Page 38 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)

That evening, Sophie’s brave smile didn’t fool Octavius for a moment. He could see the tension around her eyes, the careful way she held herself sitting propped up in her bed. He stood to fetch another pillow and put it under Sophie’s ankle.

He sat back on the edge of her bed. “Better?”

Her face slackened in relief and she nodded. Coming to the children’s bedchamber had become a ritual over the past few days, one that he could no longer live without.

The strange men who had pursued Miss Fields in Hyde Park, resulting in Sophie’s injury, still troubled him—especially given what had occurred at the Marvels of Electricity event today—and he was going to get some answers later.

Right now, his whole focus was Sophie. After their return from the show, his physician had looked her over again.

He determined her ankle was still sprained from the fall.

She’d also complained about a sore throat that she’d had for a few days without telling anyone.

With his legs crossed, James read a mechanical treatise on the floor. A month ago, Octavius couldn’t have imagined seeing him like that, all sedate and studious. Margaret was curled in the armchair by the window with a biography.

“Are you sad you had to miss the Marvels of Electricity?” he asked Sophie fondly.

She fingered the edge of a book that lay on her blanket. “I am.”

“You were greatly missed.”

“Oh, but Miss Fields will take me again once my leg is better, if they have the exhibition again, I mean.”

“Of course. I will join, if you will allow.”

The small girl nodded and gave him a tentative smile. “I’ll allow.”

“And how’s the pain, my dear?”

She gave a brave nod. “My ankle is perfectly well. Much better already. I’ll be running away from the inquisition in no time.”

A little girl wasn’t supposed to put on a brave face and maintain her composure when she was in pain.

Octavius normally wouldn’t talk about feelings, would feel as though a stone in his throat blocked all words of emotion, but seeing her suffer this way, especially when he felt responsible, was worse.

He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to pretend for my sake, my darling Sophie. You’re not in trouble. You’re allowed to cry and be angry. I— we are all worried about you and want you to be safe and well again.”

He felt the surprised gazes of James and Margaret on him, but it was Sophie who concerned him the most. Her big blue eyes softened and tears welled in them. “It—it does hurt, Your Grace.”

He reached out and squeezed her hand lying over the open book. Who was he, providing physical comfort? Two weeks ago, he’d be standing awkwardly at the doorframe wishing he had it in him. Now he was consoling a child. And nothing felt more right.

“I wish I could take your pain, Sophie,” he said gruffly. “Give it to me, darling. It doesn’t serve you at all, and I’m as big as a boar. I can take so much more than you.”

Her face brightened even through tears. “Don’t talk nonsense, Your Grace! I can’t just give pain to you. Besides, knights don’t flinch from a little sprain! It’ll be better tomorrow.”

He grinned. “You’re a strong and admirable young lady. Are you still reading The Four Chevaliers ?”

“Third time through already.”

Her French was effortless, while his…

Octavius had been practicing with Miss Fields for a few days now.

To their astonishment he’d improved quite a bit.

Why, earlier today he’d read a simple fable in under a quarter of an hour.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t smooth.

It was slow, and he stumbled a few times, but compared to how he was before, it was something close to a miracle.

He knew deep inside that it wasn’t due to any talent he possessed. It was Temperance’s praise, her encouragement, and her soft, loving effect on him. He felt at ease, like he didn’t need to hide his broken parts from her and could just…be.

“Would you read it to me?” Sophie asked, cutting through his thoughts.

The question made fear jolt inside him. He’d make mistakes and appear foolish. She’d see how bad of a reader he really was.

But then he thought…so what? Wouldn’t it be a compliment to her own skills that she read better than a grown, educated man of one and thirty? He’d give her that. That, and more, even if it was at his own expense.

Octavius picked up the book. “Of course.”

Sophie’s eyes lit up, a delightful sight that shot warmth straight through his heart.

James and Margaret came over to sit on Sophie’s bed, the boy’s eyes soft and the eldest of the siblings looking very much like a little lady.

In only four short years, Octavius would need to introduce her to London society and find her an appropriate husband, and he already knew there wouldn’t be a single man worthy of this sweet, smart girl.

