Chapter 12 #2
Tomorrow, she would slip out through the service gate. Tomorrow, she would take Liliana north, where no one knew them.
But every morning she found herself here again, caught in the rhythm of this house, in the way Liliana had begun to thrive, in the quiet way this man looked at her niece as though she belonged.
Did my father send her here because he knew the duke would care like this?
The question twisted inside her. Had her father known Roman Berengar at all? Had he understood that beneath the title was a man who would sit on the floor and listen to baby babble with the same gravity he gave to important estate matters?
“Miss Hartley?” The duke’s voice pulled her back. He was looking at her now, those gray-green eyes steady and curious. “You seem far away this morning. Is everything all right?”
Thelma forced a small smile, smoothing her hands over her lap to hide their slight tremble. “Quite all right, Your Grace. I was only thinking that the garden does need attention. The roses in particular looked a bit tired on our walk yesterday.”
He nodded, accepting the change of subject. “I thought the same. Perhaps we might walk the east garden together one afternoon? You seem to have useful ideas about drainage and soil. I would value your thoughts.”
The offer hung between them, simple on the surface but laced with something warmer. Thelma felt heat rise in her cheeks. She looked down at Liliana, who had begun to fuss and reach for her.
“I would be happy to offer what little I know,” she said softly, reaching out to take the baby.
Their fingers brushed as the duke passed Liliana over.
The contact lingered a fraction longer than necessary, sending another quiet spark up her arm.
She settled the baby against her shoulder, breathing in her familiar scent.
The duke rose from the floor in one fluid motion, brushing dust from his trousers. He stood tall above them, yet his expression remained gentle. “I have kept you both long enough. Thank you for allowing me to intrude on your morning, Miss Hartley.”
“It is never an intrusion, Your Grace,” Thelma replied before she could stop herself.
Their eyes met again. Then Liliana patted Thelma’s cheek and broke the moment. The duke gave a small nod and left, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Thelma sank back onto the rug, holding Liliana close.
I cannot take you away from this, she thought, pressing her lips to the baby’s dark curls. Not when he looks at you like that. Not when this house is beginning to feel like home.
The rest of the day passed in a quiet blur of nursery duties and garden walks. But the image of the duke on the floor stayed with her, refusing to fade.
***
That night, after Liliana had been fed, changed, and settled into her crib, Thelma sat at the small writing desk in her room. The house had grown still around her. She lit a single candle, its flame flickering across the paper she had taken from the drawer.
Her hand hovered for a long moment before she began to write.
Dearest Yvette,
I do not know if you can read these letters wherever you are, but I write them anyway. Tonight I need to tell you about this place. About him.
She paused, biting her lip, then continued.
The duke sat on the nursery floor this morning. On the floor, Yvette. Liliana was using his arm like a ladder and babbling at him as though she were giving orders to the entire estate. And he listened.
Truly listened, with the same patience he gives to grown men discussing important matters. When she nearly fell, he caught her without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Thelma’s pen moved faster now, the words pouring out.
There is a cook here named Patricia. She pours tea without asking and asks the hard questions without pushing for answers I cannot give.
She lost her mother young, and she understands grief in a way that makes the kitchen feel safe.
I told her about having a sister. I did not say it was you, but I think she knew I was speaking of someone who mattered.
She set the pen down for a moment, staring at the flame.
I came here to take Liliana away. That was my only purpose.
Find her, take her north to our aunt, and disappear from this life.
But now... I am no longer sure that is the right thing to do.
He cares for her, Yvette. In a way I did not expect any man, let alone a duke, to care for a child who is not his.
And Liliana reaches for him as though she has always known him.
Thelma’s vision blurred. She wiped her eyes quickly and kept writing.
Every day I tell myself tomorrow I will leave. Tomorrow I will pack the bag and go. But tomorrow comes, and I find myself in the garden with them both, or in the nursery watching him listen to her nonsense, and the plan feels further away than ever.
She folded the letter carefully, pressing the edges smooth with trembling fingers. Then she lifted the lining of her bag and slipped it inside. It was the first time she had written a letter to Yvette since she died.
It felt slightly mad. But the candle was still lit, and there was no one to talk to who did not require a lie, and Yvette had always been the one she told things to.
Thelma closed the bag and pushed it back under the bed. She blew out the candle and lay down, staring at the dark ceiling.