“Thank you,” she said. “She’s so fluffy.”
Letitia could swear that she watched the duke’s heart break open. It was a joy to see.
“You are very welcome, Iris,” he said, looking down to where her hand still rested atop his. “Very welcome, indeed.”
* * *
Ezra wasbuzzingwith excitement.
It was absurd, really. He didn’t know why he should be quitethisutterly pleased that Iris had deigned to talk to him. She was, after all, just one little girl.
But he was. He hadbeenbuzzing for the past few hours, ever since Iris and Miss Knightley took the new puppy up to the nursery to begin acclimating the dog to the house, and vice versa. He was sufficiently delighted that, when a knock at the study door revealed Miss Knightley, he didn’t even pause to think before he swept her up in his arms and spun her in a joyous circle. She let out a startled bark of laughter, pressing her hands to his chest as he lifted her off the ground. Deep dimples carved themselves into her cheeks as she grinned, and he could see each pop of color in the freckles that speckled her nose.
Then, he remembered himself. He forced his arms to release her.
“Sorry, I?—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off, which really was notpreciselythe recommended way to respond to a duke, but Ezra was relieved anyway.
“I take it you were pleased with Iris’ reaction to the puppy?” she asked, still laughing.
“Beyond pleased,” he admitted, dropping into a chair and casually waving at the chair across from him, which she took. This pleased him, too. He had not given her any real reason to feel so comfortable with him, to treat him like any other man.
But she did. Miss Letitia Knightley, with her generous heart.
“You cannot possibly be as pleased as Iris,” she said, smiling broadly. “She has named the dog Hermes, by the way. She was entirely unbothered by my observation that this was, traditionally speaking, a male name. She insisted,andshe has already told me that Hermes is her dearest friend and that they are going to do everything together, and that they will learn tricks to show you.”
“To show me?” Somehow, the idea made the world seem even brighter.
“Indeed.” Miss Knightley looked genuinely pleased for him. But then, a flicker of something less certain crossed her face. “Although Iris did say something today that I thought you ought to know.”
Her expression dampened his enthusiasm. No—it was outright dread that pierced him.
“Oh, yes?”
“I asked about her medallion,” the governess said, her fingers tapping restlessly on the arm of the chair. “And she said that her mother was a Lightholder.”
“She really said that?”
The medallion indicated that the little girl was somehow associated with his family. He’d known this from the start. But for the child, through her mother, to outright claim that she was a Lightholder?
It wasn’t as though the thought had never occurred to him, but he had not considered it likely.
“She didn’t say anything more,” Miss Knightley said, frowning in concern. “I don’t think sheknewanything more. She said ‘Lighthomer’ at first, but recognized the proper name. She did say her mother was dead, though.”
“Oh, hell and damnation,” Ezra muttered, massaging the space between his eyes. Then, he glanced up. “Apologies, Miss Knightley.”
Again, she waved him off.
“I have heard worse. And I can’t deny that I thought much the same when she told me. That poor girl.”
Ezra nodded, thinking. “And her father?”
The governess shook her head. “She didn’t mention anyone, and I didn’t pry. But I got the implication that it was just her and her mother, alone. Nor did she say how she got here,” she added before he could ask.
He nodded again.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Miss Knightley asked after a moment. “That her mother was truly a member of your family?”
