Chapter 4 #2
The Duke himself seems permanently trapped somewhere between grief and irritation. And as for the young lady, well, she seems to be angry with the world, but why?
The entire household felt wrapped in secrets. Amelia’s curiosity only grew stronger.
A footman opened the breakfast room door for her. The moment Amelia entered, three pairs of eyes turned towards her. David brightened immediately upon seeing her. Valerie regarded her with cool reserve. Gabriel looked at the clock upon the mantel before returning his attention to her.
“You are late,” Gabriel informed her.
Amelia paused midway through entering the room and curtsied. “My apologies, Your Grace,” she said as she moved towards the empty chair. “Though I confess I am curious whether being two minutes late truly qualifies as late.”
Valerie’s eyes widened. David looked delighted. Gabriel looked deeply unimpressed. Amelia instantly realized she had said the wrong thing.
Wonderful.
She had apparently survived the vile carriage driver only to perish at breakfast.
Gabriel set down his coffee cup with deliberate precision. “A household functions because people adhere to schedules,” he said, his voice calm in the manner of approaching thunderstorms. “If two minutes become five minutes and five become ten, standards disappear.”
Amelia carefully lowered herself into her chair. “I see.”
“Rules exist for a reason,” Gabriel continued, folding his hands before him. “Without rules, there is disorder. Without order, there is chaos.”
His speech appeared well-practiced. Amelia suspected he had delivered some version of it many times before.
“Chaos sounds rather dramatic for two minutes,” she said before common sense could stop her.
Valerie suddenly let out a small snort. The sound surprised everyone, most of all Valerie. Gabriel slowly turned his head towards his niece.
“Do you find something amusing?” he asked.
Valerie immediately lowered her gaze to her plate. “Nothing, Uncle,” she replied with perfect composure.
Amelia bit the inside of her cheek. The situation would have been significantly easier if she possessed any ability whatsoever to remain silent. Unfortunately, silence had never been among her talents.
Gabriel continued studying Valerie for another moment before returning his attention to Amelia. The Duke looked vaguely suspicious, as though convinced they were conspiring against him.
An entertaining thought, Amelia decided, watching Gabriel as he sat at the head of the table. Together, the four of them ate quietly. Only the clatter of spoons hitting the inside of a teacup broke the silence.
At last, he spoke again, breaking the quiet with the same controlled precision he seemed to apply to everything.
“Miss Shirley,” he said.
“Your Grace,” Amelia replied automatically, straightening slightly without meaning to.
“This is my niece, Miss Valerie Warring,” Gabriel continued.
Valerie inclined her head with careful politeness, every movement measured as though rehearsed.
“Miss Warring,” Amelia said warmly in return, offering a friendly smile.
“Miss Shirley,” Valerie replied.
The exchange was perfectly civil. And entirely cold.
Amelia recognized the feeling immediately. It was the kind of politeness that existed purely to disguise animosity. She had encountered it often enough in drawing rooms where smiles did not match intentions.
She studied Valerie more carefully. Winning her over would not be simple.
In some ways, Amelia suspected the girl might be more difficult than Gabriel himself.
At least Gabriel did not pretend to approve of her presence.
Valerie, on the other hand, concealed her judgment beneath flawless manners, which made it more difficult to read and therefore more dangerous in its own way.
David, meanwhile, appeared entirely unconcerned with much of anything.
He was a child after all. He was currently constructing a precarious tower out of pieces of toast, stacking them with the concentration of a man building architecture that defied both logic and gravity.
Amelia watched the structure grow taller with increasing alarm, though no one else at the table seemed inclined to intervene.
Apparently, this was normal. Then David pushed his plate away with decisive force. “I do not want porridge,” he announced.
Gabriel’s expression darkened almost imperceptibly, though the change was enough to make the atmosphere tighten.
“You ate porridge yesterday,” he said.
“I do not want it today,” David replied without hesitation.
“You will eat it.”
