Chapter 7
“Your Grace! They have dolls here!” Tilly cried out as she ran toward the toy shop.
“Tilly, calm down!” Edith called after her, walking quickly to catch up with her.
They had come to the village to run some errands and escape the castle for a while.
Edith hadn’t counted on one thing. Tilly was so used to London and its busy streets that the village near the castle seemed foreign to her. Edith had spent most of the day running after her and reminding her of her manners.
The little girl hadn’t even had much interaction with a horse and had tried to walk behind one. Edith had to pull her away just before the horse kicked its hind legs. She had apologized to the owner profusely, while Tilly seemed unaware of the danger.
Edith soon caught up to Tilly and looked in the toy shop window. There were a variety of small, mostly wooden toys. The one Tilly had her eye on was a twelve-inch doll with a wooden body and posable joints. She was wearing a pale blue dress and had dark hair painted on her scalp.
Edith had had something similar as a child, and the nostalgia made her smile. While it was not the finest doll, it had certainly enchanted Tilly, who was bouncing on her toes.
“Would you—”
“That’s her,” Edith heard someone say.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw two young men. Both wore fine clothes. Wealthy men, to be sure, but without a title. They were standing close, but made no effort to be quiet.
“Is that the child His Grace has taken on?” the second man asked.
“Indeed. I can’t imagine that she will amount to much as a foundling,” the first man replied.
“Oh, I imagine it’s far worse.”
“Worse?”
“Didn’t you hear? She comes from a workhouse. I’m sure she’s slow.”
“Perhaps she was born out of wedlock,” the second man snickered.
Both men grinned, as if that were a witty joke.
Edith looked down at Tilly, praying she had not heard. Alas, the girl had. She’d stopped bouncing and was clinging to the toy store’s windowsill.
“Your Grace,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Am I… Am I unworthy?”
Edith’s heart broke, and a protective rage surged without warning in the same breath.
“No, Tilly. Ignore them,” she said softly, before turning toward the men.
She inhaled deeply to brace herself, but Laurence had also overheard the men and stormed over to confront them.
“I see you both still enjoy gossiping like old hens,” he chided, approaching them.
“Y-Your Grace!” both men sputtered, bowing to him.
“I did not think you two would be so bold as to openly voice your concerns,” Laurence said.
“It-It’s not that,” the first man stuttered.
“Good. Then, may I suggest you both act as if Miss Tilly is my child by blood? Her background is irrelevant now. She is the child of a duke, which is all you should concern yourself with,” Laurence said, glaring at them until they cowered.
“Y-Yes!” the first man stuttered.
“We are ever so sorry, Your Grace!” the second man added.
Laurence nodded, then dismissively waved his hand. “You both would do well to get out of my sight.”
Both men scrambled away, not daring to look back.
Edith smiled as she watched. “You are making quite the habit of defending us,” she said as he approached them.
“It seems I am.”
“You’re rather good at it,” she added.
“At defending you?” he asked, his eyebrow raised.
“No.” Edith shook her head. “At scaring others into submission.”
“It’s a gift,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes.
“One you’ve clearly practiced.”
“Daily. In the mirror, I growl at my reflection until it apologizes,” he scoffed.
Edith laughed despite herself.
Laurence’s eyes drifted down to Tilly, and he gently put his hand on her small shoulder. “Chin up, little one. You need not concern yourself with the prattle of those people.”
Tilly nodded in response but didn’t look up.
Laurence glanced into the store window and then at Edith. He pulled away and walked inside.
Edith crouched down to Tilly’s eye level. “They were being cruel for cruelty’s sake. Not because it was true,” she said softly.
Tilly nodded, wiping her eyes.
Edith took out a handkerchief and handed it to Tilly, who took it and wiped her face. A moment later, Laurence returned.
“Now, Tilly, if I give you something to make up for the cruel things those men said, you must promise not to be spoiled. Can you do that?” he asked.
Edith noticed that he was hiding something behind his back and looked at him with curiosity.
Finally, Tilly nodded, and Laurence held out the doll she had been wishing for. The little girl gasped in joy and took it from him.
“Your Grace! Oh! Thank you!” she cried out, squeezing the doll to her chest.
“You are welcome, Tilly,” he said softly. He turned to look at Edith. “Her manners do seem to be improving somewhat.”
“I am doing my best to teach her.” Edith smiled. “Speaking of, we should buy some more lemon drops, Tilly.”
The little girl nodded eagerly, and Laurence raised an eyebrow.
