Chapter 15
Roman was passing the morning room when he heard Miss Hartley’s voice drifting through the partially open door.
“I need to go into the village this morning,” she was saying to one of the maids. “Liliana is growing out of several things, and we are low on some of the ointments for her teething. I should not be long.”
Roman paused in the corridor, one hand resting on the doorframe. The idea formed almost instantly. He stepped into the room before he could talk himself out of it.
“Miss Hartley,” he said.
She turned, surprise flickering across her face. Liliana was on her hip, chewing contentedly on a wooden ring. “Your Grace.”
“I could not help overhearing. If you are going into the village, I will accompany you. There are a few matters I need to attend to myself.”
Miss Hartley’s eyes widened slightly. “That is not necessary, Your Grace. I am quite capable of…”
“I insist,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument. A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Besides, Liliana has been asking for an outing. She told me so this morning.”
The baby babbled as if in agreement, reaching one small hand toward him. Roman felt an absurd surge of satisfaction at the gesture.
His mother appeared in the doorway behind him, her posture rigid. She had clearly overheard the exchange. “Roman, you cannot be serious. Taking the child and the nursemaid into the village together will only feed the gossip. The ton already has enough to say about this situation.”
Roman turned to face his mother, his expression hardening. “Then let them talk. I will not hide in my own home as though I have done something shameful.”
His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This is not about shame. It is about appearances. A duke does not parade about the village with…”
“With a child under his care?” Roman finished, his voice cool. “Let them assume what they like. I have more important concerns than idle chatter.”
His mother held his gaze for a long moment, then gave a stiff nod and withdrew without another word. Roman turned back to Miss Hartley, who was watching the exchange with carefully neutral features, though he caught the slight widening of her eyes.
“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.
***
The journey to the village was the first time they had left the estate grounds together. Miss Hartley walked beside him along the lane, Liliana nestled securely in her arms.
The village was smaller than she had expected, a single high street of pale stone buildings with low signs and the smell of woodsmoke and fresh bread mixing in the cold air.
A woman outside the draper's shop paused with a bolt of cloth half-lifted to look at them.
Two men talking outside the blacksmith's went quiet.
Thelma kept her eyes forward and her expression pleasant.
The baby was in high spirits, pointing at every bird and passing cart with delighted noises. Roman kept his pace measured, keenly aware of how close they were. The occasional brush of Miss Hartley’s shoulder against his arm sent a quiet spark through him.
In the village, heads turned. Roman noticed the way people’s eyes lingered on the three of them: the duke, the nursemaid, and the child.
Several villagers offered respectful nods, but the whispers followed them like a shadow.
An older woman at the market stall actually curtsied to Miss Hartley before catching herself.
At the draper’s shop, the misunderstanding reached its peak.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” the shopkeeper’s wife said warmly to Miss Hartley as they entered. “And how is the little one today? Such a dear face she has.”
Miss Hartley’s cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Oh, I am not…that is, I am Miss Hartley. The nursemaid.”
The woman blinked, then stammered. “Of course, of course. My mistake entirely. The three of you just looked so... well. Never mind. What can I help you with today?”
Roman found himself smiling, a genuine, unguarded smile that felt foreign on his face. He watched as Miss Hartley tried to recover, her ears now pink as well, and felt an unexpected rush of warmth toward her.
“You handled that with remarkable grace,” he murmured as they left the shop with their parcels. “Though I must admit, the look on your face was rather entertaining.”
Miss Hartley shot him a sidelong glance, equal parts mortified and amused. “I am glad my embarrassment provides you with amusement, Your Grace.”
“Immensely,” he replied. Their eyes met for a moment too long, and Roman felt the air between them thicken. He noticed the way her breath caught slightly, the subtle way she adjusted her grip on Liliana as though needing something solid to hold onto.
They made their way to the village green and spread a blanket on the grass. Liliana immediately began exploring, pulling at daisies with fierce concentration and babbling at a curious dog that wandered past.
Roman sat beside them, close enough that his knee nearly brushed Miss Hartley’s skirt.
“The village seems lively today,” he remarked, watching Liliana chase a butterfly with unsteady steps.
