Chapter 8
Thelma drew in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air as she carried Liliana along the winding gravel path of the east garden. The morning light filtered gently through the turning leaves, casting soft patterns across the lawn that still held traces of dew.
Nine days. She had been living a careful deception at Langley Hall for nine days, and each one seemed to make her position both more secure and more impossible.
How have I let it go on this long? she thought, adjusting her grip on the warm bundle in her arms.
Liliana wriggled happily, one small hand reaching out to bat at a low-hanging branch. The child had grown noticeably stronger and more curious in this short time, her dark hair catching the light and her gray eyes bright with the simple joy of being outdoors.
Thelma knew every corner of the estate by now, the servants’ schedules, the quiet hours when the side gates were least watched, even the particular creak of the third step on the back staircase. She had lain awake for hours the previous night, turning over her plan until it felt almost solid.
Scotland. Her mother’s sister lived there, married to a modest landowner who might, with enough pleading, offer them shelter. Thelma had enough saved from her small wages for the coach journey north if she was careful.
She only needed the right moment, a quiet afternoon when the duke was occupied with estate business and the household’s attention was elsewhere. Then she could slip away with Liliana and leave it all behind her.
But even as the thought formed, Liliana let out a delighted gurgle and patted Thelma’s cheek with a sticky little hand. Thelma’s heart twisted.
She is so happy here. Warmer. Safer than I could make her on the road.
“Little one, what am I going to do with you?” Thelma whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
The sound of male voices approaching pulled her from her thoughts. The duke and Lord Ashmore were returning from the stables, their boots crunching on the gravel.
The duke walked with that familiar measured stride, his broad shoulders straight beneath his dark coat, chestnut hair slightly windswept. Lord Ashmore moved beside him with his usual effortless charm, blonde hair catching the light.
They both slowed when they saw her.
“Good morning, Miss Hartley,” the duke said, his deep voice carrying that quiet authority she had come to recognize. His gray-green eyes met hers for a moment longer than strictly necessary before dropping to Liliana.
“Taking advantage of the fine weather?”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Thelma replied, offering a polite curtsy while keeping Liliana secure. “The east garden is particularly lovely at this hour. Liliana seems to enjoy the fresh air almost as much as I do.”
The duke smiled. “A wise choice. The stables were rather dusty this morning.”
Liliana twisted in Thelma’s arms at the sound of the duke’s voice, letting out an insistent little sound and stretching both arms toward him with single-minded determination. Thelma felt her stomach flutter.
the duke’s expression softened. “May I?” he asked.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
He stepped closer and lifted Liliana with practiced ease, one large hand supporting her back as he settled her against his shoulder.
The baby immediately tucked her head beneath his chin, her tiny fist curling into the fabric of his coat as though she had every right to be there.
She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes.
Thelma watched them, unable to look away.
A month ago, she would scream if anyone but me, held her for more than a minute. Now she seeks him out as though he has always been hers.
The sight stirred something deep in her chest, a dangerous warmth that had nothing to do with the pale sunlight. Roman Berengar, Duke of Langley, was not the cold, distant man she had imagined before arriving. He was patient and careful and far more dangerous because of it.
“You have quite the admirer there, Langley,” Orson remarked with a chuckle. “I do not believe I have ever seen the young lady so peacefully settled.”
The duke’s hand moved in slow circles on Liliana’s back. “It appears the feeling is mutual. Though I suspect it has less to do with me and more to do with the fact that I am tall enough to see over the garden wall. She seems fascinated by everything beyond it.”
Thelma found herself smiling before she could stop it. “She has been very curious lately. Yesterday she tried to pull down one of the nursery curtains twice.”
The duke’s eyes met hers over Liliana’s head, and there was a spark of shared amusement there that made Thelma’s pulse quicken. “I shall have to speak with the curtains about standing firm against such determined opposition.”
Orson cleared his throat lightly. “And how are you finding life at Langley, Miss Hartley? Nine days is enough time to form an opinion, I should think. The household can be rather... formal at times.”