“Whatever do lemon drops and manners have to connect them?” he asked.
“Every time I learn a new rule or get a question right, I get a lemon drop.” Tilly beamed.
Edith watched Laurence freeze and clench his jaw. For a moment, she worried he would try to impose his opinion on the situation.
“Then I think we will need a lot more lemon drops,” he sighed, making Tilly laugh.
Edith blinked in surprise but followed them both toward the confectionery shop nonetheless.
“So, you are now using bribery, Duchess?” Laurence asked as they went.
“I call it incentivization.”
“Is there a difference?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“One sounds far more respectable,” Edith quipped.
“Indeed.” He leaned close to her. “And do you get a reward for good behavior?”
Heat crept up Edith’s neck as Laurence’s breath brushed her ear. Her throat tightened as she tried to force away the image of him in the pond.
“That depends.” She cleared her throat, which had become uncomfortably dry.
“On?” he prompted, tilting his head.
“On who is offering,” she replied.
He covered his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a snort.
Sugar and citrus filled Edith’s nose as the shopkeeper weighed their sweets. Tilly darted around the shop, eyeing every tempting variety and occasionally asking Laurence if she could try different varieties to compare to the lemon drops.
“You can try two more,” Laurence allowed.
Tilly beamed. She stood before the sweets counter with her brow furrowed, debating between the marzipan and praline.
Edith watched, and for a few moments, she felt like she was part of a family, and allowed her tense shoulders to relax. The spell was broken when she noticed the shopkeeper observing Laurence and Tilly with a mixture of fear and pity. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides.
“Ignore them,” Laurence murmured into her ear.
Although a delightful shiver ran up her spine, and goosebumps broke over her skin at the caress of his warm breath, she was unable to ignore the anger she felt at the shopkeeper’s attitude.
“Why?” she whispered back. “I take great offense at how he looks at you both.”
“We must choose our battles,” Laurence replied, his lips brushing the tip of her ear. “And there are some, like outside, that we fight. However, this one isn’t a battle we will be fighting. He wants to help.”
“But—”
“I know,” Laurence murmured. “I know all too well.”
Edith watched him as he straightened to his full height. Something in her gut twisted at the thought that he was far too used to people’s disparaging glances.
He was a duke. He should have been the one person who could put an end to their scorn. Instead, even the commoners made disrespectful remarks that they did not bother to hide.
What a lonely life this man lives, when even a duke cannot find a kind eye.
The trio began their stroll back to the castle. Tilly clutched her sweets, standing tall and grinning widely.
“Did you mean what you said, Your Grace?” she asked.
“About what?”
“About growling at your reflection.”
“Indeed.” Laurence nodded, his expression serious.
“Does it work?”
“Yes, my reflection has become remarkably well-behaved.”
Edith couldn’t help but smile at the interaction.
Tilly burst into a fit of giggles, then stood straight and cleared her throat. “Do I have good posture, Your Grace?” she asked, looking up at Laurence.
“Hmm…” He looked at her as she walked. “I’d say it is… improving.”
Tilly beamed and looked up at Edith expectantly.
“No,” Edith laughed. Laurence frowned, confused. “She’s looking at me to ask if she can have a lemon drop.”
Laurence smirked. “What did I say about not becoming spoiled?”
The little girl pouted. “I’m doing good though,” she mumbled.
“You are,” Edith said warmly. “But you also need to learn patience. You can have one if you keep walking like this all the way home.”
“All right,” Tilly relented, still a little disappointed but recovering.
Edith smiled at her little girl. They walked a few more steps before she noticed that Laurence was lagging behind, looking at something.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “I’ve seen something that needs my attention.”
Edith hesitated. For some reason, she had allowed herself to hope that all of them would walk back to the castle together.
“We’ll see you back at home,” Edith said softly.
Tilly, focused on her posture, hadn’t noticed Edith’s expression.
Why must he be so insufferably vexing?
One moment, she felt protected by his warmth; the next, he abandoned them for the sake of duty. At least in her first marriage, her husband had been consistently absent.
She had learned to be alone because she had not been given an alternative. Laurence’s inconsistency gnawed at her. His fleeting presence made the stretches of time alone even more bitter.
She swallowed hard, praying that Tilly was unaware of it all. For now, Tilly was walking tall, her shoulders unburdened, and her face bright.
I pray that she will always feel this way.
“Where are we going, Tilly?” Edith asked as Tilly dragged her from the parlor to a drawing room.