Miss Hartley smiled softly. “It does. Everyone seems to know Liliana already. The baker’s wife waved at her from across the street.”
“She has that effect,” Roman said. He leaned back on his hands, studying Miss Hartley’s profile as she watched the baby. “She has opinions about everything now. Yesterday she spent ten minutes lecturing the nursery curtain.”
Miss Hartley laughed, a light sound that made something in Roman’s chest tighten pleasantly.
“She does have strong feelings about curtains. I believe she sees them as personal adversaries. Yesterday, she spent a full five minutes lecturing one with very stern babbling before she finally pulled it down again.”
Roman’s mouth curved into a smile. “A formidable opponent, then. I shall have to speak with the housekeeper about reinforcing the curtain rods. We cannot have the future mistress of the nursery defeated by mere fabric.”
Thelma’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she glanced at him. “I fear Liliana has already declared victory. She now considers every curtain in the house her territory. This morning, she attempted to claim one of the drawing room drapes as well.”
“She is ambitious,” Roman said, his voice warm with quiet humor. “First the nursery, then the drawing room. Soon she will be demanding the library.”
“The heavens help us all when she discovers the ballroom,” Thelma replied, her tone playfully dry. “We shall have to install tiny barricades.”
They both chuckled, the sound mingling easily in the open air of the village green. Liliana, sitting on the blanket between them, looked up at the sound and offered them each a daisy she had mangled, her expression one of great pride.
“Thank you, little one,” Roman said solemnly, accepting his slightly crushed flower. “A fine specimen.”
Thelma took hers with equal gravity. “She has excellent taste in flora. Though I suspect the daisies might disagree.”
The conversation flowed naturally from there. Roman found himself relaxing in a way he rarely did.
“Have you noticed how particular she has become about spoons lately?” he asked, watching Liliana chew contentedly on a blade of grass. “She rejected the silver one yesterday with such offense I thought she might throw it across the room.”
Thelma nodded, smiling. “Oh yes. She has very strong opinions on spoons. The wooden one from the kitchen is acceptable. Anything else is apparently an insult to her dignity. Patricia nearly lost a battle with her over it two days ago.”
Roman laughed again, softer this time. “I would have paid to see that.”
They fell quiet for a moment, the easy silence comfortable. Then Thelma spoke again, her voice lighter.
“I finished The Castle of Otranto last night,” Miss Hartley said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I must say, the author has a remarkable talent for making every character behave as though they have suffered a blow to the head. The dramatic declarations! The fainting! One begins to wonder if anyone in that castle ever simply had a normal conversation.”
Roman laughed, an unrestrained sound that surprised even him.
He could not remember the last time he had laughed like that.
Miss Hartley turned to look at him, her warm brown eyes wide with genuine surprise, as though she had never heard the sound before.
Which, he realized, she probably had not.
He did not laugh often, and certainly not like that.
“You find it amusing?” he asked, still smiling.
“Very much so,” she replied, her gaze lingering on his face. “I did not expect you to agree so readily. You always seem so... composed.”
Their eyes held. The village green faded around them for a moment.
Roman became acutely aware of how close they were sitting, the way the sunlight caught the auburn strands in her hair, the subtle flush on her cheeks.
He noticed the delicate line of her throat when she swallowed, the way her fingers tightened slightly in her lap.
“I am not always as composed as I appear, Miss Hartley,” he said quietly, his voice lower than he intended.
Liliana chose that moment to crawl back toward them, grabbing a fistful of Roman’s coat and pulling herself up between them. The baby’s timing broke the tension, but the warmth of it lingered long after.
Roman found himself reluctant to end the outing. For the first time in many months, the weight of the dukedom felt distant, secondary to the simple pleasure of sitting on the grass beside Miss Hartley while Liliana played at their feet.
The afternoon sun had begun to dip lower by the time they gathered their things from the village green.
Liliana had played herself into exhaustion, crawling after daisies and chasing the occasional butterfly until her energy finally gave out.
She now lay fast asleep against Miss Hartley’s shoulder, one small fist curled into the fabric of her dress, her breathing soft and even.