Page 24 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

She raised a brow. “Are you attempting to jest?”

He shrugged, the faintest lift of one shoulder, offering no reply.

Poppy shook her head, a reluctant smile touching her lips. “I will see you there… hopefully.”

For a moment, neither moved. The carriage waited, the horses stamped, and the nuns murmured blessings for them. Hector stood tall with his sight fixed upon her. She was not certain how blind he was, yet she felt truly seen whenever he looked at her.

He inclined his head. “Miss Norish.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“I shall see you in five days’ time, at the altar.”

The duke left her at the entrance of the orphanage with a frantic heartbeat and spiraling thoughts of what was to come for her and the two children she had grown to love.

Chapter Six

“Icannot believe I said yes.”

The words escaped before Poppy could make them pretty. They sounded flat in the dressing room, almost cross, and quite unlike the sort of thing a woman ought to say while wearing her wedding gown on her wedding day.

Julia, seated nearby, looked up with an expression that was far too calm. “I can.”

Poppy turned from the mirror. “That is not comforting.”

“It was not meant to be. It was meant to be accurate and brutally honest.”

Only a week had passed since Hector’s proposal, and she was already wearing her mother’s wedding gown, which she had inherited. To Julia’s delight, it fit her perfectly without any alterations.

“Hush, Thomas,” Julia quietly scolded her two-year-old.

“Leave him be, Julia,” Poppy reprimanded her.

On the floor, the toddler was stomping about with the absolute purpose of a very young and very destructive boy. Thomas had found some small collection of harmless items and was arranging them into a disorder no adult mind could interpret. Every few moments he stamped one foot, as though declaring ownership of the room.

“Thomas,” Julia said without looking away from Poppy, “if you are dismantling anything essential, do try to do it quietly.”

Thomas giggled and stomped harder.

Poppy glanced at him and felt the ache of it. Children never failed to make a room brighter.

Julia turned toward her suddenly, pulling her away from her thoughts. “Poppy.”

Poppy looked back in the mirror. “Yes?”

“Do you regret it?”

There it was. The question had been present all day, waiting in the corners, hiding behind jokes and fittings and practicalities. Poppy had known Julia would ask because her sister would never allow love to masquerade as politeness if danger might be involved.

Poppy smoothed her hands over the gown, though there was no wrinkle there. “No, I do not.”

“You did not answer fast enough.” Her sister gave her a knowing look.

“Yes, because it is true.” She thought of Aurora, Princess, and the duke who would soon be her husband.

“Do not try to fool me, Poppy.”

Her mouth curved despite herself. “I would never dare, Julia.”