood and shook her head. She set a protective smile on her face as she’d learned to do a thousand times before and replied, ‘Not at present, Your Grace.’
‘Then, it is settled. I will see you in the morning, Miss Potts.’ He stared at her and she realised this was her cue to leave.
She stood, gave a slight bow and left, her stomach still churning.
She exited the room and headed out of the Manor.
Fresh air would settle her as it always did.
No doubt, little Millie was probably the same.
Hattie sucked in one deep breath after another and lifted her face to the warm sun as the gravel crunched under her feet and she made her way to the lawn that led to the beautiful gardens and lake beyond it.
Her pulse settled and the knot in her stomach loosened its hold.
Just when she thought she’d left the memories of the past behind her, they had rushed to the surface and caught her off guard.
She released a shuddering breath. The Duke of Wimberley was right about one thing: she understood Millie and how she felt about losing her mother.
Hattie lifted her skirts and walked through a patch of thick grass, feeling more anchored and settled than she had in the opulence of Blithe Manor now that she had her feet planted firmly on the ground and fresh air rushed through her lungs.
The irony was not lost on her. She smiled.
She knew what she and Millie would do tomorrow morning that would set both their hearts and minds at ease at their first real meeting with one another.