Chapter 4

"I beg your pardon? That was not meant to be a proposal."

The woman stood firm in front of him. "The children need someone to look after them, and it is clear that no one else is better suited to the job than I am. However, I cannot be their governess, so the next possible outcome is that I marry the man whom they are in the custody of."

"What a clever, little plan you have concocted," Christopher replied sarcastically, a force of habit. "But did you once stop to consider why I would consider marrying a stranger?"

She shrugged, as though that was the least of her worries. "I would be doing the same. Besides, my mother has always said that no matter how long a courtship lasts, you only truly get to know someone after you marry them."

This woman is truly insane.

"I must say that you have some gall coming here and saying that to someone you have met for the first time."

"The situation demands it," she argued.

Christopher could see that she was not putting up a show. It was not uncommon for women to concoct all manners of nefarious plots to secure a marriage offer from a duke. But she did not seem like the type.

Peter's marrying Lydia had caused a great scandal, and his mother had never come to accept the woman as a part of their family. Christopher was of the opinion that his brother should be free to do as he liked, but the news had tarnished his family's reputation—something that he could not stand.

His jaw tightened as he considered what the woman was saying to him. Marrying a stranger?It was not something he could ever do.

"I can only give you this much," he began with a defeated sigh. "Once the children are settled in, you may visit them from time to time. But for now, I do not want them to be more confused than they already are."

"Now is the time that they need me most!" she argued. "Not to offend you, Your Grace, but at present, you do not seem to be doing the best job at making them feel at home."

Her sudden audacity irked him. What business did this strange woman have marching up to his home and telling him how lousy of a job he was doing, tending to his nephews? His own blood?

She may be their godmother, but blood was thicker than water.

"Thank you for the input, but I will soon hire a capable governess to do that for them" he replied. "I believe we are done here."

He could almost feel the anger bubbling inside her. She was acting like a maimed tigress forcefully being kept away from her cubs.

Without saying another word, she walked further into his study, getting almost too close to him before snatching a sheet of paper and a quill. Furiously she began to scribble something on the paper before handing it to him.

"The list of foods they like," she said through gritted teeth, "so that they do not starve while they are here."

He watched her storm out of the room, dazed by what had just taken place. To say that this had been the strangest encounter of his life would be an understatement.

* * *

Frances felt her hope plummet after her interaction with Christopher. If only he could see past himself, he would know that the children needed familiarity, and she was the only one who was capable of providing it.

She did not know much about him, only that Peter had a strained relationship with his brother and father from the little Lydia had told her. Given that, it was not surprising that Christopher was in the dark when it came to knowing anything about his nephews.

He wanted to rid himself of the responsibility and hire a governess. It was typical of men of his status to do so—absolve themselves of all responsibility by paying someone to do the job for them.

It irked her, and she wished that she had more of a say. Lydia had been ex-communicated by her own family after she ran off to marry Peter, and Frances was the closest thing to family that she had since.

"Where is it?" Albina's sharp voice greeted Frances when she walked in through the doors of Ramsbury Manor.

"Where is what?" Frances asked sheepishly.

She had been hoping to avoid her mother entirely, not having the energy to deal with her lectures after the day she had.

"The dress that you had gone into town to purchase," Albina reminded her, her eyebrow raised.

"Oh…" Frances had entirely forgotten about the excuse she had given her mother. "Um, I looked around a few shops, but there was nothing to my liking."

"I should have come with you. The ball is next week, and now you will have nothing to wear." Albina made no secret of her disappointment, which was heavy and overbearing.

Frances walked to the window, eager for a breath of fresh air. "I can always borrow something from Harriet, Mother. It is not too much of an issue."

"No, you will not. How do you plan on making a good impression if you show up there in clothes that have already been seen?"

"On Harriet, yes. But not me."

"People will assume that we cannot afford to buy our daughters separate clothes." Albina shook her head.

"Then we can head into town tomorrow to purchase a new dress," Frances offered, feeling at her wits' end.

Albina seemed to be in a bickering mood—which was not a surprise. "And a new personality. If you behave in the same timid way towards the gentlemen, as you always do, I do not see how things will progress enough for them to ask for your hand."

