Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
It had been three days since the duke’s departure.
And three days since he saw the color of Poppy’s eyes for the first time.
She carried the memory of his nearness, scent, and words with her even as she spent time with the girls.
She tried her best to avoid his study throughout the week, but it was seemingly impossible to avoid the memories it held.
“God, help me,” she muttered under her breath as she walked down a corridor toward the breakfast table.
Poppy caught a whiff of his cinnamon scent that seemed to haunt every corner and hallway, but she shrugged it off.
Mrs. Patterson did say that he would only return tomorrow.
It had been such a small moment between them.
There were no grand declarations and no impropriety that could be named and condemned.
Only the cold, brooding duke standing near enough that she had felt the change in the air between them, his attention fixed upon her with that grave intensity of his.
Poppy sometimes forgot that he was blind, so she could not help but wonder why her eye color mattered at all to him.
And how could such a simple interaction be the most intimate she had ever had with another human being?
Even thinking about it caused her skin to rise with goosebumps.
It made no sense. She was a married woman, though the marriage existed more in law than in habit, and she had been raised to understand that intimacy had a physical meaning.
No one had warned her that a man might unsettle her with his words.
Oh, Your Grace. What have you done to me?
“Poppy?” The sound of the duke’s voice made her gasp.
Poppy spun around to face him, and her breath caught.
She briefly imagined that perhaps she had said his name out loud and summoned him, but he seemed to have just arrived from his business trip.
His coat and hat hung loosely; he seemed rugged from the traveling, and a light stubble grew along his chiseled jaw.
He looked even more dangerously handsome, and it caused her stomach to flip ungracefully.
“Your Grace, you startled me.” She held her hand to her chest, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat.
Poppy was not expecting him to arrive so soon, but she felt delightfully surprised that he was there. She was beginning to think she had imagined their moment in his study.
“Are you off to breakfast?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.” She felt awkward then as he stared at her.
Can he see me clearly again? Is he noticing a flaw?
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“I just arrived. I think I will join you.” A valet appeared behind him and took his coat and hat away promptly.
Poppy gulped and nodded. She felt nervous around the duke all of a sudden, but it did not seem to faze him. They walked silently together, but she found herself glancing at him continuously. The breakfast room was quiet when they entered, and the morning light warmed Poppy’s skin even more.
His Grace walked to the head of the table, only stopping to pull a chair out for Poppy.
He wanted her next to him, and the thought of being so close to him again made her feel faint.
Poppy looked up at him and instantly blushed when she caught him staring at her already.
His light gray eyes pierced through her as if he could read her like an open book.
“If you would like to sit elsewhere—”
“No, this is all right. Thank you, Hector.” She froze; his name slipped out before she could stop herself.
But his expression did not alter; it was frustratingly unreadable, which made it worse. Heat rose in her face, this time from embarrassment.
“Forgive me. I did not mean—”
“Do not bother with correcting yourself,” he said, lowering himself into his chair. His hand found the edge of his cup with precise familiarity. “You have convinced the entire household to call my niece Princess, so I believe that we are past certain formalities.”
Poppy sat slowly, highly aware of his nearness. “That was Aurora’s doing more than mine.”
Their tea was poured shortly after, and they began their breakfast. Poppy could not keep her body still as it vibrated with the anticipation of his touch or even a simple look.
“You are aware that you endorsed it,” he said over the rim of his teacup.
Poppy chuckled. “She is a baby, and she cannot object.”
“Yes, infants rarely do. It is one of their more tolerable qualities.”
The corner of Poppy’s mouth moved before she could stop it. The remark was dry, but there was no real irritation beneath it. Or perhaps she had begun to hear him differently.
He took a measured sip. “From now on, I shall call you Poppy.”
When he said her name, it felt like a secret that only he could unlock.
“And you shall call me Hector,” he continued sternly, not leaving room for any questions or doubt.
“Are you certain?”
“You are my wife… I am most certain.”
Poppy’s breath hitched when he claimed her as his wife.
She believed him, and a comfortable silence followed.
