Chapter 8 #2
One evening, he had even contemplated walking in on her as she slept, waking her up and kissing her senseless.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it that time, but I will. Soon.
His thoughts were still on Edith as he walked back to the townhouse. He wished the walk did not take so long, so he could be with her sooner.
“Has Her Grace returned?” he asked the butler as he took his coat.
“She has. I believe she is in the parlor. By the sound of it, her luncheon was a success,” the butler noted.
“Really?” Laurence smiled at the news.
“Indeed. I believe she has received two donations.”
“Better than none.”
“Totaling almost seventy-five pounds.”
Laurence paused, processing that piece of information. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was shocked. In truth, he had expected smaller amounts from her first time back in town.
“I see,” he said as he walked down the hall.
Something nagged at him as he thought about the donations. He was deeply aware that they had been given, at least partially, due to his position and title.
He could not help but wonder if this sudden generosity would put him in an awkward position. Although he had promised her independence, the possibility that it might leave him entangled in unwanted obligations gnawed at him.
A small giggle from the parlor interrupted his musing. Curious, Laurence walked toward the source of the sound.
From the parlor doorway, he saw Edith sitting in a chair, engrossed in her embroidery. She had yet to notice him. At the back of the room, Tilly was standing on a chair and two thick books. His books. Her little arms were reaching toward the jar of lemon drops Edith had brought with them.
“Your Grace,” Edith greeted as he entered the room.
The noise startled Tilly, who gasped and nearly fell, and now clung to the back of the chair. She scrambled and crouched, pressing even harder on the books.
Laurence’s stomach dropped as he realized the books she was crushing were his grandfather’s first editions, which were purchased long before he was born. Ancient and already falling apart, they didn’t need a child climbing on them.
“Get down,” Laurence commanded sternly.
“Your Grace—” Edith started.
“I said, get down!” Laurence shouted at Tilly, who flinched.
As he strode toward her, she scrambled off the books and chair, and raced toward the dining room.
“There was no need for that!” Edith snapped.
“What?” Laurence sputtered, turning to face her. He had not expected to be the target of her rebuke.
“She was just being a child,” Edith argued.
“Do you know how rare and valuable those books are?”
“Does it really matter? They are just books. You shouldn’t have scolded her so.”
Laurence pursed his lips and stared at his wife.
Edith broke eye contact, turning to where Tilly had fled. “Tilly! Wait!” she cried out and ran after the girl.
Blast it.
Laurence grunted and picked up the books. These hadn’t been worth losing his temper over. He had never read them, and they were at the townhouse because, frankly, nobody did.
Dusting them off, he walked upstairs and shelved them in his library. They sat neatly between two volumes he had never read and likely never would. They were possessions that served no other purpose than to signify status and wealth, but were otherwise utterly useless.
And for this, I screamed at Tilly?
She didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his ire.
She had already endured too much of it from the people who’d passed through her short life.
It wasn’t her fault that he was upset. The frustration of being unable to deal with his feelings for Edith, James’s taunting, and the news of the large donations had rattled him.
He hung his head in remorse.
These are not the actions of a duke. I am behaving like my father, not a respectable gentleman.
Laurence did not know how to undo the damage he had caused. In theory, it was as easy as saying sorry. However, Tilly was a child. She would expect comfort, but he did not know how to give her that.
His fists balled at his sides, and he walked out of the room. Reaching his chambers, he slammed the door shut behind him. The windows rattled, but he was too frustrated to care if they shattered.
I should know better. Be better. I can’t let my darkness affect the child.
Those thoughts stayed with him until the following day. Although he excelled at solving the duchy’s problems, his private life was frequently in tatters.
He reached the study door, opened it, and froze. Instead of an empty study, he was greeted with an unexpected sight.
Tilly.
She had shrunk in on herself as he entered. A small piece of parchment was clutched in her tiny hands.
“I-I am sorry, Your Grace,” she stammered, her fingers tightening on the vellum. “I-I wanted to give this to you to say sorry.” She held it up.
Laurence was confused, but reached down slowly and accepted her peace offering. On it was a sketch of a man in the official colors of his duchy, brandishing a sword while astride a horse. In a squiggly hand at the bottom, she had written, The Duke of Albreboorn.
He looked at her over the picture, unsure how to respond.
“I-I know you want me gone,” she whispered shakily.
“I know I am not fit to be here. I’m naught but a workhouse girl, and I don’t belong in a grand house like yours.
” Her lip quivered. “I only make trouble for you, Your Grace. I try to be good, I do, but I forget my manners, and I speak when I shouldn’t—”
“Tilly,” he interrupted softly, crouching down to her eye level. “Do you take me for a man who does things he doesn’t want to do?”
She thought for a moment and then slowly shook her head.
“Exactly. When I proposed to Her Grace, I understood that meant you would be coming with her,” he said softly. “If I really did not want you to be here, I could have insisted we send you to a boarding school.”
The young girl nodded as she listened.
“I am… still learning how to speak to a child. I am aware I am not exactly the most… gentle person to be around,” he admitted. “But you are my charge, Tilly. I want you here. I won’t ever want you to leave.”
Tilly’s big brown eyes welled with tears that spilled down her cheeks. She sniffled and let out a strangled noise before jumping into his arms. He caught her, masking his surprise. She clung to his neck, hugging him as tight as her little arms would allow while she sobbed.
Unsure what to do, Laurence awkwardly patted her back. In truth, he had never been held as a child. He had no idea if he was supposed to hold her gently. There was the worry that if he held her too tight, she might break.
“There, there,” he mumbled.
Soft footsteps from behind him caught his attention, and Edith appeared in the doorway.
Laurence took this as the moment to pull back. Tilly let go, her face wet with tears, a small bubble forming under one nostril.
Without a word, Edith leaned down with a handkerchief, gently cleaned Tilly’s face, and then led her out of the room.
“Let’s leave the Duke to his business, Tilly,” she said softly.
After Edith had closed the door, Laurence sighed and sat in his desk chair. A bleak thought took root in his mind as he stared blankly at the documents before him.
If I had known the warmth of a steady hand and gentle care in childhood, as Edith gives so freely to Tilly, might I have become a different man?