Chapter 8

Frances waited for him to continue, but instead, Christopher motioned for her to take a seat.

"But it would be better if we make ourselves comfortable. I want to get the whole story, and just standing around will not do."

Frances nodded and settled into a plush armchair, feeling her anxiety bubble up inside her.

What is it that he wants to talk to me about?

Her mind was hurling every absurd possibility at her.

Christopher took a seat opposite her, his expression curious."Frances, I've been meaning to ask you something. How did you manage to become so close to the twins so easily? They seem to trust you completely."

"Oh…"

That's it?

Somehow Frances had expected something entirely different.

"I've known about them for a long time," she began, her voice steady. "Lydia was my only friend, apart from my sisters. We grew up together, and I never saw her as just a maid but as a dear friend."

"It is quite rare to hear that."

"Is it?" Frances shrugged her shoulders. "I have never really seen it that way. Though, we had to keep our friendship a secret. My mother would have never approved."

"Women from families like yours do not mix with the likes of Lydia," he noted, and he raised his hands defensively when Frances shot him a look. "Though, I do not object to it. I did not even have a problem with Peter deciding to marry her."

Frances nodded.

"But I did not mean to interrupt you. Please continue. I find your story…" Christopher paused for a moment. "fascinating."

He listened intently, his eyes fixed on her. She liked how he made her feel—like what she was saying truly mattered.

"Lydia and I exchanged letters frequently. She would tell me all about the boys and their lives. I remember the day Lydia met Peter. It was an accident, really. She was in town, running errands, and they crossed paths. It was love at first sight for both of them."

Christopher nodded for her to continue. "You know the story much better than me. I did not know much about my brother's life. So I want to hear everything."

Frances's eyes softened at the memory. "Peter was the one who proposed they elope and live the life they wanted, away from the judgment of the ton. I helped her leave the manor without being seen. It was risky, but they were determined to be together."

Christopher leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "You were very brave to help them like that."

Frances smiled faintly. "It didn't feel like bravery at the time. It felt like helping a friend in need. The year the twins were born, my parents were preoccupied with finding a match for my sister Esther, as she was close to spinsterhood. When I announced I would be visiting a friend in the countryside, they didn't pay much attention. That's how I became the twins' godmother."

Christopher's expression softened as he absorbed her words. "You must have been a great comfort to Lydia."

"I tried to be. Losing her was incredibly hard. But knowing I could be here for her boys now means everything to me."

Christopher reached out and gently took her hand. "You've done more for them than I could have imagined. They trust you because you truly care for them, and they can feel that."

Frances felt a warmth spread through her at his words. "Thank you, Your Grace. That means a lot to me."

Christopher's gaze held hers, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. "You did it again."

She blushed at his words, all too aware of how his fingers had felt on her skin, even if for a brief moment.

"Christopher," she corrected herself, for the umpteenth time.

* * *

It was not every day that Christopher was shocked by something. He had lived a full life, and it took a lot to get him to react like he currently was.

It was her boldness that had caught him off-guard.

He never expected such a shy lady to be so courageous and determined. He realized that when it came to helping others, Frances would stop at nothing. She had demonstrated the same resolve when he first mentioned their marriage.

"Did I say something?" Frances asked, worry lacing her tone. He had been quiet for too long, it seemed.

"No, no." He straightened up quickly. "I was just… never mind." He shook his head.

He could see that Frances was curious, but she did not push. He liked that about her. Too many people did not know when to stop.

"I am sure Lydia would have been very proud of you if she were here." The words were earnest and rolled right off his tongue.

She looked away. "I have some questions for you, if you do not mind."

"Pray tell." Christopher leaned forward, curious.

"How is it that you're not close to the twins?" Frances asked. "I do not mean to pry, but it is just a bit odd, considering you are their uncle by blood."

Christopher's expression grew somber. "Ah, that is a bit of a long story."

"With Mrs. Bellum gone, and the children sleeping, I suppose we have some time…"

"Well, in that case…" Christopher stood up to retrieve a bottle of wine. He popped the cork and then poured each of them a glass. "I hope that you enjoy some red wine?"

She smiled. "I prefer white, but I shall make an exception on this day."

"I do not know how I will ever be able to return the favor…"

They clinked glasses, and Christopher sighed happily as the smooth liquid slid down his throat.

It was not as though he needed the drink to talk frankly. That had never been a problem for him.And especially with Frances, he felt that conversation flowed easily anyway.

But there were some things he was not accustomed to speaking about. His family was one of them.

"I await in anticipation for what you are about to reveal to me." Frances's tone was lightly sarcastic. He must have been rubbing off on her already.