“It has been very pleasant, my lord,” she answered smoothly. “Everyone has been most welcoming, and Liliana is a joy to care for. The nursery is exceptionally well prepared. I have rarely seen one arranged with such thoughtfulness.”
The duke shifted Liliana slightly. “I am glad to hear it. She seems happier these past few days. More settled.”
“She is,” Thelma said softly. “Children know when they are safe.”
A comfortable silence fell for a moment, broken only by the distant call of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. Thelma found herself studying the duke’s profile as he looked down at Liliana, the way his strong features gentled when the baby was near.
He should not be this kind. It makes everything so much harder.
The sound of approaching hooves interrupted them. A woman on a fine bay mare rode up to the low stone wall bordering the garden, reining in with confident ease. Her dark hair was pinned neatly, and her riding habit was practical yet elegant.
“Langley!” she called out cheerfully. “I see the rumors have reached even the east garden.”
The duke turned, still holding Liliana. “Miss Upperton. Good morning to you. I trust all is well at Upperton House?”
Nicolette Upperton dismounted gracefully and looped her reins over a post. “Well enough, though I suspect your friend and I will have words again soon about those eastern boundary maps.” Her gaze moved to Liliana, then to Thelma, taking them in with open curiosity.
“So this is the little one causing all the talk. She has rather striking eyes, does she not?”
The duke’s voice remained calm and even. “The rumors are only partly true, as they usually are. I am not the child’s father.”
Nicolette laughed, a bright sound that seemed to fill the garden.
“Well, that is a relief for the gossipmongers. They were running out of scandals. The county has been dreadfully dull lately. We needed something interesting to carry us through the winter months.” She glanced past the duke to Lord Ashmore, who had remained unusually quiet.
“And you must be Viscount Ashmore. I have heard a great deal about you. I must say, I expected someone taller.”
Lord Ashmore’s eyebrows rose, but his mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “My deepest apologies for disappointing you, Miss Upperton. Next time I shall endeavor to wear higher boots.”
“See that you do,” Nicolette replied with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“I dislike having to look up at people when I am arguing with them about land taxes.” She swung back into the saddle with athletic grace.
“I will send those maps over tomorrow, Langley. Try not to let your friend lose them in that vast study of his.”
With a nod to Thelma and one final amused look at Lord Ashmore, she touched her heels to the mare’s sides and rode off down the path.
Lord Ashmore watched her retreating figure for several long seconds, saying nothing. The silence was so unlike him that Thelma nearly smiled despite herself.
Liliana began to stir and fuss against the duke’s shoulder, rubbing her eyes with one small fist.
“It is nearly time for her nap,” Thelma said, stepping forward. “If you will excuse us, Your Grace, my lord.”
The duke carefully transferred the baby back into her arms. His fingers brushed hers during the exchange, sending an unexpected spark up her arm. For the briefest moment, their eyes met, and Thelma felt her breath catch.
“Of course,” the duke said quietly. “Thank you for allowing me a moment with her, Miss Hartley.”
As Thelma walked back toward the house with Liliana growing heavier in her arms, she could feel the weight of both men’s gazes on her back. Her heart beat faster than the gentle pace of her steps could explain.
This is becoming far too complicated, she thought. I need to leave before it becomes impossible.
Thelma carried Liliana back to the nursery, her arms steady even as her mind raced. The baby had grown heavy against her shoulder during the short walk, her breathing already deepening into the soft rhythms of impending sleep.
Once inside the familiar room, Thelma lowered her gently into the crib, tucking the soft wool blanket around the small form with practiced care. Liliana stirred once, one tiny fist clutching at the air before settling with a sigh.
Thelma stood there for a long moment, gazing down at the child who had become the center of her world.
Nine days. Nine days of watching you bloom in this house, and every hour makes my plan feel like a betrayal.
Her fingers lingered on the edge of the blanket. Scotland still waited, her aunt’s distant home a fragile lifeline she kept turning over in her mind. Yet the thought of bundling Liliana up in the dead of night, of facing uncertain roads and colder inns, twisted something deep inside her.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, willing the flutter of anxiety to subside.
I must be strong. For both of us.