Chapter 15 #2
“Yes,” Poppy spoke quietly, afraid that her voice might quiver and give her thoughts away.
He frowned as if he were deep in thought. “Was she distressed?”
The question held hidden compassion, but Poppy sensed it.
“She asked whether you were angry with her.”
A troubled expression moved across his face, but it was gone before she could name it.
“Did you inform her that I was not?”
She shook her head once. “I told her so.”
The duke’s mouth tightened. “And did she believe you?”
Poppy did not want to answer him, but silence would give it away too.
He looked away, and she prayed he understood.
“Aurora cannot be permitted to run wild in the house. It is dangerous and unladylike.”
The abruptness of his words and his clipped tone caused her spine to stiffen. “Children ought to play.”
“The children—or nieces—of a duke have to be trained properly.”
“And that would exclude laughter and happiness?” Poppy’s anger was beginning to rise.
“Noise is not proof of happiness.” He countered.
“Not for you,” she said simply. “But in Aurora’s case, it is often a sign of comfort.”
He absorbed that in silence, which irritated her more than an interruption would have. Silence from His Grace did not feel empty. It felt like judgment waiting behind a closed door.
“She is easily overwhelmed,” Poppy continued. “So is any child who has had too little certainty and too many changes in such a short amount of time. She needs gentleness before she can bear any instructions.”
His cane shifted once against the floor. “You speak as if I intend to harm her.”
“You may not harm her, but you do frighten her…”
Poppy watched his stung expression as he processed her words.
She wished she had spoken differently and knew at once that gentler words might have been less honest but no less true.
She briefly wanted to confess about the room makeover she had planned for Aurora, but it did not feel like the right moment to do so.
The duke remained still, and his shoulders tensed.
Poppy had the sudden urge to reach for him, but that was absurd, so she clasped her hands together in front of her.
“I only want what is best for my nieces, Poppy.” She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. She did not believe that she would get used to that.
“Raising them up the right way should be a priority.” He continued.
Poppy felt her own frustration rise with the conversation, but she forced herself to speak calmly and carefully.
“I am curious…what exactly is the wrong way?” she raised a brow at him.
His pale eyes returned to hers, and she wondered how clearly he saw her then.
She could not help but feel that he seemed to perceive her more than anyone did when he gazed at her, and she did not think the irony was lost on that.
His eyes truly studied her and took every part of her in.
She was afraid to admit that their icy depths drew her to him.
“The wrong way,” he said gruffly, “is pretending that they are still in the orphanage. They are not orphans anymore; they must learn that here by following the rules.”
That took her aback.
“This is how children learn.”
“No, in a duke’s house they will learn their duties as young ladies,” he said sternly. “Starting now.”
Poppy’s stomach dropped as she remembered the changes she had been making in Aurora’s room already to help the child feel less overwhelmed. She knew then that the duke would not accept it.
“Your Grace, I know Aurora better,” she said quietly, and hated the necessity of it even as she said it. “I have known her longer than you, and I know what she and Princess require.”
His Grace grunted. “We will get that baby a proper name.”
Poppy felt her own frustration rising with each breath.
“You may still get to know them; there is still time,” she added.
His expression changed as he looked at her.
“And what of you?”
Poppy blinked. “What is the meaning of that?”
“Is there time to get to know you?” She gulped and felt her cheeks warm up under his intense stare. “I only meant that because you claim to know the girls more than I do, then perhaps I should get to know you and learn from that.”
His jaw clenched as if the confession took all of his strength, and the lines on his forehead had deepened.
He looked, for one unguarded instant, like a man struck in a place already bruised.
Poppy’s anger faltered. She had only meant to defend Aurora without wounding him.
The problem was that the truth often did both.
“When would you like to begin?” she asked him softly.
“As soon as I return from my business trip.”
“Business trip?” This was the first time she had heard about it.
“Yes, I have some tenant disputes to solve.”
“Your Grace—”