Page 34 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

Her Grace’s breath caught. “You cannot place a deadline on a child’s fear.”

“I can place expectations on this household.”

“But she is not an account to be balanced.”

Hector was losing his patience. “She is a child under my protection, and her future matters to me.”

“Then protect her,” she countered. “Do not make her believe love depends on…speaking smoothly!”

The word love had no place in his life and never would.

“No one has spoken of love in this agreement. Love is just a whimsical term for duty.” He glared in her direction, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

Hector could not help but admire her stubbornness, even while he was fuming.

“That may be part of the problem,” she muttered under her breath. “Are you implying that loving the children is just a part of your duty?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

The servants had vanished or made themselves indistinguishable from the walls, and he was grateful for that because he would not have made this into kitchen talk before morning. Still, the house listened, and stone kept memory better than people.

He lowered his voice. “Aurora is of my family. If the defect can be corrected, it will be corrected.”

“Defect?” Her Grace looked at him, appalled.

“It will hinder her; therefore, it is a defect.” He pointed the cane at her.

“She is only four years old. You have not even given her any time.” She began to pace in frustration.

“And she will not always be four, Duchess.” He saw her shoulders tense at the accusation.

“No, she will not. And when she is older, she will remember whether you gave her safety or another reason to be afraid.”

Hector frowned. “You speak as though I intend cruelty.”

“You intend results without considering the child who must produce them, and you expect this to be an act of kindness?”

He should have ended it there. Instead, he heard himself say, “You were brought here because the girls trust you. Use that trust.”

“That would be exploitation.”

His grip on the cane hardened. “Choose your words with care.”

“I am.” Her voice trembled now, but she did not yield. “Aurora’s stutter is not disobedience. It is not laziness. She cannot be ordered out of it because it inconveniences you. How can you demand that she change something she cannot control, especially when you yourself are⁠—”

She stopped, but it was too late.

His voice went quiet. “I am what?”

The duchess said nothing.

“Say it. Say that I am blind,” he spat.

The word echoed around him.

“I did not mean⁠—”

“Yes, you did. You meant precisely that, then lacked the courage to finish.”