Chapter 5 #3
“I am Lady Cordelia Darington,” she said, straightening her spine and lifting her chin with immense pride. “I am the oldest twin, you see. Even if it is only by a few minutes, that still makes me the eldest sister, which means I am technically in charge when Georgianna is being stubborn.”
“I take it Georgianna is your sister, the second twin?”
“Yes.”
Euphemia’s smile widened. “Noted.”
Cordelia leaned in a fraction, her green eyes wide with curiosity as she looked over Euphemia. “You must be our papa’s new wife. The Duchess.”
Euphemia’s smile waned. She swallowed the brief ache and brushed it off, refusing to let the girl see her hesitation.
“I am,” Euphemia replied softly. “My name is Euphemia.”
A sudden thought flashed through Euphemia’s mind.
She knew she shouldn’t be standing there having a pleasant chat.
She had explicitly given her word to Nathaniel just the day before that she would adhere to his terms and stay away from his daughters.
She had promised to stay on her side of the line.
But it had been a dreadfully long, miserable morning, and this vibrant little girl was the first real sign of life she had encountered in this entire gray fortress.
Besides, she reasoned to herself, they had simply bumped into each other.
It wasn’t as if she had actively gone hunting for the children in the nursery.
Surely a polite conversation after an accidental meeting was entirely excusable.
“It is very nice to meet you, Your Grace,” Cordelia said. “Papa told us we ought to give you your space because you were very busy with your new duties. We are not supposed to speak to you. But I reckon Barnaby insisted on saying hello.”
“Well, I am very glad Barnaby is so terribly disobedient,” Euphemia laughed, reaching out to scratch the retriever behind his ears. “Do you love dogs very much, Cordelia?”
“Oh, passionately!” Cordelia declared, throwing her arms around Barnaby’s neck again, completely indifferent. “I want to have a dozen of them. Papa says one large hound is quite enough for the conservatory, but I am currently working on a very logical argument to convince him otherwise.”
Euphemia let out a bright, genuine laugh at that, the sound echoing delightfully across the conservatory. “A logical argument? It sounds as though you have inherited your father’s talent for negotiations, Cordelia.”
Gently guiding the young girl toward a low, cushioned stone bench nestled among a row of vibrant orange trees, Euphemia sat down, smoothing the silk of her skirts.
Cordelia scrambled up right beside her without an ounce of hesitation, and sat by her side.
She patted her lap so Barnaby could rest his massive, furry chin across her knees.
“What of your twin sister... Georgianna? Does she share your passionate love for dogs as well?”
“Oh, heavens, no,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes in a grand, theatrical gesture.
“Georgianna cannot bear the mud, and she says Barnaby smells like wet wool. My sister is much more reserved than I am. She is very quiet, she prefers her books, and she rarely wishes to come outside at all. I am entirely the one who gets into trouble in our nursery.”
Euphemia giggled as fond nostalgia washed over her.
“You know, that sounds remarkably familiar. I have two sisters of my own, and we are just as different. My sister Leonora is very quiet and reserved, much like your Georgianna. But my other sister, Seraphina, is entirely different. She is incredibly outspoken, she loves dogs, and she is very smart and intelligent, just like you.”
Cordelia’s cheeks flushed a sweet, rosy pink at the compliment.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she mumbled, looking down at Barnaby’s ears before looking back up.
“To be honest, Papa told us that we ought to avoid you. I do not think you’re busy.
I think he just doesn’t want us to talk to you.
But I truly wanted to get to know you. Technically, you see, you are our new mama. ”
The word caught in Euphemia’s throat, spreading a sudden, profound warmth through her entire chest. It was a beautiful, terrifying thing to hear. Despite the cold warnings of the Duke and the rigid rules of the house, the little girl was simply looking for someone to call mother.
“I should like to get to know you very much as well, Cordelia,” Euphemia said softly. She offered a small, comforting smile. “I know what it is like to navigate the world without a mother’s guidance. My own mama passed away when I was a baby. I had to lean on my sisters growing up.”
Cordelia nodded solemnly, her small fingers stroking the dog’s fur. “My mama passed away too. I never got to meet her at all. I do not even know what she looks like.”
Cordelia’s words struck Euphemia right in the gut.
To have lost a mother was a tragedy, but to not even possess a single memory, or a portrait to look upon, was an entirely different level of sorrow that she understood well.
A deep, aching sadness welled up in Euphemia’s chest. Without thinking, Euphemia reached out and gently patted the girl’s back, pulling her just a fraction closer.
“I am so terribly sorry, my dear,” Euphemia murmured.
How on earth was she supposed to keep her promise to Nathaniel now?
She had agreed to stay on her side of the line, vowing to live like an invisible ghost and avoid his children at all costs.
But she had been at Greymoor for less than a day, and she was already becoming deeply, fiercely attached to one of them.
The fortress walls the Duke had built were crumbling, and Euphemia had no idea how to stop herself from caring.