Chapter 2 #2
For a moment, Madeline simply stared back at him, and the noise of the tent faded, until there was only the faint crackle of ice beneath the skaters and the warmth climbing her neck.
She felt the full force of that attention, like cold fingers trailing along warm skin. Yet beneath the chill, something curious swirled, that made her pulse trip.
He turned to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Hayward, take Theresa to the carriage. I will follow shortly.”
“No,” Theresa blurted, clinging to his coat. “Papa, I want to stay. I’m not cold.”
The Duke lowered his voice. “We are leaving.”
“But—”
“That is enough, Theresa.”
The girl shrank a little, hurt flickering across her features, and Madeline’s heart twisted for her.
Mrs. Hayward stepped forward and said gently, “Come, sweetheart.”
Theresa hesitated, then allowed herself to be led away, though she cast one last look over her shoulder at Madeline.
By only taking a few steps, they disappeared into the crowd.
Madeline tracked their progress. When she locked eyes with a man who gave her a quirky smile, she suddenly remembered that anyone could be lurking amongst the villagers this evening.
Her pulse accelerated but with a quick glance, Madeline confirmed that Hale still hadn’t reached the tent.
Then, with a sense of urgency inducing her to speak her mind whilst she still had the chance, Madeline turned to the Duke and said in a gently reproachful manner, “You were much too harsh with her, Your Grace.”
His head snapped toward her, surprise glinting in his eyes. “Harsh?”
“She was frightened,” Madeline murmured. “She needed reassurance, not reprimand.”
His brows drew together slowly. “And you believe you know what she needed?”
“I know children,” she replied softly. “I’ve taught them for years. They respond to gentleness and to feeling understood.”
He stared at her as though she had spoken words he had long forgotten existed. The rigid lines of his jaw eased faintly.
“You are a bold woman,” he said at last.
Heat climbed her neck again. “Not bold. Only… honest.”
His gaze swept over her face with a steadiness that felt almost intimate, as though he were memorizing her features rather than merely observing them.
It moved slowly, first to her eyes, lingering long enough that she felt the breath tighten in her chest, then down to the faint curve of her cheek, and finally to her mouth.
The shift was subtle, barely a flicker, but he looked at her lips as if the sight unsettled him, and yet he could not quite pull away.
Madeline’s pulse fluttered unevenly. Every inch of her skin seemed suddenly aware of him, aware of his height blocking the lantern light, aware of the breadth of his shoulders, aware of the faint scent of cold and pine surrounding him.
When she had seen Hale earlier, fear had risen swift and unmistakable, her instincts clear about what must be done. This felt altogether different, softer and far more dangerous… a quiet, unnerving awareness that loosened her control instead of sharpening it.
She lowered her gaze quickly, unable to withstand the intensity of his eyes for another heartbeat. She felt flustered and unsteady in a way she never had before. She’d been so composed for so long. How did this unexpected glance from him chip at all the walls she’d learned to build?
She needed to leave.
“Yes, well,” she finally murmured, fingers curling tightly around the edge of her cloak, “I should go. My employer will grow concerned if I stay much longer.”
“Wait.” His voice wrapped around her, warm and low, catching her before she could take a step.
She turned, and he was already closer, towering above her.
“You handled my daughter with more grace than any governess she’s had,” he said, softer now. “You did not hesitate. You did not recoil. You spoke to her as if she were an ordinary child.”
“She is just a child,” Madeline whispered.
His eyes flickered in surprise, then in something far deeper, far more vulnerable. “I need someone like you,” he said.
Her breath stopped. “I—what?”
“Tessa needs a governess who will not fear her scars. Who will not make her feel small.” His voice was low and earnest. “Traditional interviews have failed. The candidates treat her as if she were—” He broke off, jaw tightening. “As if she were something to be pitied.”
“I’m sorry,” Madeline murmured.
“So am I.” His gaze softened. “I watched you with her. You knew exactly how to steady her.”
A strange warmth unfurled through her chest, but she could not afford warmth, or anything that resembled it.
“Your words are kind, Your Grace, but I’m afraid I must go,” she repeated, backing away. “Truly.”
She turned toward the tent flap and froze. Captain Hale stood outside, eyes surveying the passing faces with ruthless concentration. Her blood turned to ice.
“No,” she whispered.
“What is it?” the Duke’s voice came from behind.
“I—” Her breath came fast, irregular. “I’m sorry. I must leave.”
He stepped in front of her, blocking Hale’s line of sight without even knowing it. “Miss Watton,” he said quietly, and her name sounded like a command on his tongue, “have I frightened you?”
“No. I simply must go.”
“You’re trembling.”
She hated that he noticed, and heat pricked her eyes.
He lowered his voice further. “I apologize if I was too direct earlier. I did not mean to unsettle you.”
“It isn’t that,” she whispered.
“Then tell me what it is.”
She shook her head.
“I am offering you employment,” he continued, earnestness roughening his tone. “A safe place to live. Stability. Respect. You will have your own room, full wages, and my full protection. You may even begin at once, if you wish to.”
Her lips parted. “At once?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer and the air grew weighted between them, charged with something hot and dizzying she did not understand. “Come with us now. I will send for your belongings tomorrow.”
Her knees weakened. Behind him, Hale still searched, still hadn’t found her, as the Duke thankfully provided cover. Even so, she had nowhere else to run and this stranger, this Duke, was offering her the one thing she had forgotten she deserved: safety.
Standing this close to him, she felt heat coil low in her stomach, a pull she could not rationalize. His presence filled the space around her, quiet but consuming.
He leaned slightly forward and she felt his breath warm the air between them. “Miss Watton,” he said, voice deep, threaded with something that made her pulse stutter, “come with me.”
Sparks danced along her skin. She stepped back, only to calm herself. “I…” Her voice shook, but she forced it still. “Yes. I will come. If we leave now.”
Relief swept through his features so subtly she might have imagined it. He nodded once, firm and certain. “Good. Let us go then.”
He placed a hand at the small of her back, the warmth of his touch slipping through the layers of her cloak and sending a shiver spiraling through her despite her effort to remain composed, then guided her out of the tent.
She kept her head slightly bowed as they walked, the edges of her hood casting shadows over her face. Her cloak gathered tightly around her while her eyes swept cautiously over the shifting crowd, searching each passing expression for any sign of danger.
They reached the Duke’s carriage at last, where Mrs. Hayward waited with Tessa already nestled inside. The child’s anxious gaze flickered between her father and Madeline as though trying to understand the urgency surrounding them.
Madeline stepped up into the carriage, settling onto the cushioned seat with careful composure. As she adjusted her skirts, she allowed herself one glance back toward the festival.
Captain Hale stood near the edge of the lantern-lit square, body clearly rigid.
His expression was dark, tight with frustration, his eyes sweeping the crowd with cold precision.
He looked everywhere she had been moments ago, everywhere she might have been still, and yet his gaze slid past the carriage entirely, not pausing even for a second.
And then, the carriage began to move away.
Relief unfurled inside her, sudden and overwhelming, loosening the tension that had been tightening within her since she first saw him in the crowd. She let her eyes fall closed. Her chest rose in a slow, trembling exhale as the realization washed through her.
For the first time in months, she was not within his reach.