Page 31 of Duke of Emeralds (Dukes of Decadence #2)

“ Y our Grace is looking remarkably well this morning,” Mrs. Smith said as she sat in the chair adjacent to Hester’s in the drawing room. “And I am pleased to report that the child’s cough is all but gone.”

Hester, her hand poised over the handle of the teapot, found herself smiling back. “Arabella is improved, then?”

“She is, Your Grace. She ate two eggs and a full orange this morning and has been up and dressed since before the bells. She has also taken to exploring the castle halls. I had to order her back to rest an hour ago.”

It was possible, Hester thought, to feel proud of a child not her own. She set the cup aside and leaned forward. “Mrs. Smith, His Grace and I have decided to keep the girl on as our ward. I expect you already guessed as much.”

Mrs. Smith’s eyes moved to the closed door then back.

“If I may be so bold, Your Grace. Lushton Castle has never been a home to the unfortunate, but I am happy that is changing. It would be my pleasure to see her thrive here. And,” the woman offered a rare smile, “to keep the details of her parentage among those who have already guessed.”

Hester tensed, hoping the housekeeper did not assume Arabella belonged to Thomas. As if Mrs. Smith could read her thoughts, she said, “The late Duke’s errors are no child’s fault, and I will help you spare Miss Arabella any shame.”

“Thank you,” Hester sighed with relief.

Mrs. Smith’s lips compressed. “The former Duke was not a man to hide his appetites. It is a comfort to us all that the new one has sense, and—” she coughed delicately “—a temperate disposition.”

Hester wanted to laugh, or perhaps embrace the housekeeper, for her deftness in condemning the old Duke while praising the new. “I will rely on your discretion.”

A silence, not at all awkward, passed between them. “About the governess you instructed me to find for Miss Arabella. I received word from a Miss Margaret Wilmot, and she arrives this afternoon to meet you.”

Hester brightened. “That is excellent.”

“I have readied the green salon.”

Hester sipped her tea, but her mind was already racing ahead to the prospect of an afternoon spent interviewing the woman for Bella’s care. “If Arabella is well enough, I should like her to attend the meeting. Her opinion must weigh in our decision.”

Mrs. Smith permitted herself a half-smile. “Very sensible, Your Grace.” She added, as if it were a matter of mere routine.

“It is not always easy for children to adapt to new circumstances.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Smith replied. She rose, tucked her hands behind her back, and cast one last approving glance around the room. “I shall see to the arrangements at once, Your Grace.”

No sooner had the housekeeper left than Slater appeared in the doorway. “A Miss Margaret Wilmot has arrived, Your Grace.”

Hester’s brow arched in surprise. “Early? The hour is barely ten.”

“She apologized profusely. There was a favorable wind, and the coachman dared not miss it as I understood her.”

Hester smiled despite herself. “Have Mrs. Smith meet me in the green salon and show Miss Wilmot there too.”

“At once, Your Grace.”

She moved briskly to her own chambers, where Miss Holt was already laying out a suitable frock and taming Hester’s hair into a sleek, low knot. She wanted to appear neither frivolous nor severe—just the right blend of maternal competence and intellectual authority.

Within a quarter hour, she descended to the green salon and found Mrs. Smith adjusting the drapes to catch the morning sun, and standing near to one side was a young woman with blonde hair and soft brown eyes.

“Your Grace, this is Miss Wilmot,” Mrs. Smith introduced.

Miss Wilmot curtsied, her bearing as composed as that of a seasoned governess though she could not be more than six or seven years older than Hester herself.

She wore dark blue, the sleeves carefully mended at the elbows, and carried a small leather valise.

Her gloves were worn but immaculately clean.

Hester offered her a welcoming smile. “Miss Wilmot. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, for receiving me. I am honored to be considered.”

For the next half hour, Miss Wilmot answered Hester’s questions about curriculum, discipline, and the requirements for instructing a child of indeterminate birth with poised, intelligent replies.

She recited the opening of the Iliad in passable Greek and read a paragraph of Rousseau in French for Mrs. Smith’s benefit.

When Hester inquired about music and painting, the woman smiled. “My method of teaching music is both through daily exposure and careful imitation.”

“You seem to possess all the right skills,” Hester said at last, setting her notes aside. “But the child in question is… very reserved and has known a good deal of instability.”

“I am acquainted with difficult children, Your Grace. My previous situation was as governess to the youngest daughter of Lady Eastgate, who suffered from what the doctors called melancholia. She did not speak for a year, but I gained her confidence through kindness and patience. I can provide references if you wish.”

“I will require them,” Hester said. “But I suspect you and Arabella will suit each other.”