David crossed his arms. “No.”
Silence settled over the table with uncomfortable speed. Amelia became suddenly aware of the attention shifting toward her. Gabriel was watching her directly, Valerie was watching her indirectly, and David was now very deliberately refusing to acknowledge her existence at all.
Well. Two and a half sets of eyes, then. This is my responsibility now.
She suppressed the sigh that rose instinctively because apparently her first morning as governess had arrived not gently but in full force and with immediate demands.
Amelia set down her cutlery and rose from her chair. Instead of standing over David, she moved around the table and lowered herself beside him, kneeling so she was at his level. The boy turned his head away, as though refusing eye contact might make her disappear.
“David,” she said gently.
“No,” he replied at once.
“You have not even heard my question,” Amelia said lightly.
“No.” David crossed his arms.
Amelia blinked slowly. “I admire your commitment to consistency.”
David continued staring resolutely at the wall as if it had personally wronged him. Valerie, seated further down the table, glanced at her napkin in a way that suggested she might be hiding amusement behind propriety.
Amelia suspected she was not imagining it. “Why do you not wish to eat your porridge?” she asked.
“It is porridge,” David replied, as though that explained everything necessary about it.
“I see,” Amelia said thoughtfully.
“It is horrible.”
“It contains honey.” Amelia glanced briefly towards Gabriel, who was watching the exchange with an expression that suggested he remained unconvinced by any of her methods thus far.
Perfect. Absolutely no pressure at all.
She returned her attention to David.
“What if you eat three spoonfuls?” she asked.
“No.”
“Two spoonfuls?”
“No.”
“One spoonful?”
“No.”
David, Amelia observed, possessed the negotiation skills of a man trained in matters of great political importance. Unfortunately for him, his current opponent was breakfast.
She rose slowly, considering her options, then allowed a moment of inspiration to settle.
“Very well,” she said, stepping back.
David looked at her with immediate suspicion.
Amelia placed a hand dramatically over her chest. “I shall be forced to eat it myself.”
David blinked. “What?”
“It is the only solution,” she continued gravely, as though this were a genuine crisis requiring sacrifice.
She picked up the spoon. Valerie looked up properly now, openly interested despite herself. Even Gabriel’s gaze sharpened slightly, his attention fixed in a way that suggested he was waiting to see whether she had lost her senses entirely.
Amelia examined the porridge with solemn seriousness, as though preparing for something far more tragic than breakfast. “What a tragedy,” she said softly. “A magnificent bowl of porridge, and you will have none.”
David stared. Amelia lifted the spoon very slowly.
Then, just as it reached halfway, David reached out and grabbed the bowl.
“No,” he said urgently.
Amelia paused. “No?”
“No,” he repeated, pulling it closer to himself.
He hugged it protectively as though she might steal it at any moment.
A satisfied smile formed on Amelia’s face before she could stop it.
“Oh?” she said.
“It is mine.”
“I thought it was horrible.”
David frowned. “It is.”
“But now you want it?”
“Yes.”
Amelia nodded slowly, as though reaching a profound conclusion. “Children are fascinating creatures,” she murmured.
For the briefest moment, she thought she saw something like amusement in Gabriel’s eyes.
It vanished almost instantly. David, after a moment of internal struggle, reluctantly took a spoonful. Then another. Then another. The crisis, it seemed, had passed.
Amelia returned to her seat with a small sense of triumph settling over her. She had not solved anything permanently, but she had survived breakfast without disaster, which felt like a meaningful achievement in this household.
When she looked up again, Gabriel was still watching her.
Not disapproving. Not approving. Simply watching.
The steadiness of it made her unexpectedly aware of herself, as though she had stepped slightly out of place and not noticed until now.
Amelia reached for her tea with careful composure. Perhaps she had succeeded. Or perhaps she had merely learned how to survive the morning. At present, she was willing to accept either outcome. After all, she still had twenty-nine days left.