“Putting aside the question about whether you are scary,” she said very mildly.
“Which I amnot.”
“I feel you can accept that you are absolutely not ‘a normal person,’” she went on as if he had not spoken. “You’re a duke.”
Well, that was undeniable, but…
“Children don’t know about aristocratic social hierarchies,” he argued.
“Children know more than you think,” she corrected, this time without a hint of humor. “But it’s not the title itself. It’s that you are…” She waved a hand up and down. “Polished. You carry your power about you like a cloud. It isn’t bad, not necessarily,” she added. “But intimidating. Especially to a little girl.”
He wanted to argue again, but he stopped himself. Hadn’t he brought her here—had he notinsistedthat she come here—because she was skilled with children? And, even if he had not believed that, the way she’d spoken with Iris in the nursery just now would have served as proof.
So, he made himself listen.
“Very well,” he said, huffing slightly. “What can I do to make myself less intimidating to her, then?”
Miss Knightley looked surprised, then pleased. He appreciated that she wasn’t hiding her emotions from him, and he was glad that he had made her happy.
After a moment’s consideration, during which she watched him with frank assessment, she said, “Give her something to talk to youabout. You have been kind to her, no doubt. Her room is lovely; her things are lovely. But she knows enough to know that a grand gentleman doesn’t want to talk about little girls’ dresses.” Her smile was gentle. “That’s why she talks about them with me.”
Ezra considered this, then nodded. Indeed, he didnothave anything interesting to say about little girls’ dresses. He’d sent his housekeeper to purchase Iris’ wardrobe, after all.
“Do you have any suggestions?” he asked. He received another of Miss Knightley’s pleased smiles for his trouble.
“I do…” she said hesitantly. “How do you feel about puppies?”
“Puppies?” he echoed.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “And the cute, floppy, utterly useless kind—not a sensible hound or farm dog or anything like that. Iris adores them. Every time we go out to walk, she goes simply mad for every puppy she sees.”
“A puppy,” Ezra repeated. He could manage a puppy… especially since he wouldn’t have to actuallymanagethe thing. It would be Iris’ dog. And he could pet it sometimes, he supposed.
“Preferably one of that kind that always looks as though they’re about to topple over,” Miss Knightley added, flapping her hands in front of her in a way that he supposed was meant to illustrate a set of ungainly paws. It was rather adorable.
“Right,” he said. “I can get her one of those—” He tried to copy her movements. She bit her lip. “—floppy ones.”
“She will love it,” Miss Knightley assured him. “And it will keep her company, if…”
If he sent her away. She didn’t say it, but she didn’t need to.
He wanted to reassure her, but he feared that after the incident between them, it might seem like he was trapping her here.
God, I have really cocked things up, haven’t I?
“I will do that,” he said, nodding. “I will find a dog that’s good with children.”
“Wonderful,” Miss Knightley said.
There was a beat, the air thick between them with awkwardness. She looked away from his face, casting her eyes down like a demure servant. He hated it.
One more breath passed, then Miss Knightley stepped around him, preparing to head back to the nursery. On impulse, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her, then let it go as if he’d been burned.
Still, she stopped, looking first down at her hand, then up at him—curious, but not alarmed.
He cleared his throat.
“I... Miss Knightley. I really must apologize—again—for the other evening.”