Frances's cheeks flamed. She recalled her interactions with Christopher and how she had so boldly asked him to marry her.

"Do we have to discuss this again, Mother?"

"Of course. Time is ticking, and it is almost the middle of the Season. All the best bachelors have already been snatched up."

"I am sure there is something left there for me," Frances replied, though her tone lacked any real conviction.

"Look at you." Albina stepped forward to gently caress the side of her daughter's face. "Such a beautiful young lady. You have inherited my good looks."

Frances almost cracked a small smile at that, but then her mother said, "But none of my charm. If only you spent less time with your books and more time socializing, we would not be in this conundrum."

Albina had a habit of complimenting her children, only to put them down in the same breath.

"Mother, I cannot really change myself so drastically overnight, can I? I am trying to do the best that I can."

"You need to charm the men who take an interest in you," Albina continued. "You must give them a reason to marry you—something that they cannot get from anyone else."

Like taking care of their orphaned nephews?

Frances pushed the thought out of her head.

"I will try to not let you down." She looked down at the floor.

Albina huffed, letting her disappointment be known, before she eventually left her daughter alone.

Shoulders slumped, Frances stared out the manor window.

This marriage was trickier than she had expected. As a young girl, she had always imagined not putting in much effort into finding a match—some handsome knight in shining armor would arrive to sweep her off her feet and bring her to her happily ever after. There was nothing about trying so hard to secure a match.

"Has she been on your case again?"

Frances started at the sound and turned around to find her sister Harriet before her.

"I'd rather not talk about it," she replied quickly.

"It is Mother's favorite pastime—giving her daughters a difficult time when they are of marriageable age. I shudder to think what she will do when it is my turn."

"You're better equipped at dealing with her, that is for certain," Frances sighed.

Out of the three sisters—Esther, Frances, and Harriet—the latter was the most outspoken. She knew how to stand up for herself, something which Frances was not good at.

"Then learn to take a page out of my book?" Harriet mused.

"And learn to charm men at balls so that they fall in love with me at the first meeting?"

Harriet chuckled lightly. "That, too. But I had meant in regard to handling Mother's insistent badgering."

"I just cannot stand making meaningless conversation with gentlemen, which Mother forces me to do. What happened to letting a connection form naturally?" Frances groaned. "I am sure that she expects the same from me in the next event that we are scheduled to attend."

"Naturally?" Harriet snorted. "You and I both know that word does not exist in Albina Cooper's vocabulary. Are the men she introduces you to really that dull?"

"I do not want to say dull?—"

"You do not have to be so nice all the time." Harriet narrowed her eyes at her sister.

"Fine. Perhaps they could be more forthcoming, but I am no better either. I let my shyness consume me, and then we get trapped in a long moment of silence."

"That sounds awful."

"Now you know." Frances pressed her lips together. "I wish I could borrow some of your natural ability to converse with anyone with ease. Heaven knows I need it."

Harriet put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You do not need anything that you do not already have. The right person will fall in love with exactly who you are."

Frances searched for her sister's face for any signs of insincerity, but it was not in Harriet's nature to say things just to make people feel better.

Frances was about to respond when the thunderous voice of their father, William, startled them.

"Girls, can you stop the talking in the hallway? I am working."

They looked at each other, before erupting into peals of laughter and then quickly disappearing before they got into more trouble.

* * *

"I trust that you have been holding up well?" Phillip, the Duke of Trowbridge, asked Christopher.

Phillip had convinced Christopher to come out to meet him for tea, providing a much-needed change of scenery.

"You know I am not one to dwell in my sorrows for long." Christopher managed a weak smile. "My focus is on the twins, for now."

"I can imagine how great of a change it must be to have children around the house. Luckily, you've always been a natural at dealing with them."

"That's what I used to think." Christopher laughed without mirth. "How are things at home with Esther and the children?"

"Oh, it's been going well. Esther asked me to send her regards."

Christopher smiled. It had been a while since he had last seen her. "I hope to visit as soon as things settle with the children. As soon as I find a governess."

