Page 18 of Two Blessings For His Duchess
Euphemia let out a breath, her heart still hammering against her ribs, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She took a moment to look down at the massive dog, who was now wagging his tail so hard his entire hindquarters shook, before looking back at the young girl.
“Barnaby?”
Finding herself face-to-face with one of the forbidden daughters was the first bit of excitement Euphemia had experienced all morning. For the past three hours, she had been subjected to an exhausting, relentless tour of the estate. She was entirely convinced they had been walking for miles, and though she knew she was likely exaggerating the distance, her aching feet begged to differ. Mrs. Gable had already introduced her to no fewer than sixty members of the household staff. The sheer volume of names was overwhelming, and Euphemia was privately terrified she would mix them up by supper.
“Yes, his name is Barnaby,” she responded.
Worse than the fatigue, however, was the atmosphere. Throughout the entire tour, Mrs. Gable had been stiff and icy. Euphemia could feel the judgmental weight behind the housekeeper’s glances. It was entirely obvious the woman had caught wind of the scandalous rumors from London, and no doubt the roaring argument Euphemia had shared with the Duke in the hall yesterday had traveled straight to the servants’ hall.
But Euphemia was used to being scorned by now. Thetonhad already given her its worst, she was not about to let a haughty housekeeper break her stride. She kept her chin up, and remained flawlessly polite to everyone she met, refusing to give them a single reason to call her a tyrant.
Now, here was Nathaniel’s daughter – she wasn’t sure which one – breaking the rules just by speaking to her.
Euphemia took a deliberate step forward, ignoring the stiff, disapproving clearing of Mrs. Gable’s throat behind her. She knelt down slightly, bringing herself closer to the girl’s eye level, and extended a hand toward the panting retriever.
“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Euphemia said gently. “Barnaby is a lovely name.”
“Thank you,” she beamed.
“Does the pretty lady holding Barnaby have a name too?” Euphemia beamed.
“I am Lady Cordelia Darington,” she said, straightening her spine and lifting her chin with immense pride. “I am the oldest twin, you see. Even if it is only by a few minutes, that still makes me the eldest sister, which means I am technically in charge when Georgianna is being stubborn.”
“I take it Georgianna is your sister, the second twin?”
“Yes.”
Euphemia’s smile widened. “Noted.”
Cordelia leaned in a fraction, her green eyes wide with curiosity as she looked over Euphemia. “You must be our papa’s new wife. The Duchess.”
Euphemia’s smile waned. She swallowed the brief ache and brushed it off, refusing to let the girl see her hesitation.
“I am,” Euphemia replied softly. “My name is Euphemia.”
A sudden thought flashed through Euphemia’s mind. She knew she shouldn’t be standing there having a pleasant chat. She had explicitly given her word to Nathaniel just the day before that she would adhere to his terms and stay away from his daughters. She had promised to stay on her side of the line.
But it had been a dreadfully long, miserable morning, and this vibrant little girl was the first real sign of life she had encountered in this entire gray fortress. Besides, she reasoned to herself, they had simply bumped into each other. It wasn’t as if she had actively gone hunting for the children in the nursery. Surely a polite conversation after an accidental meeting was entirely excusable.
“It is very nice to meet you, Your Grace,” Cordelia said. “Papa told us we ought to give you your space because you were verybusy with your new duties. We are not supposed to speak to you. But I reckon Barnaby insisted on saying hello.”
“Well, I am very glad Barnaby is so terribly disobedient,” Euphemia laughed, reaching out to scratch the retriever behind his ears. “Do you love dogs very much, Cordelia?”
“Oh, passionately!” Cordelia declared, throwing her arms around Barnaby’s neck again, completely indifferent. “I want to have a dozen of them. Papa says one large hound is quite enough for the conservatory, but I am currently working on a very logical argument to convince him otherwise.”
Euphemia let out a bright, genuine laugh at that, the sound echoing delightfully across the conservatory. “A logical argument? It sounds as though you have inherited your father’s talent for negotiations, Cordelia.”
Gently guiding the young girl toward a low, cushioned stone bench nestled among a row of vibrant orange trees, Euphemia sat down, smoothing the silk of her skirts. Cordelia scrambled up right beside her without an ounce of hesitation, and sat by her side. She patted her lap so Barnaby could rest his massive, furry chin across her knees.
“What of your twin sister... Georgianna? Does she share your passionate love for dogs as well?”
“Oh, heavens, no,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes in a grand, theatrical gesture. “Georgianna cannot bear the mud, and she says Barnaby smells like wet wool. My sister is much morereserved than I am. She is very quiet, she prefers her books, and she rarely wishes to come outside at all. I am entirely the one who gets into trouble in our nursery.”
Euphemia giggled as fond nostalgia washed over her. “You know, that sounds remarkably familiar. I have two sisters of my own, and we are just as different. My sister Leonora is very quiet and reserved, much like your Georgianna. But my other sister, Seraphina, is entirely different. She is incredibly outspoken, she loves dogs, and she is very smart and intelligent, just like you.”
Cordelia’s cheeks flushed a sweet, rosy pink at the compliment. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she mumbled, looking down at Barnaby’s ears before looking back up. “To be honest, Papa told us that we ought to avoid you. I do not think you’re busy. I think he just doesn’t want us to talk to you. But I truly wanted to get to know you. Technically, you see, you are our new mama.”
The word caught in Euphemia’s throat, spreading a sudden, profound warmth through her entire chest. It was a beautiful, terrifying thing to hear. Despite the cold warnings of the Duke and the rigid rules of the house, the little girl was simply looking for someone to call mother.
