Page 61 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

She squeezed Seraphina’s hand.

“Even when Mama does come into my dreams now... she is not scary anymore,” Alice added gently. “She looks pretty sometimes, like she used to when she was... not dead. I thought the nightmares would never end. I thought they would stay inside my head forever. But the stories fixed them.”

Horror at what the child had endured, mixed with an overwhelming wave of profound reverence, surged through Seraphina’s entire being. That ordeal... a toddler trapped in a room with her deceased mother, entirely abandoned to the dark before anyone had realized what had happened. It was a trauma so profound, so devastating, that it rendered all of Seraphina’s theories about human resilience completely useless.

Yet here was this fragile girl, using the very scientific principles Seraphina held dear to piece her own shattered world back together.

Seraphina, who prided herself on detachment and analyzing life through the cool lens of reason, felt her logical defenses shatter into dust. Tears burned fiercely behind her eyelids, spilling over her lashes before she could stop them.

Without a word, she pulled Alice flush against her chest.

Alice gasped softly in surprise, but then her arms reached around Seraphina, burying her face into Seraphina’s shoulder.

“I am so proud of you, Alice,” Seraphina wept softly, holding the child with an iron strength, her hand gently cradling the back of Alice’s head. “I am so, so proud of how brave you are. But listen to me now. You are never, ever going to be left alone in the dark again. It is a big house. With a lot of people.”

She pulled back just enough to frame Alice’s small face in her hands, forcing the child to see the truth shining in her eyes.

“Whenever the dark grows too quiet, whenever those memories try to creep back in, you do not have to stay silent,” Seraphina declared, her voice trembling. “You call out. You shout, you ring your bell, or you send for me. I will come to this room every single time. William will come. We will bring every book in the library if we must! You are safe here. I am sure your Mama wants to be here too, but just... try to live with the assurance that your mother is at peace, and no bad dream can reach through these walls to harm you.”

Alice stared at her, and slowly, she nodded. “Can we read more about the stars tomorrow?” Alice snuffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“Yes, we can,” Seraphina said, giggling. “We shall read every treatise, every diagram, and every volume on the universe until you know every constellation by heart.”

A long sigh escaped Alice’s chest. She sank back into her pillows, her heavy eyelids fluttering as the exhaustion caught up with her.

Seraphina stayed there, gently brushing soft curls away from Alice’s forehead, smoothing her hand over the quilt until the child’s breathing evened out into a slow cadence.

Just as Seraphina reached out to turn down the small nightlamp, Alice moved slightly beneath the covers. Her eyes opened just a sliver, misty with impending sleep.

“Your Grace?” Alice murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes, dear?”

“Will you be here forever?” Alice asked softly, her tiny hand reaching out to weakly clasp a fold of Seraphina’s dress. “You will stay?”

Seraphina froze. Her mind instantly spun backward to the reality of her life, the contract, the arrangements, the transactional marriage she had forged with William. They were bound by a temporary agreement, a functional alliance designed solely to protect her, safeguard his ward, and unmask a blackmailer. The terms had been crystal clear from the beginning. Once their goals were accomplished, once Alice was healed and the mystery solved, the marriage would be annulled. They would part ways.

She was not meant to stay. She was merely a temporary guardian, a passing figure in a grand house, destined to leave once her duty was done.

“Alice...” Seraphina began softly, her throat constricting so tightly that the words tasted like ash.

She opened her mouth to construct a rational, careful response that would soothe the child without uttering a lie. But the words died before they could form.

How could she speak of annulments and contractual timelines to a child who had just laid bare the horrors of her past?

How could she tell this fragile little girl that the woman promising to protect her from the dark was already preparing her own exit?

Seraphina stared down into Alice’s heavy-lidded eyes, entirely paralyzed by her own deception. Her vast academic vocabulary, her brilliant logic, her years of studying philosophy... none of it offered her a single sentence that was both honest and merciful.

Before Seraphina could force a word past her lips, Alice’s eyes drifted fully closed. Her grip on Seraphina’s skirt loosened, her hand falling limply onto the mattress as she slipped completely into a deep rest.

Seraphina sat motionless beside the bed for a long time, the silence of the room pressing heavily against her chest.

Slowly, carefully, Seraphina stood up on trembling legs. She pulled the quilt over Alice’s shoulders, lingering to brush a soft kiss against the top of the child’s head. Then she turned and walked to the door, stepping out into the corridor.

As the door shut behind her, Alice’s unanswered question settled deep into Seraphina’s soul. For the first time since she had signed her name to the marriage register, Seraphina stood alone in the dark, questioning not her logic, but her heart, and wondering how she could ever bear to walk away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE