Chapter Three

Frances decided to follow him instead of correcting him. At least this way she could see the children once.

Christopher stopped right before they entered the room, nervousness settling over his features.

“I shall warn you beforehand that they do not respond well to strangers at first.”

“Let me see for myself.” Frances walked into the room.

The last time she met the twins was on the day of their baptism, when they were only babies. But she knew more than enough about them thanks to Lydia’s letters. It was enough to give her the confidence she needed at that moment.

“Oh, my precious children.” She hurried over to their side at once.

The twins had grown so much since she had seen them last. Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back, not wanting to cry in front of everyone.

Ernest and Edwin blinked at her, not recognizing her.

“Well then, are you not going to do anything?” Christopher walked up behind her, his hands on his hips. “They haven’t been eating at all. What do we do in a situation like this?”

Frances’s eyes darted to the plate of food lying on the table nearby. She went over to examine it, holding it up to her nose to take a quick whiff.

“Boiled mutton.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line. “That’s it.”

“Yes, it’s what growing children like them need,” Christopher countered, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and confusion. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Lydia had mentioned that the twins had an aversion to the dish. It had made them vomit whenever she had tried to feed it to them, and the sight alone was enough to make them retch.

“This is not suitable for their diet.” Frances put back the plate on the tray and then folded her arms over her chest. “Have you been feeding them this the whole time? It is no wonder then that they are not eating.”

“I occasionally bring them some porridge as well,” the maid said. “But they have the same reaction.”

Frances was horrified. Ernest and Edwin were picky eaters and disliked all of the things that were mentioned.

“Something wrong with that, too?” Christopher asked, seeming irked. “I will have you know that we are ensuring that they get the best nutrition for their age.”

Frances ignored him and turned to the maid. “Would you fetch me a plate of cut pears?” Their favorite.

The maid looked at the Duke for confirmation, and he nodded. “I’ll bring it up straight away.”

“You have to eat if you want to grow up to be strong,” Frances cooed to the twins. “Even if it’s a little, you must.”

The twins simply shrugged their shoulders.

Frances hurriedly glanced around the room—it was no doubt that it did not belong to children. The bed was entirely too large, and there were hardly any toys present. She spotted a blank sheet of paper on the desk and went over to grab it.

“Here,” she said, folding the paper in half, “why don’t we try and play a little game while we wait?”

“Trust me, I have tried my best to keep them entertained,” Christopher quipped from behind her. “They never seem interested.”

Frances shot him a look to quieten him. His pessimism was hardly helping.

On the paper, she began to draw a series of dots arranged in a square formation. Then, she drew a line by connecting two of the dots.

“There, now your turn.” She passed the sheet and quill to the twins.

Without hesitating, they both took turns to draw lines of their own.

“What? How did you manage to do that?” Christopher was baffled.

She looked up at him with a satisfied smile. “Dots and boxes. Have you never played before?”

It had been Lydia’s favorite way to pass the time. Knowing her friend, there was no doubt in Frances’s mind that she taught her children the game as well.

“In my childhood, I suppose,” Christopher conceded. “I am surprised that you knew that they would like it, though. It would have never occurred to me.”

Frances wanted to tell him that she was no reader of minds—it was only because of Lydia that she knew. But admitting that would require her giving a lengthy backstory, which she did not deem appropriate in front of the children.

They exchanged paper back and forth, and the twins were slowly beginning to ease up, even though they had scarcely uttered a single word. Frances understood then that to make them comfortable, she had to provide them with experiences that they were already familiar with and enjoyed.

“Aha, fair play!” she exclaimed as the game drew to a close. She had willingly let them win. The smiles on their faces had made it worth it. “You both did so well, good job.”

Christopher had been quietly observing their interactions from the corner of the room, looking impressed.

“I haven’t gotten them to smile even once,” he admitted when Frances went to discard the sheet of paper.

“I suppose one of us is better at handling children than the other,” Frances replied and then tore her gaze away from him immediately.

Something about the intensity of his gaze made it difficult for her to string together coherent sentences, and it was best if she did not look at him directly for too long.

Christopher was about to retort when the maid came back into the room with the plate of cut-up pears.

“Very good, Rosaria. Now, let us see if they like what this mysterious knower of children has suggested,” he mused before taking the plate from her hands and putting it on the bedside table.

“It’s your favorite.” Frances smiled. “A win like that deserves a fair reward.”

Ernest was the first to pick up a piece, followed by Edwin, who was much more shy. But soon, they were digging into the fruit eagerly, famished from not having eaten properly for days.

“Well, I’ll be damned ,” she heard Christopher mutter under his breath.