The servants moved discreetly around them; plates were set down, and more tea was poured.
Poppy watched Hector’s hand as he ate, and she blushed, remembering how his strong fingers felt wrapped around her wrist.
“How are the girls?” he asked casually.
“They are much better.” She shook her head, and her train of thought scattered away. “Princess remains determined to rule the nursery by insistent crying, but she is eating more regularly. And Aurora has had two nights without waking in tears.”
Hector’s fingers stilled around his fork. “What do you mean?”
Poppy looked down at her plate to spare him the burden of being observed too closely. “She still wakes sometimes, but not as she did. She asks for Princess first, of course. Then she settles.”
“That is good.” He murmured. “And how are you?”
Poppy’s fingers froze mid-bite. “I am well, thank you.”
He placed his utensils down and seemed to be studying her. “I do not know much about you, or your true parents.”
Poppy felt her skin prickle under his gaze; her throat tightened as she remembered her parents and the torture she and her sister had been through.
It was no secret for a while; the entire ton spoke about them, but she did not expect a duke to entertain gossip anyhow.
Poppy looked at Hector then; her thoughts fought with each other until finally she decided that perhaps her husband should know the truth.
“My mother died during childbirth,” her voice cracked. She inhaled deeply, then continued, “and my father did not take her death well. He blamed me and… he began gambling. He conned a lot of people, got himself into a lot of trouble, and then he ran away. Abandoning my sister and me.”
“The Duchess of Pridewell,” he muttered more to himself.
Poppy shook her head. “Yes, Julia, Aunt Violet and Lady Georgia are all the family I have left. If it were not for them, I do not know what would have happened to me…” Poppy drifted into her thoughts, remembering a time that took her years to forget.
“I did not mean to upset you,” Hector said softly, and his kind tone almost undid her.
“I am not upset, truly. I just would never want someone to endure the life I had endured.” She offered him a smile, although it took all her strength.
Hector smiled back, but concern was etched into his features. “Is that why you have taken a liking to my nieces and the orphanage?”
“Yes,” Poppy admitted. “The orphanage, the children, and your nieces gave me a sense of purpose when I felt like I had none. It makes me happy when I help a child feel less alone.”
Thinking about the orphanage made her miss it even more. She looked at Hector, hoping that he would continue speaking, but he seemed to be deep in thought too. Poppy felt her eyes tear up and quickly decided to change the topic.
“Aurora asked for you,” she said softly.
Hector looked into her eyes then, and she held her breath. “She has? Even after I frightened her?”
Poppy felt her heart reach for him.
He truly cares.
“Yes, she did not see you in the study when she went to her closet this week, so she asked about you.” Poppy smiled at him then, and she noticed the corner of his mouth lift as his expression softened.
She could get used to this side of him. Although he struggled to suppress it.
“She should not have to think in such terms about me…of all people.” He grunted, and all the softness dispersed.
“No,” Poppy said softly. “She should not, but she did.”
He said nothing, and the quiet settled between them again.
After a moment, Poppy glanced toward him. “May I ask you something?”
Hector stared at her for a second before he nodded. “Proceed.”
“Did you have anything to do with the closet?”
He frowned as he forked his deviled egg. “As I said, it was Mrs. Patterson’s idea. I simply allowed her and the workmen to run with it.”
He reached for his cup, and Poppy waited as he drank.
She should have let it pass, but the question pressed at her with all the force of a thing that mattered because it had not been mentioned. “So you did not arrange it at all?”
His face remained unreadable. “Why does it matter? Is it inconvenient?”
“No. It is… very convenient.”
“Then I see no issue.”
That was not an answer. It was, in fact, so carefully not an answer that she felt certain it was one.
Poppy lowered her gaze before he could sense whatever had come into her expression.
He would likely have endured a wound more easily confessing that he cared so greatly for his nieces.
So much so that he built a hiding place for Aurora in his study.
Poppy knew that some quiet instruction had passed from him to the household, and because he said nothing of it, the act seemed even more intimate.
“You are right. There is no issue.” She smiled knowingly at him as she ate her cold, toasted bread.