"Perhaps I can help. The governess we have for our children must know someone. I can get you into contact."

"That would be perfect!" Christopher replied enthusiastically.

"In fact, it would be best if you spoke to her yourself. We have a dinner planned for tomorrow night with a few guests—a lot of them having children of their own. You should come. It would be a good opportunity to find out if anyone knows if there's a governess available."

"Phillip…" Christopher grinned. "This has been one of your best ideas to date. I shall see you there."

Phillip laughed at his friends' theatrics. "Seven sharp."

* * *

Frances fumbled with the front of her dress. She had arrived at Trowbridge Estate with her family at the invitation of her sister.

Albina Cooper did not miss a single dinner she was invited to by her oldest daughter, as her guests often included people from high society.

"Straighten your back, Frances," she hissed right before they walked in.

Harriet muffled a laugh at the exchange, and then when Albina was out of earshot—already having deserted her daughters to meet with the guests—she repeated mockingly, "Straighten your back, young lady. Or no man will even think of marrying you."

Frances laughed, too. "Where is Esther?"

After the tumultuous week she had, she wanted nothing more than to spend some time with her oldest sister—someone whom she considered a motherly figure.

"Busy with her guests. Being a duchess is no easy task." Harriet grinned. "I'll get us something to drink to pass the time."

A few moments later, Harriet returned with two glasses of lemonade. Frances sipped on the cool liquid, grateful for the relief it provided from the hot summer night.

"Frances! Harriet!"

Esther finally spotted her two sisters and raced over to them, wrapping them up in a hug. "Oh, I am so happy that you could make it."

"Happy to see you, Your Grace." Harriet grinned, holding up her glass.

Esther had outdone herself in hosting this intimate gathering. As Frances glanced around, looking at all the different guests who were in attendance, her eyes suddenly landed on a figure standing by the grand fireplace.

The color nearly drained from her face.

"What's the matter?" Esther asked, noticing the sudden change of her sister's expression.

Frances swallowed thickly and pointed in front of her. This was the last person she had expected to run into here.

The man was tall and imposing, his dark suit impeccably tailored, setting off his broad shoulders and confident stance. His deep blue eyes scanned the room, and Frances wondered whether she should hide. It was Christopher.

She leaned close to Esther. "Who is that?"

Of course, she very well knew who it was. But what was his connection to Esther?

Esther followed her gaze, and her lips curled into a small smile. "That's Christopher Grant, the Duke of Huntington. I believe you've met him before, though it was quite some time ago. He's been away for a while, taking care of family matters."

Frances's eyes widened. "Are you sure of that?"

"Of what?" Esther looked at her sister with a strange expression.

"Of us meeting."

Frances's heart was fluttering in her chest. There was no way—could it be that Christopher had already told people about her visit? It would not bode well for her reputation if it were discovered that she had visited a gentleman in his manor, unchaperoned.

"Of course, you have. Though, this was some years ago. I introduced both of you at the ball. It was quite a brief interaction—maybe that is why you do not remember."

And suddenly, Frances's memory was jogged. She remembered now. "That was the Duke of Huntington?"

"Why, yes. I introduced him with his name, not his title. Perhaps that is why you have such a difficult time remembering."

Frances felt her palms grow sweatier by the second. "Ah, yes, Christopher. He seems… different."

"Different good or different bad?" Esther teased lightly, observing her sister with curiosity.

"Different," Frances replied, stealing another glance at him. He was speaking to some of the ladies now, engrossed in some conversation.

Esther's expression softened. "He does, doesn't he? Christopher has had his share of challenges. After his brother's tragic accident, he took in his twin nephews. He's been dedicated to them completely, barely seen in Society until recently."

Frances tried her hardest to play aloof. She did not want her sister to know that she knew of the accident already and that she had an important connection to the twins.

No one in her family knew of the extent of her friendship with Lydia. Lydia was only supposed to be her maid, and nothing else. While it was normal for a lady to have some sort of a relationship with her lady's maid, it was unheard of for someone to go to the extent that Frances did to help her lady's maid.

"Do you think…" Frances paused. "Do you think he can take care of them on his own?"

