Page 82 of A Duchess for his Family

A faint, sorrowful curve touched her mouth. “You make marriage sound rather like warfare.”

“I have little experience with anything less complicated.” That nearly drew a smile from her. “I am sorry, Sophia,” he told her softly. “More deeply than I know how to express.”

She studied him for a long moment. “I accept your apology.” Relief moved through him, though it did not last. “But I was not wrong,” she suddenly added.

His shoulders stiffened. “About the pond?”

“About the girls.”

Benedict turned toward the window. Outside, the lawns lay orderly beneath the fading light. Nothing moved beyond the slow shadows of branches.

“I cannot pretend danger does not exist merely because they wish for adventure.”

“I am not asking you to pretend.”

“You are asking me to permit risks.”

“I am asking you to understand that preventing every possible hurt creates another kind of hurt.”

He looked back at her. Sophia closed the book and set it aside.

“They miss who they were before their parents died,” she clarified. “They miss climbing trees with their father beneath them and returning home muddy enough to make their mother sigh. Those things were part of being loved.”

Benedict’s throat tightened. He had thought only of all that might take the girls from him. He had not considered that his fear might also take something from them. Still, surrender did not come naturally.

“A memory of happiness does not make a dangerous act safe.”

“No,” Sophia agreed patiently. “But perhaps we need not choose between complete freedom and complete confinement.”

He frowned. “What do you suggest then?”

Her gaze became cautious, though a spark of hope warmed it. “Come with us.”

Benedict stared at her. “On these… expeditions?”

“Outings,” she corrected with amusement.

“Marjorie calls them expeditions.”

“Marjorie also considers the kitchen passage an unexplored continent.”

“That does not reassure me.”

Sophia’s lips trembled. “If you accompany us, you may watch the girls yourself. You may inspect every tree, pond, hill, gate, stone, and suspicious-looking shrub before they even approach it.”

“That could require considerable time.”

“They are your wards. Surely they merit the sacrifice.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You are mocking me.”

“Only a little.”

The softness between them returned so cautiously that Benedict scarcely dared move. He considered her proposal. He imagined Marjorie racing through the meadow while Amelia followed more carefully. He imagined mud, noise, disobedience, and at least twelve preventable dangers before luncheon. He also remembered the girls’ laughter before he had sent them away from the pond.

“I will try,” he said at last.

Sophia blinked. “You will?”