"My brother and I grew up in different homes. Our parents separated when we were young, and my mother took Peter while I stayed with my father. We were never close because of that distance."

The words tumbled out of his mouth in one go, and he took a sip from his glass, giving her a moment to absorb what he had just told her.

"Oh, I did not know…"

"Hardly a crime." The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, though he did not find anything funny. "How would you have known?"

"I have to say that I have never been too privy to the private lives of people. So if this news is openly being circulated around the ton, then I surely did not know it."

"I am sure your mother was well aware of it."

She shrugged her shoulders absent-mindedly. "That is very likely true. But my mother and I rarely shared gossip at home. I mostly kept to myself, and felt closer to my sisters rather than my mother."

"I suppose that is something we differ in," he noted, before taking a sip out of his glass.

"Do you feel as though you lost out on something?" Her words were soft. "By not knowing much about your brother?"

Christopher gave her a smile, but it did not do much to hide the sadness that suddenly eclipsed his features.

"I would not say I felt like I lost out on anything, but there was always a desire on my part to have my brother by my side as I grew up."

Only after uttering the words did Christopher realize that this was the first time he had articulated such feelings out loud.

Frances noticed the sadness in his eyes despite the smile on his face. "That must have been difficult," she said softly.

Christopher's fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. "I always felt guilty for not being there for him more. When I found out about his death, it was like a part of me died with him."

Frances reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against his in a comforting gesture. The contact made them both freeze. She felt a surge of emotion she hadn't expected, and Christopher's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected touch.

Embarrassed by her impulsive action, Frances quickly withdrew her hand and stood up. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush with heat. "I didn't mean to?—"

Christopher gently caught her hand, preventing her from fleeing. "Frances, it's alright," he said softly, his gaze holding hers. "You don't have to apologize."

But it seemed that the moment had already become too intense for Frances.

She gently pulled her hand free and took a step back. "I should go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Christopher."

He watched her go, unable to take his eyes off her. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable. Not in the slightest.If anything, he felt more comfortable with her than with anyone else.

It was a strange realization.

How was it that a woman he barely knew could evoke such a sense of peace and belonging in him? For most of his life, Christopher had kept his emotions tightly guarded, his interactions measured and controlled. Yet, with her, those walls seemed to crumble effortlessly.

He sank into the armchair, his thoughts consumed with Frances. His wife.

The title felt so strange still. But somehow, it also felt right.

What did he really feel for her?

It was more than just a sense of duty or the hope for a stable future for his nephews that drew him to Frances. There was something about her presence that soothed him, something that made him feel seen and understood in a way he had never experienced before.

He wondered what Phillip would say to him if he sought his advice. Though, he had to be careful now. Frances was the sister of his friend's wife, and he knew that he could not hurt her in the slightest. It would not only fill with endless guilt, but it would also ruin his friendship with Phillip.

Christopher closed his eyes, allowing the quiet of the room to envelop him.

He had always prided himself on his ability to control and manage every aspect of his life. But with Frances, control seemed to slip through his fingers, replaced by a feeling of surrender and acceptance that he couldn't quite grasp.

He had proposed to her out of a sense of necessity and responsibility, but now he wondered if there was something more driving his actions. Could it be that he was beginning to care for her, to want her not just as a companion for the boys but as a partner for life?

The thought scared him, a lot. And for now, he was going to discard it.

After all, if he did not acknowledge that it was happening, he did not have to deal with the consequences. Whatever they may be.

* * *

Frances hurried down the corridor, her heart racing. She felt a mix of embarrassment and something else she couldn't quite identify.

The intensity of their conversation and the brief, unexpected touch had left her feeling vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated.

"What has gotten into you?" she chided herself, catching a glimpse of her face in the hallway mirror. Her cheeks were reddened in the wake of their little moment.

She knew she needed to compose herself before facing the household again, but one thing was clear: her feelings for Christopher were growing.

He had admitted something personal to her in a vulnerable moment, and in turn, it had stirred feelings for him in her heart.

Was it romantic? It was too soon to tell. But it was clear that they were not strangers who only happened to be married to one another anymore.

Moving forward, she knew that she was going to have to tread carefully around him.

The walls she had built around her heart were not easily breached, but Christopher had a way of slipping past her defenses, of making her feel seen and valued in a way she hadn't expected.

Maybe, just maybe, this marriage would grow into something more than a mere arrangement.

It was something that she always wanted, after all.

But then she quickly chided herself.

You are being a fool and getting far ahead of yourself than you ought.

One wrong move and she might just end up losing her heart to him.

