Chapter 6
“T. I. L. L. Y!” Tilly exclaimed in the parlor, where she was sitting with her governess.
“Very good!” Her governess smiled.
Laurence stood outside the door, listening intently. He had never intended to eavesdrop, but he was curious to know what Tilly was being taught.
“So, now you can recognize the letters that make your name. Let’s look at how to write it,” the governess said.
“Will I get to use a quill?” Tilly asked.
“Of course,” the governess replied.
Laurence couldn’t help but smile.
While Tilly could be overly enthusiastic, she could also be sweet. He turned to walk away when a gasp rang through the room.
He paused. Part of him wanted to leave—this wasn’t his concern. He didn’t need to meddle with Edith’s parenting. But another part, one he didn’t care to examine closely, was strangely worried. He wanted to know if Tilly was hurt or frightened.
When did I start caring about such things?
“Oh no,” Tilly whimpered.
“Don’t panic, Tilly,” the governess soothed.
“But the ink… It’s all over my dress.”
Laurence bristled. He wanted to march into the room and chastise her for being so clumsy. His hand was on the door handle before he stopped himself, hearing his father’s voice shouting in his head.
Taking a shaky breath, he removed his hand and stepped away from the door. He would not be like that man.
“We have ways of fixing these things. You might as well learn it now,” the governess said gently. “Come, let us go to the kitchens. I’ll have one of the maids fetch you another dress.”
Laurence listened and bit his cheek, trying to calm himself.
The governess is more than capable of handling the situation, but…
He turned and ascended the stairs, taking them two at a time. Edith would be in her bedroom, getting ready for dinner. She should be the one to handle Tilly.
He knocked on the door to her chambers.
“One moment!” she called out.
He waited impatiently, tapping his foot until the door swung open. Her hands were busy tying a robe around her. His eyes widened, and his cheeks turned pink at the unexpected sight.
Of course, she was changing. It had been but a moment, but he was sure he had seen the delicate skin of her decolletage, although she had tightened the robe to hide it.
That didn’t alter the image that was now seared into his brain. The delicate fabric of her chemise clinging to the soft expanse of her shoulder. Her honey-blonde hair tumbling down her back.
This wasn’t part of their arrangement. He wasn’t supposed to want her like this. He wasn’t supposed to think about removing her chemise and discovering what lay beneath, or imagine her sighing his name as he—
“Your Grace?” she said in surprise.
Of course, he didn’t often come to her chambers.
Laurence straightened immediately, adjusting his waistcoat and schooling his features into something akin to composure.
“There seems to have been an incident during Tilly’s lesson,” he started. “I walked past the parlor she and her governess were in and heard her lamenting about spilling ink on her dress.”
“I see. Is the governess handling it?”
“I believe so, but I thought you should know,” he said. “Abigail should be collecting a new dress for Tilly to wear to dinner.”
“Thank you for informing me.” Edith nodded. “I will go and see what has happened.”
“Indeed. And perhaps… Tilly should wear black to her lessons until her coordination improves?” he suggested.
Edith’s hand clenched around the doorframe, but then quickly loosened. “I will take that into consideration,” she offered as she walked past him, in the direction of the kitchens.
He frowned, not understanding her reaction.
In truth, he still didn’t understand a lot about Edith and Tilly. He had never seen Edith lose her temper with the girl, but she seemed all too happy to direct it at him. Tilly also never seemed afraid of him or Edith, despite everything she had endured.
After a moment, he headed to his study to get back to work. If he were to fix the duchy, then he couldn’t become distracted by sentimentality.
He started working away, his quill scratching across paper. The minutes ticked by, but eventually, his stomach growled. Looking at his clock, he had been working for nearly an hour. Dinner was late.
He frowned and ventured downstairs. Familiar giggles met his ears as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and the smell of milk and lye soap drifted in the air. The dining room was empty.
Walking deeper in, he noticed that the kitchen door was open, and he could see a sink full of bubbles. Tilly was laughing, suds piled high on her hair, wearing a new dress.
At the sink, Edith had her hands in the soapy water, occasionally pulling them out to blow bubbles. The governess and the housekeeper stood to the side, muttering together about the stubborn stain. The cook and maids were preparing dinner, but kept stopping to watch or laugh at the scene.
