Chapter 4 #3
She had no solution for this situation. She had no real plan anymore. She had walked into Langley Hall believing she would take Liliana and disappear. Now she sat on the nursery floor watching a duke read, and all she could think was that Yvette would have liked him.
That is not useful, she told herself firmly. Stop it.
The duke looked up again. “You are staring, Miss Hartley.”
“I was not staring, Your Grace. I was thinking.”
“About what?”
About how I am going to steal your baby and you will hate me for the rest of your life.
“About whether Liliana has had her morning milk,” she said instead. “Mrs. Cooper told me she had been fed, but she did not say when.”
“She was fed at half past seven. I was here.”
You were here? You stayed for her morning feeding?
Thelma looked down at Liliana. The baby had fallen asleep against her chest. Her small body felt warm and heavy, her breathing soft and even.
You sat in that chair and watched her eat, Thelma thought, glancing back at the duke. You are not supposed to do that. You are supposed to be distant and indifferent. You are supposed to be easy to leave behind.
He was none of those things.
The morning passed in a strange, quiet rhythm.
The duke continued reading his book. Thelma stayed on the floor with Liliana in her arms. Neither of them spoke.
It should have felt awkward, sitting in silence with her employer like that, but it did not.
It felt almost comfortable, which only made everything worse.
At one point, Liliana woke and began to fuss. Thelma shifted her to her shoulder and patted her back gently, the same motion she had done a thousand times before. The duke looked up from his book.
“She likes to be bounced,” he said.
“I know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You know?”
“I mean, I assumed,” Thelma corrected quickly. “Most babies do.”
He watched her for a moment longer. Then he set his book aside and crouched down in front of Liliana, so he was at her eye level. He did not kneel. He crouched, steady and patient, so she could see his face clearly.
“Hello, Liliana,” he said softly. “You are fussing again. You were not fussing five minutes ago. What changed?”
Liliana reached out and grabbed his finger.
The duke did not pull away. He let her hold on, let her examine his large hand with complete seriousness, as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. He simply waited.
He is good with her, Thelma thought. He is genuinely good with her.
She had not expected that either.
Eventually, the Duke stood up. He looked at Thelma, and for a moment neither of them said anything. She stood as well, merely out of propriety though she wasn’t sure whether she had needed to.
Then he walked toward the door. As he passed, his arm brushed against hers in the doorway. It was only a small, accidental touch, the kind that happened when two people moved through the same space at the same time. Yet Thelma felt it like a spark of warmth that spread through her entire body.
“Good morning, Miss Hartley,” he said.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
He left. The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
Thelma returned to sit on the floor with Liliana in her arms and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
That was nothing, she told herself. He brushed your arm by accident. It meant nothing.
She did not believe her own words.
That night, Thelma lay in her narrow bed with her small bag already packed and waiting by the door.
She had gone over every possible plan for leaving.
The service gate. The north road. The coach to London.
The long journey north to her mother’s sister in Scotland.
She had mapped out the routes, the costs, and all the lies she would need to tell.
None of the plans ended well.
No legal documents, she thought. Not enough money. A powerful duke with every resource at his command.
She would not make it past the county line. She knew it. He would find her, take Liliana back, and she would never see her niece again.
She turned her head and looked across the room at the crib. Liliana slept peacefully, her small chest rising and falling, her dark hair spread across the pillow like a whisper.
The nursery had been assembled almost overnight. Someone had chosen the curtains, the blanket, and the books with care. Someone had hurried to make this space warm and welcoming for a baby who had arrived without warning.
He did that, she thought. He did not have to, and he did it anyway.
For the first time since she had arrived at Langley Hall, Thelma wondered whether taking Liliana away from this house would be saving her or punishing her for being loved by the wrong person.
She got out of bed and walked over to the crib. She stood there for a long time, looking down at her sleeping niece. She thought about cold nights on the road, about uncertainty, about fear. She thought about the duke crouching in front of Liliana, letting her hold his finger with such patience.
Thelma went back to bed.
She did not unpack her bag. But she did not leave either.
The service gate would still be there in the morning. She would decide then.
She closed her eyes, listened to Liliana’s soft breathing, and stayed.