Page 55 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

Mrs. Patterson stood a respectful few paces away, keys at her waist, posture straight without stiffness, and a kind expression.

“I beg your pardon,” Mrs. Patterson said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“You did not.” Poppy touched lightly beneath one eye and wiped the tear away. “I was only taking a moment.”

“So, I see,” she said kindly. “How is Aurora after yesterday’s incident?” Poppy appreciated the staff’s concern.

“She is much better now, actually; she is back to her normal, adventurous self already.”

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Patterson shook her head.

Her gentle tone nearly undid Poppy.

Mrs. Patterson stepped closer. “They are both so fond of you.”

Poppy looked back toward the nursery door. “Princess is fond of anyone who lifts her when she asks.”

“No, Your Grace. She is fond of you.”

Poppy had no answer. In the background, she heard the hammering of wood and stone. The study was still under renovation, according to the staff. Poppy hoped that they were not lying to her, but how could she expect that from the duke’s loyal staff?

The housekeeper let the silence rest, then said, “I hope you will not think me impertinent if I say that many of us are glad you came here.”

Poppy turned to her fully. “Many of you?”

“Yes, the staff and I.”

“That is generous of you to say. Thank you, Mrs. Patterson.” Poppy felt touched by the sentiment and a little guilty.

“It is the truth.” Mrs. Patterson’s hands folded at her waist. “This house has had need of gentleness.”

The words were mild, but their implication was not. Poppy studied the woman’s face, searching for complaint, but found only care.

“I am still learning how to be of use here.”

“You have already been of use, my lady.” Mrs. Patterson seemed to notice more than Poppy wished. “Forgive me,” she continued. “I do not mean that your worth depends on what you do.”

Poppy’s gaze lifted sharply.

A small smile touched the housekeeper’s mouth and vanished. “I have been in service a long while, Your Grace. One comes to recognize certain habits.”

Poppy looked away first. Her thoughts drifted toward His Grace, who directed Aurora out of the maze. She saw the love in his expression, and she would remember it always. She would also remember the way he stared at her, as if he had just seen her for the first time. It made her skin flush just thinking about it again.

Below them, somewhere in the unseen workings of the house, a door closed, and footsteps passed at the far end of the corridor.

Mrs. Patterson broke the silence again. “His Grace is not as terrible as he appears.”

Poppy went still. The housekeeper did not hurry to fill the silence, and her restraint gave the words weight.

“I would not presume to tell you what to think of your husband,” she continued. “You will know him in your own way, in time. But I have known him since he was young, and I can say that he has always been fair to those beneath his authority. More than fair, when he could manage it without making a display.”

Poppy thought of the duke’s cold profile, the severity of his mouth, the way his blindness seemed not to lessen his command of a room but sharpen it. “He does not seem a man eager to be thanked.”

“He is not.” Mrs. Patterson’s tone warmed faintly. “Which is why most do not know when he has helped them.”

Poppy said nothing, and the housekeeper took that as permission.

“There was a groom once whose mother fell ill. His Grace arranged for the man’s wages to continue while he went home, though the steward put it in the accounts another way. A kitchen maid’s brother needed a position; His Grace found one through an acquaintance and never spoke of it again. When disputes arise, he hears them. Truly hears them.” She stopped to think. “He can be severe. I will not deny that. But he does not enjoy cruelty.”