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“Thank you, Your Grace, but I have my own,” she responded, pulling her own from the sleeve of her charcoal dress. With a smile and a nod of understanding, the Duke turned to offer the handkerchief to his daughter. When she shook her head, trying to decline it, he picked her hands up anyway and began to wipe toad juice from her palms.
“You had better dip them in the pond and we will wash them properly when we return,” Matilda suggested, and the Duke nodded in agreement.
“Do as Miss Percival says,” he said. After having done so, Matilda handed her fairly unsoiled handkerchief to Lady Amy so that she could dry her hands off.
“Shall we get on with this walk? Otherwise, we might never make it home before dusk,” Matilda commented, giving her handkerchief a flap before shoving it back into her sleeve.
“I shall follow your lead, Miss Percival,” the Duke announced but before either of them could make a move, Lady Amy was off once more, hurrying across the forecourt toward the country lane that served as the main driveway to the house.
“Is not she a ball of energy today?” The Duke stated happily even as they easily fell into step once more, Matilda walking with her hands clasped before her while the Duke had his own clasped behind his back.
“I think that may be down to you, Your Grace,” Matilda admitted as they walked side by side. She was careful not to allow herself to get too close, always keeping a steady distance between them. Although they had both agreed previously to keep things professional, the governess remained wary.
“How so, Miss Percival?” The Duke asked and she felt him looking at her from the corner of his eye.
“Lady Amy was quite downcast this morning and I was not sure she would enjoy our walk,” Matilda explained with a shrug of her shoulders. “But the moment you joined us in the entryway and asked to join us she perked right up.”
As soon as she had said the words, Matilda started to regret them. A glance at the Duke told her that he was feeling embarrassed or maybe even ashamed. Even beneath the thin layer of facial hair and his long dark locks that fell down around his face when he glanced down at the ground, she could see that his cheeks were flushing red.
“I am ashamed of how little time I have spent with her lately,” the Duke admitted. “I have always tried to do my best for her and that sometimes means business takes precedence.”
“I understand, Your Grace.” Matilda smiled at him and fighting the urge to reach out and comfort him physically, she added, “And I am sure that deep down, Lady Amy understands it too though she is still very young.”
“She will not remain so forever.” The Duke sighed deeply, and Matilda’s heart clenched in sympathy for the Duke. She could not have agreed with him more though she was careful not to do so out loud for fear she might upset him further.
“Then, perhaps we ought to do something about it now?” Matilda suggested, a bright idea coming into her mind. Lady Amy was already several meters ahead and coming up to a bend in the lane. Clearing her throat, Matilda called, “Lady Amy, we shall race you to the stile!”
Offering the Duke a glinting expression of challenge, she set off at a run with her skirts held up so not to trip on them. She could not help but cry gleefully with laughter when she heard the Duke yell after her, “That’s cheating! You gave no warning!”
His words were almost cut off by the excited cry of his daughter as she sped off around the corner, headed for the stile that they would need to climb over to get into the field where Matilda had chosen for them to walk. It was such a beautiful place filled with wildflowers and long grass and there were so many things to discover there that she and Lady Amy often went walking in this special place.
The thought of having the Duke join them on this occasion made her heart hammer excitedly and she was almost breathless as she rounded the corner in the lane.
All too late, she noticed that the ground had turned muddy. Although Lady Amy appeared to have reached the stile without too much trouble, Matilda’s larger size and her terribly clumsy footing left her slipping and sliding, fighting a losing battle against gravity.
“Matilda!” she heard the Duke call even as she went down, her rear sinking with an audible squelch into the mud. There was nothing she could do but sit and laugh even as her hands splashed into the muddy puddle on either side of her.
“Oh, Miss Percival, are you alright?” the Duke asked, instantly at her side. Still laughing, unable to stop her cheeks from flushing with embarrassment, she turned her gaze up to his to find that he was watching her intently and looked quite concerned. “Are you hurt?”
With a shake of her head, still chuckling slightly, she said, “Not physically, though I think my pride may have taken a little damage.”
“Here, let me help you,” the Duke proposed, offering her a hand. She quickly tried to wave him away, determined that she would not muddy him also. “Come, Miss Percival. I insist.”
Before she could offer any more protest, he bent down and gripped hold of her by the hand and the elbow in order to help her up. What happened next was a giant kerfuffle. Almost on her feet, Matilda felt panic rising even as she felt her feet beginning to slip all over again.
Though the Duke tried his hardest to hold onto her, keeping her on her feet for a few moments longer than she might have been able to on her own, they were both quickly slipping and sliding, spinning around and around each other until finally, they both lost their footing.
“Oh! Look at the two of you! What would your governess say?” Lady Amy cried with laughter, sitting upon the plank of the stile as though she was happy to just sit and watch their entertainment all day.
Matilda and the Duke sat in the muddy puddle for several moments trying to comprehend what had happened and when they finally turned to look at each other, Matilda saw that she was no longer the only one covered in mud. The muddy water had splashed up all around them, ruining the Duke’s outfit and smearing his face. Several strands of his hair were clumped together like rat tails.
“Miss Percival, I must say,” the Duke began, and Matilda found herself holding her breath, half expecting the Duke to scold her for having dragged him into such a mess. “Even covered in mud, you are a most radiant sight.”
Matilda’s heart raced anew at his words, and she quickly blinked away her astonishment.
“You make quite the handsome mud monster yourself, Your Grace!” Matilda laughed, unable to stop herself from throwing a handful of mud in the Duke’s direction. The Duke looked as though he might be about to reciprocate but Matilda quickly remembered Lady Amy watching them, still chuckling away to herself as though she was having a whale of a time.
Carefully, she started to move, putting herself on her hands and knees to crawl to the edge of the mud wallow before attempting to stand up.