Riding on the wave of confidence, Frances turned to Rosaria once again. “They look like they require a change of clothes and a bath. Make sure that the water is lukewarm. Oh, and as for their diet, boiled mutton is an absolute no. But they will eat boiled eggs in the morning, and potato stew for their meals. I’ll draw up a list for you.”

“I’ll draw the bath now.” Rosaria nodded. The poor woman looked positively enthused that something was finally working.

“Excellent.” Frances smiled and then turned to the twins. “A belly full of food, and a nice bath will do you right. And then it’s time for a nap.”

She touched their little hands lightly, and they did not flinch away. She was beginning to build trust with them only because she was saying all the things that they were already familiar with. It was a first step, but she felt pleased with what she had accomplished today.

“Will you come back?” Ernest asked quietly.

“Of course. I am not going anywhere,” she promised them.

To what degree could she keep that promise, she was not certain yet.

If she told Christopher the truth, would he let her visit? She knew that Peter’s family was not accepting of her friend Lydia at all. For a second, she considered the possibility of pretending to be their governess if only it meant that she got to spend time with them. But it was no good. What would she tell her family?

She was still lost in her thoughts when Christopher tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“A word? In private. ”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

She had almost forgotten that he was even there.

He led her back to his study, where he began pacing back and forth, scratching the back of his head.

“What a masterclass that was! Bravo! You seem to have done the impossible and gotten through to the children. You’re hired immediately. Surely, a woman with your skills must demand a great price, but rest assured, money is no problem. I will cover every?—”

“Your Grace,” Frances interrupted his rather enthusiastic monologue.

“What?” he asked, confused. “Now, do not say that you cannot commit full-time. Whatever your previous employer is paying, I am willing to pay double.”

She shook her head lightly. “I am afraid that you have this all wrong. When I told your butler that I was here to see the children, he must have misconstrued the reason for my visit. I am not here to become their governess.”

Christopher was looking at her with suspicion now. “But you handled them with such expertise. What other explanation could there be?”

“Their mother, Lydia, was a close friend of mine. I came right after I heard the news,” she admitted.

“Oh… I suppose I had not considered that.” He took a seat, scratching the back of his head.

Frances drew a sharp breath, steeling herself as Christopher motioned for her to explain herself. She felt her nervousness return, as what she was about to tell him, she had never admitted to a single soul. Not even her sisters.

“There is more to the story, of course. I am not only Lydia’s friend. I am the children’s godmother. That is why I know so much about them. When…” She paused, her nails digging into her palms. “When Lydia fell in love with Peter, she was working at my home as a maid. She confessed it to me, crying for days because she did not believe a match between them could ever be possible.”

“But Peter was madly in love with her,” Christopher added, stunned by the weight of her confession.

“He eventually proposed to her,” Frances continued, “but Society would have never accepted them. Which is why they chose to run away. I helped her go with him. In return, they made me their children’s godmother.”

“How am I to believe you?” Christopher raised an eyebrow. “The children did not know who you were. They should have recognized you if that was truly the case. For all I know, this could be the result of brilliant guesswork.”

“What benefit would I get from lying?” she shot back, vexed. “Besides, they moved to the countryside after their wedding. I was only able to meet the children once when they were baptized, of which they obviously have no memory. But I know more about them than anyone else. Lydia made sure of that—she wrote to me frequently.”

Christopher’s expression changed from shocked to placid. “So you were the reason why they got married?”

“I would not say I was the reason,” she sighed. “They were in love with one another, and no force could keep them apart. But I helped in whatever way I could.”

His shoulders stiffened, and he leaned back in his chair. “I see.”

“I hope you believe me now.” Her tone was pleading. “It’s been a terrible thing to stomach their awful and untimely demise. But it is even worse for the children. All I ask is that you let me visit them so I can be close to them.”

“They have suffered enough.” Christopher’s tone had turned cold. “What they need is a woman who will remain a steady presence in their life. If I allow you to visit them, they will suffer even more once you get married and start a family of your own.”

Albina’s face flashed in Frances’s mind alongside the expectation to marry.

Frances pursed her lips—she had not thought that far ahead.

“Y-your Grace…” She tried to compose herself. He was looking at her intently again, and it was making her feel flustered. “You have to think of the good of the children.”

“That is precisely what I am doing.” Christopher shook his head. “Quite frankly, unless you are planning to become my wife, I don’t think you should see my nephews.”

His tone dripped with sarcasm, but he had just pointed out a possibility that she had considered before.

Hitting two birds with one stone .

“If marrying you is the only way to be close to the children, then I accept.”

Frances did not know where the sudden courage had come from. But the words fell out of her mouth, as though it was the most natural thing to suggest.

When it came to the children, she was willing to go to any lengths.