Page 20 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

His grip on the cane remained relaxed by will, and he reminded himself of the facts.

Aurora and the baby would come to Sterling House outside London. They would have rooms, attendants, clothing, food, instruction, gardens when weather allowed, physicians if needed, and every material provision his title could command.

He had no intention of forcing sentiment where duty was sufficient. Children required stability, not theatrical affection from a stranger with a severe voice and imperfect eyes.

Jonathan pointed out the room with a quiet, “Here, Your Grace.”

Hector paused at the door. “You need not come in.”

The man nodded once. “I shall wait outside.”

Hector took a minute to gather himself before he entered the room.

Light, forms, seated figures, a smaller one, and another shape that must have been the infant in a cot with a nurse attending to her. He could not distinguish the faces at once, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized that Miss Norish was indeed still there. Her posture altered at once into deference.

“Your Grace.” She stood and curtsied before him.

He inclined his head. “Miss Norish.”

He noticed the little hand grasping tightly onto Miss Norish’s arm. Her body blocked the child from his view, but he knew that this was Aurora. Hector felt his pulse quicken when he looked back at his duchess-to-be. Would she be enough for the children?

Would he?

She cleared her throat and motioned toward the woman standing beside the cot. “This is Sister Annabelle; she has nursed your nieces back to health ever since they arrived here.”

The nurse curtsied, and Hector nodded once at her. He walked slowly to the cot, and he made out the little figure that lay peacefully within it. She was tiny, and her hands balled into angry fists as she slept peacefully.

Princess. The name was absurd. Although he had to admit it was a fitting pet name for her.

“Thank you, Annabelle.” He acknowledged the nurse, who blushed under his gaze.

“There is nothing we will not do for your nieces, Your Grace,” she replied proudly.

Hector was surprised that he could see the color of her dark eyes but still could not make out Miss Norish’s. He turned his attention back to her and Aurora. Aurora tried her best to hide from him, and he felt guilty.

Perhaps I should attempt to smile?

He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath in.

“I would like to speak with Aurora alone.” His words emerged more sternly than he had intended.

The nurse promptly took her leave, exchanging a look with Miss Norish beforehand. Neither hesitated at his request.

“Of course, Your Grace.” Miss Norish turned toward his niece, who clung to her. “Aurora, this is the hero I have been telling you about. He is going to take care of you and Princess from today onwards.”

“A—all right.” The child mumbled into Miss Norish’s dress, and Hector felt his heart clench painfully.

Miss Norish patted her small head and smiled sweetly at her. “I shall be just in the next room, all right?”

Hector could see that Aurora refused to let go of Miss Norish; a part of him felt guilty, but he was there, offering them a home and provisions. They would lack nothing, and he would fulfill his duty as their guardian. When Aurora finally let go of Miss Norish, he heard the movement of her skirts and the careful closing of a door that was not fully shut, but enough to grant some privacy. He approved of that for the children’s safety.

Hector turned toward the quiet child and lost his breath. She looked familiar; he immediately noticed their similarities, which proved they were related.

“Aurora?” he called for her, but she remained silent.

The shape of Aurora was very small. That was his first clear impression. He had known her age, had read it written in ink, had understood the number, but numbers did not prepare a man for the fact of a child in a room.

Four years old. Old enough to understand loss without possessing the language to challenge it. Old enough to be brave in the tragic, unnecessary way children became brave when adults failed to protect them from fear.