Page 27 of A Duchess for his Family

“To look at it?”

“From a distance.”

“To know it exists?”

He looked at her. “Miss Norton.”

“Your Grace.”

“They will be safe.”

“Perhaps. But will they be happy?”

The question landed with more force than he’d expected. Around them the park continued its idle splendor. A phaeton passed, its wheels hissing softly over the path. A lady’s laugh rose in the distance, bright as glass. Benedict felt Sophia’s fingers tighten again, but this time not from nervousness.

“They are children,” she spoke softly. “They are not porcelain figures to be kept upon a shelf because someone fears the cabinet might shake.”

“I have never suggested they are porcelain.”

“No. You have suggested they are prisoners.”

“That is unjust.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” His voice remained calm. He knew it did because calm was the only defense he trusted. “Rules exist for a reason.”

“Perhaps some of those reasons are not very good.”

“Falling from trees is a good reason.”

“So is learning courage.”

“Stomach aches are a good reason.”

“So is delight.”

“Disease from stray animals is a good reason.”

“So is tenderness.”

“Drowning is an excellent reason.”

Her face changed then, and Benedict knew at once he had said too much, not because the argument was weak, but because the fear beneath it stepped into view.

Sophia studied him for a moment. The irritation in her expression did not vanish, but it softened at the edges. That was worse. He could withstand disagreement. He was far less prepared for understanding.

“They have already lost so much,” she said quietly.

His jaw tightened. “Precisely.”

“No,” she replied. “That is precisely why the world should not be made smaller for them.”

He looked ahead, fixed upon the avenue before them, the moving horses, the gleam of carriage wheels, the safe, visible order of the park. “A smaller world is easier to protect.”

“But harder to live in.”

Benedict had no immediate answer. He disliked that very much.