Esther furrowed her brow. "Who is to say? It is surely a huge responsibility for anyone. But knowing Christopher, he will figure it out."

Frances was surprised by how highly her sister seemed to be speaking of him. Her curiosity was piqued, and she could not help herself.

"Do you know if there is anyone in his life? Someone that could, perhaps, help him out?"

"You mean to look after the children?" Esther raised an eyebrow. "He's here tonight, I think, to finally step back into the world—perhaps even look for a governess or some help."

Frances was about to press for more details when Esther was called over by another set of guests who had just arrived.

"Excuse me, dear. Make yourself comfortable please, and I shall join you soon."

With Esther now gone, Frances felt on edge again. She kept glancing over at Christopher, and then finally, he looked back at her.

* * *

"Oh, I am not sure if you'll be able to find someone competent in such a short time period." Lady Malboro shook her head in front of a disappointed Christopher.

"I am willing to pay whatever price."

"I am sure of it. But a good governess remains loyal to the family she serves. There is a chance you can find one in other parts of the country, but it will take a few months at least."

"A few months?" Christopher repeated, stunned. He did not know that governesses were in great demand until now that he required the services of one. "But that is far too long."

"I am afraid that is the only option, if you want someone who is truly competent. I could arrange for a low-tier governess more quickly?—"

"No, I want only the best," Christopher cut her off halfway. "I suppose I should best keep looking."

With slumped shoulders, he ended the conversation and excused himself. His search for a governess was so far turning out terribly. All the ladies at the dinner had told him the same thing.

Dejected, he retreated to a corner of the room. He had thought that attending this dinner would be a breeze, and he would find someone through the connections of the ladies here. So far, it seemed, luck was just not on his side.

His gaze swept over the guests, looking for someone he had not yet spoken to about this. And then he spotted a familiar face. A slight furrow formed between his eyebrows as he tried to remember where he had seen her before.

Is that Frances? What on earth is she doing here? Has she followed me all the way here?

As he looked her way, she seemed to have caught his gaze as well. She looked different—transformed from the demure figure he remembered into a polished lady. It momentarily took his breath away.

He approached her with a hesitant step. "Frances?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Your Grace." A blush bloomed in her cheeks.

"I did not expect to run into you this evening." His gaze trailed down her dress, which was an improvement from the plain cotton one she had on when they last met.

"I could say the same for you, Your Grace. But I am here for my sister." She pointed to where Esther was standing.

"Your sister?" Christopher furrowed his brow, and then realization dawned on him. "I was not aware that you and the Duchess were related. I am close friends with the Duke."

"So I've learned." Frances bit her lip, "How is your search going thus far? For the governess?"

"Oh, I should be able to find one any day now, I believe," he lied.

He did not want to tell her just how futile his efforts had been so far.

She frowned. "I see. And how are the children doing?"

"They're doing well. Listen—" His voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "Does your family… know? Of your connection to my brother and his wife?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. I would appreciate it if you did not tell them either."

"Right." He took a step back, his jaw tight. "Well, if anything, I must commend you for keeping such a big secret for so long."

Frances shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever I did, I did for a dear friend. I do not regret it."

Christopher was surprised by her boldness. She stood by her friend, even now that she was gone. Women from her class usually did not dare to associate themselves with commoners.

"And I wish to do more," she continued, balling her fists at her sides. "I care about those children. I just wish that you could see it."

I'm beginning to.

Christopher was about to tell her she should visit again when she left abruptly, seeming upset. He was left staring after her in confusion.

They did not interact for the remainder of the evening, but she remained on his mind. Now that he knew more about her, her earlier suggestion of marriage seemed even more puzzling.

A woman from a respectable family, willing to put her reputation on the line for the future of children whom she was only related to by a promise made to a friend. It revealed something about her character that left Christopher impressed the more that he thought about it.

His return to Huntington Manor was marked by unexpected chaos. As he stepped through the doors, he was met by a panicked Rosaria.

"Y-your Grace, you are here," she nearly yelped at the sight of him.

"What has happened? You look positively distressed." His brow furrowed, and his mind immediately went to the children.

