Page 65 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

“No.” Aurora looked surprised. “It meant they were there.”

Poppy let that settle and immediately began planning a visit to the orphanage in her mind.

“And the bed?” she asked softly. “Does the bed trouble you too?”

Aurora’s gaze moved toward the crack of light and beyond it, to the broad bed occupying the room.

“It is too big.”

“And that makes it feel…”

“Lonely,” Aurora said.

Poppy looked at the child beside her, at the rigid little shoulders and the courage it had taken to name loneliness in a place where everyone was trying so hard to be noticed.

“Were you lonely at the orphanage?” Poppy asked softly, afraid of the answer.

Aurora shook her head at once. “No, never. I miss that everyone slept in the same room. The bed was not like that one. It was squashed. We had to put our feet carefully, or someone kicked. Princess was nearby, too. Sometimes my arm went numb.”

Poppy suddenly realized what the issue was. The house was too big for Aurora.

“Aurora, it is time to go to bed.” The child looked upset, but Poppy would not accept any excuses.

She motioned to Annabelle and Mrs. Patterson, who approached them immediately. Annabelle coaxed the child out of her hiding spot while Poppy spoke in a low tone to Mrs. Patterson.

“Mrs. Patterson, we will do something that the duke must not find out about.”

To her surprise, the housekeeper laughed.

“What is it, Mrs. Patterson?”

The housekeeper shook her head as her laughter died down. “I am just enjoying the shenanigans that have been taking place in this house.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Sixteen!” Hector heard the duchess’s voice echo through the hallway.

He returned home hoping for some peace and quiet after the harrowing meetings with his tenants about leaking roofs, boundary disputes, and unpaid rent. Jonathan entered half a pace behind him, silent and curious.

A shriek of laughter went up somewhere beyond the hall. It shot along the corridor, struck the walls, and seemed to multiply. His wife’s voice followed, and Hector heard a burst of running feet as the duchess counted.

“Seventeen… eighteen… nineteen…”

He and Jonathan stopped in their tracks. He did not need clear sight to understand the disorder around him.

“Twenty!”

Aurora shrieked, and Hector’s jaw tightened. His house had never sounded like this before. Since the children had arrived, there had been crying in the night, the uncertain patter of small feet, the occasional dropped object followed by shocked silence. But this was different. This was an invasion, and he knew, with immediate and unreasonable certainty, who was responsible.

My wife.

Jonathan took his hat and gloves. “Shall I inquire where Her Grace is?”

“No.” The refusal came too quickly. “I will look for her myself.”

Jonathan stopped. “Very good, Your Grace.”

Hector began down the corridor and did not hurry. The cane tapped the floor ahead of him. He had long since grown familiar with every shadow and light within the house and its corridors.