The twins are your only priority. They need you, and you do not need to complicate things for them.

* * *

The next day, Frances had arranged a picnic by the river to help Christopher get closer to Ernest and Edwin. The day was bright and sunny, perfect for outdoor activities. She spread out a blanket and unpacked the basket, which was filled with delicious treats she hoped the boys would enjoy.

Christopher looked around appreciatively. "Well, what do we have here? It appears that the Duchess has arranged for a little outing."

"I thought it would be good for the boys," Frances replied, watching Ernest and Edwin explore the area, and then bit her lip. "Of course, there is the added benefit of a bonding opportunity between the three of you."

Christopher nodded at her. "That is quite thoughtful of you."

As they settled down to eat, Frances encouraged the boys to speak more.

"Boys, your uncle would love to play sports with you." She shot Christopher a pointed look. "Wouldn't you?"

"Of course," he replied hurriedly, playing along.

"Would you like to tell your uncle what sort of sports you like?"

Edwin and Ernest were shy at first, but Frances did not relent. "Perhaps it was horse riding that your father was so fond of?"

"We have never ridden a horse," Edwin admitted.

"Oh, how lucky then that your uncle has stables right on the estate." Frances grinned at Christopher—the hint to take over from here.

"Ah, yes. Would you like for me to teach you?" Christopher softened his voice. "I could do that well."

Edwin's eyes lit up. "Yes, please. Father promised that he would teach us once we were older."

"Then I promise you, I will make it happen," Christopher assured.

Even Ernest was looking more interested now, his initial wariness fading.

As they talked, Frances began to set up the lunch that she had packed for everyone.

The picnic was going right as planned so far, and she could not be more delighted.

After lunch, the boys started running around. Christopher watched them, a small smile forming on his lips.

"It's nice to see them act like children again," he remarked.

"Oh, you should join them," Frances encouraged. "I am sure that they would like that a lot."

Christopher shook his head. "I am afraid that I am a bit too old to be playing like this in the garden."

"It would help them grow closer to you," she pushed, a flicker of determination in her eyes.

"That is your mission, after all?" he questioned.

"Indeed, it is. I believe that we have already made some remarkable progress, as is."

Christopher took his head, laughing to himself.

"I cannot believe I am doing this…" he scoffed, and then chased after Ernest, who let out a delighted shriek. Edwin joined in, and soon the area was filled with the sounds of laughter and playful shouts.

Frances watched them with a smile, feeling a sense of contentment.

I hope you can see how happy they are, Lydia.

"Are you not going to join in?" Christopher ran to her, grinning wildly. "It is unfair that we have all of the fun. Is it not, boys?"

"I do not think that it would be proper," Frances protested feebly.

She thought back to her mother, who would wholly disapprove of her daughter running around in a dress.

Highly unbecoming of a lady. You should know better, Albina would have said.

"I am sure that the children would love nothing more," Christopher urged.

Frances looked back at their faces and did not have the heart to disappoint them.

Well, what Mother does not know, won't hurt her.

Perhaps she could make an exception, just this once.

She decided to join in the fun and ran after Edwin, her laughter mingling with theirs.

"You better catch us." Christopher laughed, herding the two boys together.

Frances found herself getting caught up in the game soon after. It was fun, she had to admit that.

They were far from the garden now, having run all the way over to the river banks. Edwin stuck out his tongue at Frances, urging her to catch him.

She ran towards him, so caught up in the game that she did not notice the edge of the riverbank. Within a second, she slipped and fell into the water with a splash.

"Frances!"

The cold shock took her breath away, and she struggled to find her footing, splashing around in the water.

Without wasting another second, Christopher dove in after her, reaching her in a few swift strokes. "I've got you," he said, his voice calm and reassuring as he helped her to the surface.

She grabbed onto him tightly, her heart racing from what had just taken place.

"You really ought to be more careful." Christopher's tone was protective as he set her down on the ground. He removed his jacket and placed it around her arms. "We should get you dry."

He noticed that she was shivering and immediately began to rub her arms above the fabric of his jacket. She blushed at the contact, but their moment was short-lived as she finally noticed the twins watching them with horror, their small bodies trembling with fear.

"Are you alright?" Ernest asked, his voice quivering.

Frances knelt down and hugged them both tightly. "I'm fine, my dears. Just a little wet," she soothed, trying to sound cheerful despite her shock.

Christopher placed a reassuring hand on their shoulders."Everything's alright. It was just an accident," he said gently. "See? Frances is perfectly fine."

The boys looked at Frances, who nodded and gave them a warm smile. Slowly, their fear began to ebb away.