"Your Grace, you have to forgive me. But I have made a grave mistake. The twins, they were asking me questions again about their parents, and I… I let it slip that they had died in an accident. I know that you did not want to tell them straight away, but?—"

Christopher held up his hand to silence her. "It is done now. Let me handle it."

Thus far, he had only told the children that their parents were away. They did not know the details of what had happened, thinking their parents would return soon. It was unfortunate that it had to come out like this, but the truth could have only been hidden for too long.

He hastened his steps towards the twins' room, his heart rate quickening as he got closer. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light casting shadows on the ornate carpet. Pushing it open, he was met with a scene that nearly broke his heart.

Edwin lay curled up on the bed, his small body shuddering with sobs, while Ernest, ever the protective older brother by mere minutes, sat beside him.

"Edwin, Ernest," Christopher called softly as he entered. "I am here now. There is no need to worry."

Ernest looked up, his eyes red and watery, a mix of relief and desperation crossing his features. "Uncle Chris."

Christopher knelt in front of their bed, gently reaching out for them. "I am sorry that you had to find out this way."

"Are our parents never going to return?" Edwin mumbled.

Christopher shook his head. "I will take care of you now."

It looked like Edwin had been crying for some time now. His eyelids fluttered, weighed down by exhaustion, and slowly, with the comfort of Christopher's presence, he drifted off to sleep.

Turning his attention to Ernest, Christopher furrowed his brow. "You've been so brave tonight. Let's get some rest now."

But Ernest shook his head stubbornly, his small hands clutching the blanket. "I want Frances," he insisted.

"Frances?" Christopher was surprised the boy even remembered her. Her meeting with the twins had been so brief, but it had left an impression.

"I remember how that she was the friend whom Mother used to speak about. I want her here."

"Edwin, it is late at night. Frances is at her home, we cannot disturb her at this hour."

Edwin shook his head, and Christopher saw a flash of his brother in him at that moment. The boy was stubborn, just like his father.

"I will not go to sleep until she is here. She promised that she was going to come back. Did she not?"

Christopher was at his wits' end. After the stressful week he had, he did not have the energy to argue with a five-year-old. Sure, he could send him to bed regardless. But it did not feel right to break his heart after he had received such awful news.

Besides, Edwin looked as though he was on the verge of tears. Christopher, for all his charm, had no experience in soothing a distressed child.

"I'll see what I can do."

"You have to promise me." Edwin grasped his wrist. "Please, Uncle."

Christopher left the room and immediately went to his study. The twins' distress tonight was more than he could bear, and Ernest's insistent plea for Frances had pushed him to this moment.

He began to write, each word carefully chosen.

Dear Lady Frances,

I hope this letter finds you well, despite the late hour of its arrival. I apologize for the urgency and the directness of my request, but I find myself in a situation beyond my experience and ability to comfort.

As I write this, my nephews, Ernest and Edwin, are in a state of considerable distress due to recurring nightmares that have plagued them this evening. While I have tried to provide comfort, it has been to no avail. Ernest has expressed a specific desire for your company, believing firmly that your presence would ease their fears.

I must ask if you could consider coming to Huntington Manor at your earliest convenience to visit the boys. I understand this is an unusual request, particularly given the hour, but your assistance tonight would be invaluable.

Please ensure that this letter is seen by yourself and your maid only, as I wish to maintain discretion and avoid any unnecessary complications or gossip that might arise from this situation. My valet has instructions to deliver this directly to you and await any response you may have.

Thank you for considering this sudden plea. I am at your service should you need any assistance in making the journey here.

Yours sincerely,

Christopher Grant, Duke of Huntington.

After sealing the letter, Christopher rang for his valet. The man entered promptly, a look of concern etched on his features.

"Take this to Lady Frances Cooper at Ramsbury Manor immediately. Make sure it is given directly into hers or her maid's hands," Christopher instructed, his tone leaving no room for error.

"Yes, Your Grace," the valet replied, taking the letter with a nod.

As he watched him leave, Christopher considered the repercussions of calling her to his estate at this hour. But there was no going back now.

Something had to be done for the twins. He could not bear to see them hurt like this for long.