Page 73 of A Mother for the Blind Duke’s Orphans

Hector stared at her for a second before he nodded. “Proceed.”

“Did you have anything to do with the closet?”

He frowned as he forked his deviled egg. “As I said, it was Mrs. Patterson’s idea. I simply allowed her and the workmen to run with it.”

He reached for his cup, and Poppy waited as he drank.

She should have let it pass, but the question pressed at her with all the force of a thing that mattered because it had not been mentioned. “So you did not arrange it at all?”

His face remained unreadable. “Why does it matter? Is it inconvenient?”

“No. It is… very convenient.”

“Then I see no issue.”

That was not an answer. It was, in fact, so carefully not an answer that she felt certain it was one. Poppy lowered her gaze before he could sense whatever had come into her expression. He would likely have endured a wound more easily confessing that he cared so greatly for his nieces. So much so that he built a hiding place for Aurora in his study. Poppy knew that some quiet instruction had passed from him to the household, and because he said nothing of it, the act seemed even more intimate.

“You are right. There is no issue.” She smiled knowingly at him as she ate her cold, toasted bread.

The breakfast continued with a civility that should have made her feel safe, but it did not. Safety, she was discovering, could be as unsettling as danger when one had not expected to find it in a particular man. After his business trip, Hector seemed to have a better temper than usual. He seemed less barricaded, and his replies came without sharp edges. Poppy was grateful that he also did not appear eager to flee anymore.

So, she took a chance to ask him another burning question.

“Is this breakfast a singular event,” she asked slowly, “or the beginning of a routine?”

His head turned slightly toward her, and a rogue curl fell across his strong jawline. “Would you object to a routine?”

A few weeks ago, she would have. The answer came so quickly inside her that she nearly smiled at her own discomfort. A few weeks ago, the idea of facing him at every meal would have tightened her stomach. She would have counted the minutes, measured every word, and feared every silence.

Now the thought sent a bright, foolish warmth through her. She scolded herself at once.

It is only breakfast. Bread, butter, tea, and conversation. The ordinary machinery of a household. Nothing in it warranted excitement.

“No, I would not object,” she finally said.

Hector smiled at her, and she was taken aback by how kind his face seemed.

He placed his cutlery down and gave her his full attention. Poppy squirmed in her chair, unsure how to react.

“Then we shall share every meal from now on,” he said firmly.

Poppy’s hand tightened around her napkin beneath the table.

Every meal.

The words opened something in her she had no wish to examine in daylight. She felt both nervous and excited to spend that time with him.

“That seems…sensible,” she struggled to contain her excitement. “For the household, I suppose,” she added quickly.

“I suppose so, too.”

There was no mistaking the moment they shared when they looked into each other’s eyes.

“I think that Aurora should join us as well.” She was unsure whether she was pushing her boundaries with him, but his gaze said otherwise.

Hector did not answer at once, but that was one of the things Poppy had learned about him; all his silences were not alike. Some were refusals, and some were retreats, but this one was consideration.

“Do you truly believe that is wise?” he asked.