Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“You were lucky today.” Yvette pulled the blankets up to cover Hugh’s body and chest, tucking him in nice and tight. “You could have been seriously injured.”
“I know,” he said with a wince. “I just… I just got excited.”
She laughed. “Didn’t we all. But from what I was told, your injuries are little more than some deep bruising. And boys your age should be covered in bruises.” She winked. “It’s how you know they’re having a good time.”
Hugh was tucked into bed. The fire in the hearth simmered softly.
It was getting late, Yvette was starting to feel tired, and she could tell from Hugh’s demeanor that he was the same.
But there was something else wrong… something that clearly sat on his mind so that he could hardly bring himself to look at her.
“Hugh, is something the matter?”
“No,” he said a little too quickly.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Shall we try that again? Without the lie this time.” She laughed and stroked his cheek; a natural inclination she had to show him that she was there for him.
He sighed and looked away. “The Duke… he heard me stutter.”
She noticed that he still called his father ‘the Duke,’ but she chose not to bring it to attention. That will change… in time.
“I know,” she said gently.
“Did he say anything?” Hugh looked at her desperately. “Did he… do you think that he’s… ashamed of me?”
“Listen to me.” She made sure to be looking right at Hugh when she spoke, needing him to see the truth in her eyes. “The Duke is your father, Hugh. He loves you, no matter what.”
“But –”
“But nothing,” she cut him off. “Stutter or no, he does not care. Do you want to know what I saw today? I did not see shame. I did not see disappointment. What I saw was a father who was terrified that his son would hurt himself, as well as relieved when he realized that he hadn’t. That is all.”
Hugh did not look convinced. “Maybe…”
“He does not care about the stutter, Hugh.” Again, she stroked his cheek. “I promise you.”
Yvette believed what she said. Having watched the Duke care for Hugh after his fall, she saw no hint at all that he gave a damn that his son stuttered and stammered. Really, there was no reason that he should.
Just as she knew this, she also knew that she did not know the Duke nearly so well to be sure of such a thing, and her words were little more than made-up assurances to make Hugh feel better.
What if the Duke was acting that way on purpose because she was there?
What if, when he was alone with Hugh, things were different?
These thoughts plagued Yvette after she left Hugh to sleep.
She wandered from his room and down the halls, trying to confirm the truth of her words, while knowing that she was in no position to know them for fact. She just didn’t know the Duke nearly well enough to truly know what was on his mind.
It was because she was so in her own head that she did not realize where she was walking, and it was for this reason that she found herself walking past the drawing room when she really should have been making her way to her bedroom.
There was a light coming from inside the drawing room. She paused when she saw it and then looked around for a member of staff. They should have put out the flames before going to bed, but as she peered through the darkness and as she listened, she knew that they must have forgotten.
“Lucky for me then…” she said to herself as she entered the drawing room.
Indeed, the fire in the hearth still burned hot, and she sighed and shook her head as she crossed the room to put it out. Which she meant to do, crouching down by the fire, looking for a poker to separate the logs before smothering them with –
“It’s polite to ask before you do that, you know,” the Duke said suddenly.
“Oh!” Yvette cried out and fell backwards on her buttocks.
“Miss Norleigh!” The Duke had been sitting on the couch by the fire, hidden by the dark, invisible to all those who weren’t looking for him. But he leapt from the couch and fell to his knees beside Yvette the second that she fell. “Are you –”
“I’m fine,” she said a little too forcefully, embarrassment flooding her as she pushed herself to her knees. “Just… a little surprised, is all.”
“I’ll say.” The Duke stayed crouched, one hand out as if to catch her as she climbed to her feet. “That was an interesting noise you made just now.”
She scowled at him. “First you scare me, and then you mock me.”
“I needed something to lighten the mood. I’m sorry that your embarrassment is the only thing I could find to do that.”
“Who says that I am embarrassed?”
“No?” He stood up slowly, his towering body stretching tall over her. “I suppose those reddened cheeks are from the heat of the fire.”
Yvette’s cheeks flushed even redder than they were and she looked away before glancing at him and scowling playfully. “And what are you doing… lurking in the dark like this?”