He sighed inwardly. He doubted he could ever be strong enough to part from her. From any of them.

Octavius opened the book and first slowly, then with more enthusiasm as he found his flow, began reading. Sophie helped; whenever he stumbled, she pronounced the word for him. Perhaps she could be his second French tutor.

They had reached the scene where Roland and his two loyal friends had just saved the fourth knight, Gautier, from holy inquisition by pure luck—but they didn’t know Gautier well yet.

The knights and soldiers of the inquisition followed and reached them. The four of them, including Gautier, drew together, backs to each other, swords at the ready.

“Just three against so many,” said Roland, watching the soldiers advance. “We cannot win.”

Gautier pushed the visor of his helm down. “Oh, no, good sir. I may be beaten and tortured, but I shall protect you three until a sword pierces my heart. I owe you my freedom.”

Montagu exchanged a twinkly gaze with Roland and Severin. “So, it seems, we are no longer three.”

Severin grinned. “Four knights. Four Chevaliers.”

Gautier raised his sword into the air, and the three other knights did the same, the tips of their blades touching. “Together, undefeatable.”

The words sank into Octavius’s heart. Undefeatable. Four knights.

He felt Sophie’s hand find his and clutched it as he repeated the words, and there they were, huddled together on her bed. No longer three. One little family.

A family of four.

Somewhere at the very back of his throat was a scratch and tears blurred his vision. For the first time since they were brought to him to be their guardian, Octavius felt like they were one family, indeed.

This was a new kind of pleasure. He’d never known the simple joy of being surrounded by those who truly mattered to him—those he was meant to protect and cherish.

And almost immediately fear chilled his bones. Would this moment of happiness be just a moment? Would he eventually fail these children as his father had failed him?

Part of him slipped to thinking about the political dinner he had to host tomorrow. Another part wondered what would happen once he achieved his goal to become the president of the Board of Trade and could return to his regular pleasures.

Could he ever combine the two? The old him who lived for indulgence, and this new him who could read in French to his three young wards and gain their trust and love so tender, so gentle on the palm of his hand, the greatest gift he felt they could give him?

And then there was Miss Temperance Fields, that feisty governess who had consumed him wholly for weeks.

He paused reading for a moment as he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye.

In the crack of the door she stood with a beautiful smile on her face and a hand drawn to her mouth, her eyes glistening with tears as she watched him.

His heart swelled and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his own lips.

He liked the new Octavius he was now, but the question was, could he be fulfilled for the rest of his life, or would he snap back into his old ways of indulgence—and hurt everyone around him?

When Octavius finished the chapter, the children reluctantly allowed themselves to be tucked in for the night, and he set the book aside. “Rest well, my little chevaliers .”

He followed Temperance into the corridor, closing the children’s bedchamber door softly behind them.

“A moment, Miss Fields,” Octavius murmured, taking her gently by the elbow.

She turned, something in his tone causing her to stiffen slightly. “Yes, Your Grace?”

Octavius…call me Octavius.

He watched her in the light of the wall sconce, trying to read the secrets she was hiding behind those stormy gray eyes; the secrets—he had a suspicion that churned his gut sour—that might take her away from him.

“Come with me to my study. We can’t be caught talking alone so intimately in darkness. ”

Octavius proceeded through the dark corridor and down one flight of stairs, intending to enter his study.

But when they reached the bottom of the staircase, fate appeared to have another plan.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs along with voices—Mrs. Davies with a maid, probably to make sure his bedchamber was ready for the night.

Not wanting the other staff to see them together like this—or they might gossip and make Miss Fields’s life more difficult than it should be—he grabbed her by the arm and hurried down the other wing of the floor into the darkness…

Miss Fields at his side, he entered the only room he knew Mrs. Davies and the maid wouldn’t set foot in at this hour.

His room of sin.

Locking the door behind him, he proceeded to light the candles.

It was cold in here as he hadn’t entered the room since the incident with Celeste.

Miss Fields stood silently while he set a blaze in the grate.

The room that had been his sanctuary, his source of relief, welcomed him and the woman he loved.

The thought knocked all wind out of him.

“Didn’t you say you’d do it to me only once, Your Grace?” she asked.