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“These are for you. Because you’re going to be our new aunt.”

Before Abigail could respond, the other girl stepped forward with quiet grace. Her pink dress was immaculate, and her ribbon perfectly tied. “And I’m Mary Ann,” she said, dropping a precise curtsey.“You were supposed to do that first,” she whispered to her sister.

Heather huffed and rolled her eyes before offering a half hearted curtsey as she peered around Abigail and waved at the staff still gathered on the stairs. They all exchanged glances before Wilkins gave a short wave in return.

“These are for you as well.” Mary Ann said and extended a smaller, carefully arranged bundle of violets and white daisies.

Abigail smiled at the girls. “Thank you, both of you. They’re beautiful.” She glanced at Graham, who observed from a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze roamedover the girls as if searching for a crack in porcelain. He looked up at Abigail. Raw, ragged emotion—grief mixed up with hope—reflected in his eyes before he looked away.

The governess placed a steadying hand on both girls’ shoulders. “They gathered them this morning, just before we left. They’ve been most excited to meet you. I’m Beatrix Norwood. A pleasure, ma’am.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Abigail said, drawing her attention back to the little girls before her.

Heather, all impulse and noise, grabbing attention like a spark in dry grass. Mary Ann, measured and meticulous—earning her place with perfection because she knew she couldn’t outrun her sister’s fire.

Abigail’s heart twisted.

“Shall we go inside?” Abigail said.“I’m sure you’re hungry after your journey.”

Beatrix inclined her head. “A wise suggestion. There’s only so long I can keep these two from cartwheeling up the stair railings.”

Heather perked up. “Can we?”

“No,” Beatrix replied. “That was illustrative, not permissive.” She ushered her charges inside.

Abigail lingered, waiting as Graham moved to join her.

“They’ve grown,” he said.

Abigail studied his profile, noting the way his gaze followed the girls as they disappeared through the grand entrance. For just a moment, something unguarded flickered across his face—a mixture of wonder and regret.

“When did you last see them?” she asked.

Graham’s jaw tightened. “Several months ago. They were quieter then. More...” He trailed off, searching for the word.

“Broken?” Abigail supplied.

He nodded once, a sharp movement. “Ms. Norwood has done well with them.”

Abigail touched his arm lightly. “Whatever is troubling you, it won’t change my commitment to those girls—or to you.”

His shoulders tensed and for a heartbeat, his carefully constructed walls seemed to waver. He turned to her, his blue eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“I only want to protect you,” he said. “All of you.”

Before she could respond, he straightened, withdrawing, and the moment was gone. The fortress rebuilt in an instant.

“We should join them,” he said, offering his arm with formal courtesy. “The staff will be waiting.”

Abigail accepted, and he led her into her soon to be home. She crossed the threshold wondering what storm was brewing that made this soldier-physician-duke so afraid.

CHAPTER 13

Blood turned the water pink as Graham rinsed away the last traces of surgery. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. Satisfaction hummed through him.

The man would live.

“Remarkable work, Redchester,” Dr. Finlay, St. Bartholomew’s attending physician for the night, murmured. The older man’s eyes were rimmed with exhaustion but bright with professional admiration. “I’ve never seen anyone work so quickly with that sort of hemorrhage.”