Miss Wilmot regarded Hester across the polished table. “Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but may I ask: Will the child remain in your care long term? I understand from Mrs. Smith that she has been at Lushton castle for less than a sennight.”

Hester considered. “Miss Arabella is our ward, and we mean for her to have every advantage we can provide.”

Miss Wilmot nodded, her face softening a little. “I understand perfectly.”

Hester studied her for a moment, deciding, and then said, “Would you care to join us on a walk, Miss Wilmot? I should like to see how you and Arabella get on.”

“I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

They left the salon and crossed the foyer where the maid looking after Arabella, appeared, leading her by the hand. The child wore a gray wool dress, and her hair had been neatly combed. She eyed the newcomer with the wary intelligence of a cat confronted by an unfamiliar dog.

“Bella, my dear,” Hester said, leaning over her, “this is Miss Margaret Wilmot. She may become your governess if you approve.”

Bella said nothing but did not look away. Miss Wilmot bent down so that her eyes were nearly level with the child’s. “May I walk with you, Miss Arabella?”

Bella did not answer, but when Miss Wilmot extended her hand, she took it—cautiously, with the air of someone reserving judgement.

They stepped out into the bright, wind-sharp air of the garden. Hester fell back half a pace, watching as the governess pointed out a robin in the hedge and asked Bella if she knew its song. The child did not respond at first, but after a moment, she mimicked the robin’s call perfectly.

Miss Wilmot looked back at Hester with a small, victorious smile.

They moved on to the edge of the grounds where the roses bloomed. Here, Bella seemed to thaw; she bent over a white blossom, inspected it, then said softly, “It will not last when the summer goes.”

Miss Wilmot crouched beside her. “No, it won’t. But if you like, we can press it in a book and keep it forever.”

The girl’s eyes widened. She nodded, and Miss Wilmot produced a little folded paper from her pocket, wrapped the rose carefully, and handed it to Bella.

They walked for nearly an hour, and by the end of it, Hester was convinced.

Miss Wilmot had guided Bella through a lesson in natural history, a brief geography of the estate, and even coaxed a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer out of her.

Not once did she condescend or patronize.

She treated Bella as a peer, not a project.

On their return to the castle, Hester steered them past a confectioner’s cart that had been stationed at the gate. She bought Bella a twist of candied lemon peel which the girl accepted with a polite “thank you, Your Grace” and immediately offered to share with Miss Wilmot.

In the front hall, they found Thomas speaking with the steward. He looked up as the little group entered, and his gaze—unreadable—went from Bella to Hester then to the stranger at her side.

“Ye have brought home a stranger, Duchess,” he said, his lips twitching at the corners.

“This is Miss Wilmot,” Hester said, introducing her. “She is here for the position of governess.”

Thomas regarded the governess. “Ye have your work cut out for you, Miss Wilmot. Arabella’s a shyer one than most.”

Miss Wilmot smiled. “I rather like the shy ones, Your Grace. They are generally more interesting in the end.”

He nodded. “Aye. That’s often the case.” He looked down at Bella, who had withdrawn slightly behind Hester’s skirts. “And how is our little star this morning?”

Bella peered up at him. “I saw a robin,” she said.

Thomas crouched so that they were on the same level. “Did ye now? What did it say?”

Bella considered then, in a perfect imitation, sang, “Twit-twit-twit!”

Thomas laughed, a warm, booming sound that echoed off the high ceiling. “Ye’ve the ear of a Highland shepherd, lass.” He looked at Hester, pride written all over his features. “If she’s this clever after a week, imagine what she’ll be like by winter.”

A fierce, unexpected surge of longing welled in Hester’s chest. She wanted to see him crouched like that, teaching a child, every day of her life. The thought was so sudden and so intense that it nearly knocked her breathless.

She caught herself. No, absolutely not! She would not let this madness take root. Her marriage was a contract, not a fairy tale.

“Miss Wilmot will make a thorough governess,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I must speak with her to finalize arrangements. Could you spare a moment for Bella?”

Thomas’s eyes flashed with something like amusement. “I suppose I can spare a minute or two.”

“Thank you,” she said, perhaps a bit too crisply.

She watched as Thomas took Bella’s hand and led her away toward the conservatory. The child looked up at him with a smile, and Hester could hardly bear to watch them go.

She turned abruptly and led Miss Wilmot down the hallway toward her study, feeling the walls close in around her with every step.

I will not be ruled by this. I will not.

But the image of Thomas and Bella followed her all the way down the hall and lodged itself in her chest like a splinter she could neither dig out nor ignore.

She set her jaw and pressed on, determined to feel nothing at all.