Page 7 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

Her uncle stepped forward to object, but the duke raised his hand slightly, and Lord Bendon stopped.

It was a small gesture, but it bore authority. Men like him did not need to raise their voices to make the world listen. How unfair it was; she wished she had the same power.

He leaned forward slightly on his cane, and Poppy felt her skin warm under his gaze. “Unfortunately, it took me three months because I only learned of my sister’s death quite recently.”

“Oh, dear,” Aunt Violet gasped.

Poor man, how awful to lose a sister so suddenly.

Poppy’s heart ached for Aurora, Princess, and the cold duke before her. She understood, all too well, the feeling of losing your own mother. When Poppy came of age, her father accused her of killing her mother, and ever since then she blamed herself for her mother’s death. She remembered his words clearly.

“It is all your fault; I lost my wife because of you! I lost everything!”

The guilt never left Poppy, even when Iris tried to explain the dangers and risks of childbirth. Poppy struggled to accept it. And although her aunt tried her best to fill in the void, it still was not enough.

Perhaps Aurora feels the same way.

Poppy cleared her throat and fought back the tears that threatened to fall. “I apologize, Your Grace. I only knew that the girls came into the nuns’ care after a great tragedy, but I do not know the details⁠—”

“Unfortunately, those are personal circumstances that I will not discuss with a stranger.” His coldness returned, and her compassion disappeared.

But Poppy understood his predicament and did not press him further.

“My sister and I were not in regular contact; that is all you need to know,” he said evenly. His eyes seemed to travel along the details of her face, and Poppy blushed from being studied. “When I heard of her death, my first concern was her children.”

Poppy folded her hands. “But why come here? Why seek me out personally?”

“To meet you. I wanted to understand your intentions.”

Her brows rose. “My intentions?”

“Yes.”

A humorless laugh escaped her. “How fortunate. A woman showing kindness to orphaned children requires an investigation.”

Her uncle looked ready to faint, and Aunt Violet was pale, but the duke remained silent. Poppy did not regret her words, and she did not appreciate being accused by a stranger who knew nothing about her and the relationship she shared with Aurora and Princess.

She opened her mouth to continue, but the duke suddenly got up. He tapped the cane on the ground once and walked toward her slowly. The duke’s expression remained unreadable.

“Enough.”

His quiet command silenced her.

“I have found what I came here to discover.”

Poppy watched him, her eyes widened as a ray of sunlight fell upon his face.

She studied him then and noticed that his pale, extraordinary eyes were open and responsive, yet empty. They held the afternoon light coldly and did not return its warmth. Her confusion thinned, leaving a cold but doubtful realization.

Poppy looked down at his cane and at the footman behind him.

“Are you…” she began quietly. “Blind?”

“Penelope!” the earl hissed her name in warning.

Ever since Miss Norish entered the drawing room, Hector found himself wanting her to continue speaking. It was an unusual reaction. Most people fell silent around him eventually, especially when they noticed something different about him. She did not.

He knew that she had discovered there was something wrong with his eyesight. Hector could not see her features clearly in the weak light from the windows and the distance, but he had long known faces were often unreliable anyhow. From her voice, he’d learned of a quiet strength and a defiance she struggled to keep silent. And he was enjoying the slow reveal of her shape. She was of medium height and slender. Her gown formed a subdued shape, shifting between blue and gray, and her voice was clear although it wavered slightly with fear.