Page 36 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

Aurora and Princess, she reminded herself, are precisely why I am here.

Still, her mind returned to the day before and that reckless touch. Her fingertips on his forehead felt too instinctive and too intimate.

What was I thinking?

She knew better. She had been raised to know better. A lady did not reach for a gentleman as if his nearness gave her rights. But then again, he was her husband…

“Poppy?” Annabelle was staring at her curiously.

“I apologize; this is all so new to me, and my mind is spiraling trying to accept these changes.”

Annabelle nodded. “I understand.” Annabelle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder just as the lady’s maid appeared again.

Poppy cleared her throat and addressed her. “I will take an afternoon bath instead. I find myself eager to see my girls.”

“All right, Your Grace.” The lady’s maid seemed relieved as she made her way to prepare Poppy’s dress.

She hoped that time with the girls would distract her from thinking about the duke.

It was not that she merely touched him; it was the contradiction of him. She had thought foolishly he was made of ice, and then she had touched him and found heat that burnt her fingertips and stayed with her. The sensation kept her up the whole night. Tossing, turning, and trying to shake the feeling of him off.

It was most inconvenient.

Poppy rose before the thought could become anything softer. She dressed quickly; the lady’s maid fastened what needed fastening as Annabelle waited for her. Her dark blonde hair was made presentable, if not artful, and she glanced once at her reflection and saw a duchess who, to her own annoyance, seemed as if she had not slept enough.

“It is all the icy duke’s fault,” she muttered.

“Pardon, Your Grace?” the lady’s maid cocked her head.

“Oh, I said this dress is absolutely flawless. Thank you. You may just direct me to the breakfast room. I shall go with Miss Annabelle.”

The lady’s maid smiled politely. “It is down the staircase to your right, Your Grace. I believe that Mrs. Patterson will give both of you a tour today.”

“Yes, thank you.” Poppy tried to hide her nerves behind a tight smile.

Poppy had only met Mrs. Patterson the night before, and it was for a brief moment, but the woman seemed kind in a stern and motherly way. She wondered if she might ask the housekeeper questions about His Grace or if she would take offense.

Only time will tell.

Poppy inhaled deeply and gave one last look in the mirror before they went to find the girls.

She asked first in the nursery corridor and found Mrs. Patterson before she found either child. The housekeeper came toward her with brisk purpose, her expression gentle and attentive.

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Patterson. Have you seen the girls?”

“The baby is still asleep,” Mrs. Patterson said.

“Her name is Princess,” Poppy corrected her automatically.

Mrs. Patterson’s mouth curved. “Princess is still asleep.”

Poppy felt a small easing in her chest. “And Aurora?”

“Awake before the nanny, as she always is.” Mrs. Patterson glanced down the corridor. “Though I have not seen her in the last quarter hour.”

Poppy’s ease vanished.