Page 100 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“It is foolish, I know.”

“No, it is not at all.”

“It is. There are far graver disappointments in the world than not being asked to dance at a private ball.” She tried to play it off as if this were nothing.

“Grief does not become invalid because it is quiet. But perhaps you should understand why Hector did not ask you. I only meant to say that he is…”

Blind.

Poppy’s eyes stung with tears. “But he can see the shape of me, and that is all that matters.”

Julia exhaled loudly. “I do not understand his blindness, but it cannot be easy, Poppy.”

She felt as though they were young again, and Julia was correcting her bad behavior. Julia touched her arm. “Tell me what is truly troubling you.”

Poppy looked across the room where Hector was speaking to Leander now. He held himself as he always did, controlled and remote, but she had come to know the effort inside that control. Once, that knowledge had made her patient, but tonight, it made her ache.

“I thought I understood what I was agreeing to,” she said. “I was the one who asked for separate bedrooms. I know that. I was frightened, and I thought dignity required distance. Or perhaps I thought if I asked for nothing, I could never be refused.”

“That is a lonely bargain in a marriage.”

Poppy swallowed. “I did not know any better.”

Across the room, Leander said something to Hector, and Hector’s mouth shifted in the faintest suggestion of a smile. It was not the smile he gave to guests. It was smaller, reluctant, and real. Poppy wanted, suddenly and sharply, to be close enough to see it properly.

“What do you truly want, Poppy?” Julia asked.

Poppy watched her sister’s gaze drift toward Leander and soften without effort. They had a love that Poppy had tried not to envy. They had a family built out of daily choosing. And Julia had a husband who reached for her without fear.

“I want what you have,” Poppy confessed, and Julia’s hand tightened gently on her arm.

“I want a family with him. Children with him. A life that feels shared and not arranged across a corridor.”

The words, once spoken, could not be made smaller.

Poppy had cared for the children. She had argued with Hector about them, defended them, worried over them, sat beside their beds when needed. But this was different. This was not duty dressed as affection. She wanted a child whose face might carry Hector’s stern brow or his pale eyes, a child who would belong to them both. She wanted mornings that did not begin with restraint, and she wanted the right to reach for him⁠—

“Does he know?” Julia interrupted her thoughts.

Poppy gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Hector? He would sooner walk into a wall than discuss wanting.”

“Perhaps because he wants you too, and he would not admit it because of your silly rules.”

Poppy looked at her, and Julia remained calm. “I have seen how he listens for you.”

“That is not the same.”

“No. But it is not nothing.”

Poppy pressed her fingers together. “When we made our agreement, he was very clear. No foolish romantic thoughts. He meant that.” She swallowed. “I meant that.”

“But you did not have to agree.” Julia’s tone changed. “Do you still agree with that?”

Poppy did not answer her at once.

The music had ceased, and guests were beginning to gather themselves for departure, voices lowered by the lateness of the hour, and the ballroom seemed quieter now and emptied of expectation. Hector stood near the door, courteous to each person who approached. No one would look at him and think him uncertain. No one would know how carefully he measured every step.

Perhaps that was what hurt most. Not that she had sacrificed herself by marrying him. She no longer believed that, if she ever truly had. Living beside the man she wanted while he remained convinced that wanting him back would be a misfortune was taking a toll on her.