Page 8 of Deviant Duchess
Deborah smiled again, and this time Adeline mimicked her.
“Well, Adeline, I cannot sleep. I am assuming you cannot either?” She asked.
Adeline shook her head.
“No, I do not sleep well here. I miss my old room,” Adeline replied, a tone of longing filling her small voice.
“I am sure you do,” Deborah comforted, then offered Adeline her hand. “I was trying to find the kitchens. Sometimes a cup of chamomile tea helps me rest. If you can show me where the kitchens are, I shall make one for you as well.”
Adeline’s smile returned, and she took Deborah’s hand.
“Very well then.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Are you going to be my aunt?” Adeline asked.
Deborah coughed on her tea and set her cup down with a loudclank.
“Why would you ask that?” Deborah asked.
Adeline shrugged.
“You are not here to be my nanny or governess. You would have told me that right away as all the others had,” Adeline explained, then chortled, “You also would have tried to order me right back to bed. Not that I would have listened.”
Deborah raised an amused brow at the little girl’s bluntness.
“How old are you, Adeline?” Deborah asked.
“Ten,” she answered dismissively, picking apart the scone she’d taken from the pantry as the tea was brewing. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” Deborah answered.
“Mm. My mother was thirty-two when she died. You are much younger than her.”
Deborah paused, not sure how to respond.
“What are you doing here if you are not going to be my aunt or my governess?” Adeline asked next.
Deborah drew in a breath, again, not sure how to respond.
“At present I am just taking the night,” she answered at last.
“Taking the night to what?” Adeline countered.
Deborah let out a weak laugh.
“I suppose even I am not sure. I am supposed to be sleeping, but that has not worked out for either of us. And I am also supposed to be making a decision. Which I have not done yet either.”
“What is it you have to decide?” Adeline asked.
Deborah was silent for a long moment, her concentration broken. She had not seen them in the hall, but now that they were seated at the small work table in the kitchens, Deborah noticed that there were pale purple and blue bruises on her arms, as if someone had grabbed her.
Her stomach twisted in discomfort. Cedric was a vulgar mushroom, she knew, but was he so awful as to hurt the girl?
“Deborah,” Adeline said, and flicked a crumb of scone at her.
Deborah tsked her tongue in a scolding manner as she brushed the crumb from her nightgown.
