Letty blinked. She had not known Iris to use that name for the duke before, and she quickly glanced at him, worried he might dismiss the child.
But, if anything, he looked even more gentle and soft as he watched Iris than he had a moment ago.
“Hermes and I are fighting the dreadful Titans,” Iris explained, executing a vicious kick at the air that had her tumbling straight onto her bottom. Before either duke or governess could make a single move toward her, she had popped back up onto her feet, clearly unharmed.
“The Titans?” Ezra asked, lowering himself onto the blanket, his gaze never leaving the little girl.
There was plenty of space between them, but still, Letitia froze like a rabbit who knew it had been scented by the fox.
“Oh, yes,” Iris said eagerly. “They were very bad people who were always troubling the old gods, like Hermes. Very naughty,” she said, her voice going low to impress the seriousness of this upon her guardian.
“I see,” Ezra said, nodding. “Is Miss Knightley teaching you about these myths?”
He spared a glance at Letty, who shook her head. She knew her myths, of course, and knew them to be popular with children, but she had not taught Iris any of them.
“Oh, no,” Iris said. There was a pause, and when she spoke again, her voice held a tinge of sadness. “It was Mama who told me.”
In unison, Ezra and Letitia went still.
“Did she?” Ezra asked after a beat, with an impressive show of nonchalance. “She must have been a very good storyteller.”
Iris smiled and nodded, but that sorrowful air still hovered around her.
“I miss my mama,” she said, her words faint and heartbreaking.
And then, to Letitia’s never-ending surprise, Ezra opened his arms to the girl. And Iris threw herself into them.
“I know, darling,” she heard him murmur into Iris’ hair. “I am sorry.”
Hermes nipped at Iris’ hem, seemingly able to tell she needed comfort and distraction, and the little girl’s face brightened again, even though her eyes were still red with unshed tears.
Letitia waited until Iris was back out of earshot, happily explaining to the dog what she was sniffing—rocks, mostly, but also some tree roots and grass—before she spoke to Ezra.
“You suspect something,” she accused.
He was still watching Iris, and she could not quite tell if it was a relief or not that he didn’t look at her. Any distance between them… It was sensible. But it felt wrong.
“Something,” he confirmed vaguely.
She had the sneaking suspicion that he knew that she would find this answer irritating. It was bizarre that she could read a gentleman—a duke, no less—so easily. Dukes should be inscrutable. She was so far beneath them that she should not be able toseehim, let alone sense his thoughts as if he was shouting them directly into her ear.
“And you don’t plan to tell me what it is,” she said, not certain if it was a question.
The corner of his mouth ticked up, a recognition but not quite an apology.
“Not yet,” he said. “Has Iris mentioned the myths before?”
Letitia blinked at this sudden shift in topic.
“Well, yes,” she said. “The dog—she named the dog Hermes. It’s hardly a name she would have heard around your average village, is it?”
“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” he demanded.
He still wasn’t looking at her, so she indulged herself in a robust eyeroll.
“Half the children in England know those stories,” she pointed out. And, yes, I assumed her mother had told her, but she had not precisely said as much.”
This time, she was the one who didn’t meet his gaze. She could feel him turn toward her, could feel the burning intensity of his gaze.