He sighed and sat back down. Then, he picked up the glass of whiskey on the side table and took a sip. “Getting lost in my own thoughts, and drinking heavily.”
“A dangerous combination,” she joked.
“When done alone.” He raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Would you…” His eyes flicked to the space beside him. “Like to join me?”
Yvette hesitated, and for good reason.
Common sense told her to say no. It was late.
They were alone. And Yvette was not here to grow closer to the Duke.
In fact, she would have done better to just avoid him.
Not because of anything he had said or done, but because of who he was.
She was but the daughter of a vicar, he was a member of the peerage, and she knew the dangers of becoming attached.
But in that, she was here for Hugh, and if she wanted to help Hugh, then she had to get to know the Duke… right? And what better chance would she get than this?
It is not the best excuse I have ever come up with, but it will do for now.
She felt a flame flickering inside of her, excitement starting to build whenever she looked into the Duke’s dark blue eyes and saw that other side of him. It was a side that she liked, and one that she wanted to get to know better. Not for Hugh, but for herself.
“I suppose I can join you,” she sighed with exaggeration. “But only for a moment.”
“Somewhere you need to be?”
She sat down beside him, sure to keep a distance between them. “Yes. Bed.”
“I promise I won’t keep you. One drink.”
“One drink.” She eyed him warningly and then broke into a smile, which saw him laugh.
The bottle of whiskey sat beside the Duke, and he poured her a glass. She took a sip, sucked through her teeth, and had another.
“I think she likes it,” he joked.
“I don’t hate it,” she admitted. “But I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Any reason?”
She almost told him about her father. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back, as if she was worried about giving him too much.
To tell him about her father’s drinking would force her to tell him why her father had started to drink in the first place.
That was one memory she was not willing to share.
The Duke was still a stranger, and despite everything, she did not know if she could trust him. Or herself, for that matter.
“I thought we were going to talk about you?” she said rightly.
“And why would you think that?”
“Forgive me for saying, but it looks to my eyes that you have something on your mind.” She shrugged and had another sip. “Hence, the drinking alone.”
He sighed and slunk into the coach. “Can it be more than one thing?” He took a deep sip of his drink. “I feel lately like the whole world rests on my shoulders as it slowly buries me where I sit.”
“How about we start with one thing,” she said gently, “and go from there.” She studied him closely, noting how tense he was, how awkward. “Might I ask you something?”
“It’s only fair that you do.” He had another long sip.
“Today…” Yvette considered how to phrase her question so that it would not sound accusatory or judgmental. “I do not know if you noticed, but Hugh has a stutter. A rather bad one, when he is nervous or afraid.” She eyed the Duke, but he said nothing. “I was… wondering what you thought of this.”
“What I thought?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I know that such things are considered a weakness by some men…” She swallowed as he continued to watch her closely; the fire reflected in his eyes and burned her. “That it is even thought of as an embarrassment.”
“And you wish to know if I plan on casting my own son out like a crippled monster?” He spoke with a knowing smirk. “Perhaps leave him in the wilderness to be adopted by wolves.”
“Do you?”
He scoffed. “Is that what you think of me?”
“I do not know what to think.” She took a sip of her drink, if for no other reason than to calm her shaking nerves; her body trembled with energy, made worse by how the Duke looked at her. “I do not know you at all, so I cannot possibly guess at your thoughts.”
“Well said.”
“Excuse me?”
“The way you worded your accusation –”
“It was not an accusation!”
“-- almost as if you were at fault, rather than me…” He smirked and shook his head as if at a joke. “I do hear what you're saying, Miss Norleigh, and I understand why you would think such things of me.” The Duke raised an eyebrow. “That I am so cruel and wicked that I would –”
“I did not say that,” she cut him off. “You are putting words in my mouth.”
“I am,” he agreed. “But am I wrong?”
Yvette went to argue… but she caught her words before they left her tongue. It would be a lie to say that she had not thought such things of the Duke. And while she now knew them to be false, she could not say for sure what he meant to do about Hugh’s stutter.
“My only concern is for Hugh,” she said carefully. “As, I thought, was yours.”