Suddenly, the corridor felt… lonely.
He shook his head, pushing away the ridiculous notion.
His heart clenched as he approached the kitchen. He frowned, unable to place what he was feeling. Then, all at once, he understood. He didn’t want to be the one who broke the spell.
With growing horror, he also realized that he wanted to join them. To be part of a family. To make a mess, laugh, and blow soap bubbles while dinner grew cold.
Growing up, the castle had never felt this warm or kind. His father would have beaten any servant who dared delay a meal. It was unbecoming and frivolous.
And yet there was Edith, standing in the mess and the joy. Warmth seemed to come so easily to her. She could even make this cold, hollow castle a home for herself and Tilly.
For one dangerous moment, he readied himself to step inside and join in their fun. To have Edith pull him into their happy chaos and see Tilly smile at him.
But he couldn’t.
Men like him, with his family’s tainted blood, didn’t deserve such things. His family dealt in money and cruelty. If he stepped in, he would drain the moment of warmth and poison it. He always did.
The growling of his stomach reminded him of the purpose of his visit.
He walked toward the door and knocked on it. The servants all looked at him, color draining from their faces.
Edith looked up at him and then at the clock. “Oh, it seems we’ve missed the dinner hour.”
“W-We are ever so sorry, Your Grace,” the cook stammered.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” a maid piped up.
Laurence watched them all for a moment and then nodded, before walking away.
Behind him, the kitchen filled with panicked whispers. His jaw ached when he clenched it hard. It had never bothered him before when the staff had treated him as someone to be feared. On occasion, it had helped him keep control of the estate. But Tonight…
He stomped up the stairs so hard it was a miracle the wood did not splinter.
Edith winced as she heard Laurence stomp away. She glanced at the harried servants, washed her hands, and cleaned the suds from Tilly’s hair.
“Did we upset him?” Tilly whispered to her.
“I do not know.”
“I-I am sure His Grace is just eager for dinner,” the cook stuttered.
“It is rather late,” a maid added.
“I haven’t seen His Grace like that in a while,” Abigail sighed.
Edith glanced at the servants. While most of them were respectful, it seemed that some genuinely feared this side of the Duke.
“Do you think business is slowing?” the cook murmured.
“We shouldn’t speculate,” a maid cautioned.
“But the way he left…”
“Is he extra grumpy tonight?” Tilly whispered. “Did we do something wrong?”
“I don’t believe so. I think he’s hungry,” Edith replied.
Tilly nodded sagely. “That makes sense. I get upset easily when I am hungry.”
“That you do.” Edith chuckled softly.
When Edith went to bed that night, she could not erase the image of Laurence’s upset.
She was starting to suspect that there was more to it than she knew. Her theory was confirmed the moment his chamber door slammed shut. The force rattled the door between the rooms.
She took a breath to steady herself. Even now, he was still displeased. Picking up her brush, she ran it through her hair as she listened to him grumble and move about.
What a foul mood he’s in. Did seeing us all happy trouble him so much?
She set the brush down, watching the lamplight catch the gold in its bristles.
Perhaps it was unfair, but the thought came anyway. When he behaved badly, maybe he wanted everyone in the castle to feel as miserable as he did.
She settled in her bed soon after, listening to him move about his chambers. She turned onto one side, then the other, but sleep would not come.
She ran a hand down her face and sighed. She disliked the thought she’d had about him. From everything she had learned over the past few days, she had to admit he was volatile. A man reviled as a beast, with a father no one would speak of.
Perhaps anger was the only language he knew.
He often locked himself away. He was known to be a recluse, and his scars made him something of a pariah. As much as they did not bother her, she was not oblivious to how others saw them. Moreover, he seemed very lonely.
Edith groaned and buried her head in her pillow.
Despite how infuriating and vexing Laurence was, she needed to be sensible.
She was married to him, until death did them part.
If she and Tilly were going to get through this together, she needed to show him grace, whether he deserved it or not.
She already knew he wouldn’t extend the same charity to her if the tables were turned.
She vowed to do her best to make him less lonely. Not out of altruism, but out of practicality.
Having made up her mind, her eyes drifted shut, and her body succumbed to sleep.
“Ready or not! Here I come!” Edith called out to the empty room.
Tilly had done her best to run as far as she could at the start of their game of hide and seek.