Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

I t was late when Simon finally returned to the estate. The grand house was mostly dark, save for a few flickering lamps that lined the halls, casting long shadows as he made his way through the quiet corridors.

The events of the day weighed heavily on him, and though his mind was still occupied with thoughts of his brother, he found himself heading toward Harriet’s room almost instinctively.

He had not seen her all day. Even though it was late into the night, he wondered what she might be doing.

When he reached the door, he paused, considering whether to enter.

She would likely be asleep by now, he wrestled with himself. But something urged him to check on her, to ensure that she and the baby were well.

It was becoming something of a habit for him to do that each night. Knowing that Harriet had recently moved Catherine’s cot to her own room, he made his way there, slinking around the door for a moment before gently pushing it open, being careful not to make a sound.

The room was dimly lit by a single candle on the nightstand, its soft glow revealing Harriet lying on the bed, sound asleep. Next to her, in a small cradle, lay the baby, who was also fast asleep.

The sight arose an unexpected feeling inside of Simon — warming his heart in a way that he could not explain but it was there, undeniable and persistent.

He moved closer to the bed, his gaze shifting between Harriet and the baby.

They both looked so peaceful, and for a moment, Simon simply stood there, watching them, feeling oddly content in their presence.

The sound of Harriet’s rhythmic breathing indicated that she was sound asleep. Yet somehow, she still appeared to be protecting Catherine. It was embedded in her aura.

The thought made the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.

Harriet looks like she born to be a mother. Some women just are.

But then, practical concerns took over. He thought it would be best to move the baby to the nursery, where she would be more comfortable, and where Harriet could get a proper rest. Simon carefully reached down and lifted the baby, cradling her awkwardly in his arms. Cathy stirred slightly but remained asleep as he carried her out of the room and down the hallway.

As Simon entered the baby’s room, Cathy began to squirm in his arms. Her little face scrunched up, and before Simon could react, she let out a loud, wailing cry that echoed throughout the quiet house.

Panic gripped him. Simon had never dealt with a crying baby before — he had no idea what to do. His first instinct was to tell her to stop, as though reasoning with a tiny, confused human would work.

“Stop that,” Simon whispered urgently, his voice a little harsher than he intended. “Hush now, there’s no need for all this noise.”

Cathy’s cries only grew louder, her tiny fists waving in the air as if protesting his lack of understanding. Simon frowned, feeling utterly helpless.

He was the Duke of Atherton, accustomed to command and control, yet here he was, utterly at a loss because of a crying infant.

He tried to soothe her with more words, still not quite realizing how futile it was.

“I am your guardian, and I order you to be silent,” he said, his tone almost comically authoritative for addressing a baby. “This is most improper behavior, young lady.”

But Cathy was unimpressed by him pulling rank and continued crying, her little face red with the effort.

Simon sighed, frustration mixing with a strange sort of tenderness.

Addressing the baby as the duke was not proving to be a useful strategy.

What would Harriet do? He racked his brain for a possible answer. He remembered how the baby had laughed in his presence before, but she seemed to have forgotten all about it.

“Perhaps I should try rocking you,” his tone was miserable as he adjusted his grip, bringing little Catherine closer to his chest.

He began to pace the room, his steps slow and measured as he tried to emulate the soothing motion he had seen Harriet use.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice much softer now. “There, there… no need for tears.”

To his utter shock, his renewed strategy seemed to work. Cathy’s cries began to subside into softer whimpers, though she was still clearly unsettled.

At least she is not screaming anymore, Simon acknowledged to himself, feeling a flicker of relief.

But it was not enough. She was not yet completely soothed, and Simon hated leaving a task unfinished — no matter how ill-equipped he may feel doing it.

His thoughts drifted to his childhood. His mother used to sing a particular lullaby to him and Tobias when they were little, a sweet melody that always made them feel safe. It wasn’t something he often thought about, but now, standing in a dimly lit room with a crying baby in his arms, the memory surfaced unbidden. Starkly, as though it had only happened yesterday.

At first, he hesitated, feeling a bit ridiculous. But seeing that Catherine was moments away from bursting into a wail again, he got over his reservations and opened his mouth to sing, his voice low and calming, though he didn’t quite sing the tune.

“Sleep, little child, sleep all through the night,” he murmured, the words feeling strange on his tongue after so many years. “Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night…”

Cathy’s eyes, which had been tightly shut in distress, slowly opened. She looked up at Simon with wide, curious eyes. Her sobbing quieted to soft, hiccupping breaths.

Simon took this as more than enough encouragement to continue.

“Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and vale in slumber steeping…”

The way that Catherine was staring back at him now, there was no doubt that she was utterly captivated. Simon felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify. Was it… pride? Satisfaction? Whatever it was, it was certainly unfamiliar.

Now that she had calmed down considerably, he took a moment to gaze into her eyes.

“Well,” he still made sure to keep his voice low, “at least you have some taste, little creature.”

When he resumed the lullaby, he had much more confidence than before. It worked like a charm, as Catherine’s small body relaxed against Simon’s chest. By the time he reached the end, she was fast asleep, her breathing soft and even.

Simon gently lowered her into the cradle, bundling the sheets around her like a little cocoon and then stood back to admire his efforts — an unmistakable sense of triumph overcoming him.

“Goodnight, Catherine,” he murmured under his breath. But as he turn to leave, he noticed movement at the doorway and took a step back, startled.

Harriet was standing there, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips.

How long had she been standing there for?

He immediately straightened, his expression shifting from the tender look he’d been giving the baby to his usual composed demeanor. The warmth he’d felt moments before turned to embarrassment, and his only instinct was to retreat without communicating with Harriet.

He had only made it to the hallway when Harriet called after him.

“That was very sweet, you know,” she walked up behind him. “What you just did.”

“I was under the assumption that you were sleeping,” Simon’s words came out grumpier than expected.

“Evidently, I am awake now,” she said, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Simon’s frown deepened, partly from irritation at being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

“I was merely doing what was necessary,” he said, his tone brusque. “The child was crying, and I didn’t want her to wake you.”

Harriet’s smile widened, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “Oh, so this was all done for my benefit, was it? How considerate of you, Simon.”

Simon’s jaw tightened. The fact that she found all this amusing only added to his discomfort. “I was trying to help,” he repeated, more defensively than he intended.

Harriet moved closer, the smile never leaving her face for a second.

“And I appreciate that, truly. Forgive me for the assumption, but I believe…” she paused, biting down on her lip gently, “I get the impression that you might be a little embarrassed at being discovered.”

“Embarrassed?” Simon retorted, immediately riled up.

Had she forgotten? He was a duke. Embarrassment was not an emotion that he was used to feeling.

“You were adorable, Simon. I’ve never seen you so flustered.”

“Adorable? I am not adorable, Harriet. I was simply doing what was required.”

“Of course,” Harriet said, her smile not fading in the slightest. “You were simply being dutiful .”

“It is quite late. I suggest that you get some sleep, Duchess,” Simon turned on his heel, his mind racing for a way to extricate himself from this conversation.

But it seemed that the duchess was not yet done with the conversation. She followed him down the hallway, pacing to meet his rushed strides.

“I do not know why you are so bothered by this,” she called after him, “you know, you’re really quite good with Cathy. I think she likes you.”

Simon stopped abruptly, turning to face her with a scowl that was meant to be stern, but somehow lacked its usual sharpness.

“Harriet, you’re being ungrateful,” he said, trying to regain some measure of control over the situation. “I was trying to help you, and instead of thanking me, you’re mocking me.”

Harriet’s smile softened into something more sincere, though the amusement didn’t completely leave her eyes. She stepped closer to him.

“You’re right,” Harriet said, her voice quieter now, “I do appreciate what you did. It was very kind of you.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you should say ‘ thank you ’ , ” he said, “Are you familiar with those words?”

Harriet tilted her head, her lips curving into a smile. “Thank you, Simon,” she said.

There was something about the way she said it that made Simon’s pulse quicken.

He had thought she would have put up a bit more of a fight — as she usually did. Her earnestness had caught him off-guard.

They stood there, only inches apart, the space between them charged with an unspoken tension. Simon’s breath caught in his throat as he realized how close they were, how easily he could reach out and…

Simon abruptly stepped back, his usual composure snapping back into place. “You’re welcome.”

“I like when you are this way,” Harriet continued. “It shows me that there is gentler side to you, that you do not let come out nearly as often as you ought.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his irritation rising, not at her words but at the effect they were having on him. “I am a duke, Harriet. My responsibilities do not usually include rocking babies to sleep.”

Harriet’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “And yet you did it so well. Perhaps you’re more than just a duke.”

Simon’s heart pounded in his chest, her words hitting closer to the mark than he was comfortable with.

He needed to regain control of the situation. In a swift movement, he closed the distance between them.

“Harriet,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone, “I was only trying to help. You needed rest, and the baby needed comforting. Do not turn it into something it is not.”

“I was only sharing my opinion,” Harriet replied. “That is hardly a crime, Simon.”