"I'm sorry I scared you," Frances said, kissing the tops of their heads.

Ernest and Edwin clung to her for a moment longer before finally letting go.

"We were just worried," Edwin said quietly.

"I know," Frances replied softly. "But I'm alright, and so are you."

Christopher helped her to her feet, his eyes filled with concern. "You should get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold."

Frances nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "Thank you, Christopher. For…"

Saving my life?

Surely, she would not have drowned, but if he had not been there to pull her out of the water, she would have fallen sick due to the lengthened exposure to the cold water. She was not the best swimmer either, so perhaps drowning was not too far of a possibility either.

"No need to worry about it," he assured her.

The commotion had alerted the staff that was nearby, and Christopher instructed them to safely escort the twins inside the estate.

He did not let go of Frances, however, and insisted on being the one to take her inside.

"I feel quite clumsy," she admitted once he led her into her room.

It was at that moment that she finally got the opportunity to look at him properly. He was equally as soaked as her. But since he had given her his jacket, he was left in only a thin cotton shirt that clung to his body.

Her eyes widened as she took note of his strong, muscular physique.

"Oh…" she murmured before she could control herself.

She tried to avert her eyes, but her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson.

Christopher caught her flustered expression and couldn't resist a playful smirk. "Frances, is something the matter? You seem a bit distracted."

Frances quickly looked away, her heart racing. "No, nothing at all. I just… thank you again, for coming to my rescue."

Christopher's smile widened, and he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You can look at me, you know. I won't bite."

Her blush deepened, and she found herself at a loss for words. "I… you should get changed, too."

"No need to worry about me, love. I used to go for a swim in those very waters each morning. It is nothing new for me."

That would explain his hard muscles. She bit her lip, red as a rose.

Christopher kept looking at her, too. A mix of amusement and curiosity.

Does he enjoy seeing me get flushed like this?

It seemed that was the case.

"You know, Frances, it's a good thing I was there to save you. Otherwise, you might have had to wait for someone else to come along. Are you embarrassed that you couldn't swim and had to rely on your husband?"

Frances shot him a sidelong glance, her heart still pounding. "I… I wasn't expecting to fall in, that's all."

Christopher chuckled softly. "Next time, perhaps we should have a swimming lesson. Just in case."

Frances bit her lip, unsure how to respond. The playful glint in Christopher's eyes made her feel both flustered and intrigued.

"In fact…" He stepped closer to her again "I think I should take it upon myself to ensure that you know how to swim properly. We cannot have the Duchess drowning now, can we?"

He was staring at her again. She looked up, and caught his eye.

"That would be less than ideal," she croaked.

"We cannot let that happen"—he lowered his voice—"under any circumstances."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. It felt oddly romantic, the moment between them.

For a second, Frances wondered if he was going to reach out and touch her. But then she sneezed, and the moment was effectively over.

"Bless you." He smiled teasingly.

But the moment had been over, and Frances had snapped back to reality.

"Are you always this non-serious about everything?" Her mood had quickly shifted, and now she felt annoyed by his non-seriousness.

"What did I say?"

"You know, you just find a joke in everything," she huffed, irked. "Not everything is a laughing matter."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Frances. I just thought we could use a little levity." He seemed surprised by her reaction.

As was she, to be fair. She did not know why she was snapping at him like this, but she could not stop herself either.

"Sometimes, it feels like you're not taking things seriously. Like you're making light of everything, even when it matters."

She sneezed again, and his expression softened.

"You should make yourself warm," he reminded her.

"Don't tell me what I should do."

He stared at her, partly in shock and partly in concern. "What was in the water? It is like you have been bit by a snapping creature…"

She rolled her eyes. "You are doing it again!"

"I really do not know why you are getting so upset at this. I have never been chided for having a sense of humor…" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Are you sure that is about my jokes?"

No, she really wasn't sure at all. But obviously, she was not going to let him know that.

"Has it ever occurred to you that people only laughed at your jokes because you are a duke?"

Her words were unwarranted, and she immediately regretted them. But he took a step back from her.

"Is that what you really think?"

Silence fell over them, hanging in the air like a leaf from a tree that was on the verge of collapsing but just did not.

"You seemed to like my humor before," he continued, and she could hear in his voice that she had gone too far.

She reeled herself in. Arguing was not the way to deal with her confusing feelings.

"I suppose I went too far," she relented.

"You suppose?"

"Well, I did."

His expression softened as she admitted to her mistake.

"Right, no worries, then. You still are quite cold though, and I do not wish for you to fall sick.I shall call in the lady's maid. She will help you get changed out of your clothes."