“It is when your opinion is plain wrong,” Simon grunted.

Gentleness and dukedom were two things that must never be uttered in the same sentence. That was what Simon had learned from his father, who in turn had learnt the same thing from his father.

“Is it really so bad to call a spade what it is?” Harriet continued on, oblivious to his internal monologue. “At the start, I was convinced that you lacked a soft side to your personality. You do a good job of concealing it. But now I see that…”

“That is enough, Harriet,” Simon muttered through gritted teeth. “Anyone listening to you speak in that manner about a duke will surely be shocked.”

“Are dukes somehow above being human, Simon?” she drew herself up, even though he towered over her with his tall frame.

He was close enough now that he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

Once again, close enough that all he had to do was lean in a little further and…

Simon pulled back abruptly, breaking the spell. He turned away from her.

“Goodnight, Harriet.”

Without waiting for her response, Simon opened the door to his study and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind him.

He leaned against the door for a moment, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm his racing heart. What had just happened? Why had he reacted that way?

Simon moved to his desk, attempting to focus on the papers laying there — anything else than what had just transpired — but his thoughts were scattered, his mind refusing to settle.

Every time he tried to concentrate, his thoughts kept drifting back to Harriet, to the way she had looked at him, the warmth in her eyes, the softness in her voice.

Deciding that it was futile, Simon instead poured himself a glass of brandy, hoping the drink would help steady his nerves. He sat down behind his desk, staring at the glass as if it held the answers to the questions swirling in his mind.

What was happening to him? Why was he reacting this way to Harriet?

They had started as strangers, forced into marriage by circumstances beyond their control, and yet… there was something about her, something that was drawing him in despite his best efforts to maintain his distance.

And then there was Cathy. Holding the baby had awakened something in him, a feeling he couldn’t quite name but one that left him feeling unsettled. He had never considered himself the paternal type, had never imagined himself as a father. And yet, in that quiet moment with Cathy, he had felt a connection — a strange, unexpected bond that he didn’t know how to process.

Simon took a sip of the brandy, the warmth of the liquor doing little to ease the tension in his chest.

Simon had married Harriet out of duty, but now, things were becoming more complicated, more personal. The feelings that were developing for her — feelings he had been trying to ignore — were becoming harder to deny.

Simon leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of it all. He had always prided himself on his ability to control his emotions, to remain detached and objective in all things. But now, with Harriet and Cathy in his life, he felt that control slipping away, leaving him vulnerable in a way he had never experienced before.

He closed his eyes, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on him.

He needed to ensure that his brother gave him answers as soon as possible so that Simon could leave the estate, and return to his uncomplicated life.

Because one thing was for certain, the longer he stayed here, the harder it was going to be leave.

Harriet stood outside the study door, her hand hovering over the doorknob as she contemplated following Simon inside.

That there was some tension between them was undeniable. Part of her wanted to confront it, to understand what was happening between them. But another part of her hesitated, unsure if she was ready to face the full implications of what she was feeling.

What would you even say to him? Doubts began to fray at her resolve.

The duke, she was quickly discovering, was a complex individual. Each day that she spent with him, she discovered something new about him — adding to the ever expanding tapestry of the man she knew him to be.

Harriet had always prided herself on her ability to read people. But in this situation, she felt stumped. On one hand, the duke was a stoic man who only married her out of duty. On the other, he was a man with a soft heart and a tough exterior.

It both fascinated and frustrated her that she was not able to get to know him fully and completely. In a way that a wife usually ought.

After a moment of indecision, Harriet sighed softly and turned away, deciding to return to her room. Her curiosity would have to wait another day.

It was disconcerting, but also intriguing. Harriet found herself wanting to know more, to understand this side of Simon that he seemed so determined to hide.

When she reached her room, Harriet paused in the doorway of the nursey, her eyes falling on the cradle where Cathy slept peacefully.

She felt a rush of affection for the baby, but also a pang of uncertainty. The more time she spent with Cathy, the more attached she became, and yet there were so many unanswered questions, so many uncertainties.

Could Cathy really be Simon’s child?

That had been her initial assumption, of course. But later, she had abandoned the idea. But today after seeing Simon with Cathy — how naturally his paternal side had come to him — she began to ponder again if this could be the case.

After tonight, the question seemed more pressing than ever.

Harriet moved to the cradle and gently touched Cathy’s cheek, watching as the baby shifted slightly in her sleep.

If Cathy was Simon’s child, what did that mean for their marriage?

Harriet sighed, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. She had never imagined that her life would take such a complicated turn.

And yet, here she was.

It was something that both frightened and exhilarated her.