Chapter 21

Lady Oakham excused herself to lie down once they reached home, likely fatigued by the emotional journey she experienced that day. She probably went through most of the feelings available to the human mind—joy, anger, excitement, sadness—and needed a moment to allow her body to adjust. Rebecca offered a temple massage, but the countess declined. She wanted to be alone, which Rebecca understood.

Unwinding the scarf from her neck, Rebecca wanted to go and see Tommy and how Alice had fared with him. However, the duke stopped her before she reached the first step.

“Miss Barnes,” he called, prompting her to turn around.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

He scratched the side of his head, appearing shy. “Would you like to have hot chocolate with me in the drawing room?” he asked. “I find it’s the perfect beverage after being out all day in the cold. We can warm ourselves before the fire while we enjoy the drink.”

Rebecca stared at him in silence. He had just invited her to have hot chocolate with him in the drawing room. Her mind went momentarily blank, likely too shocked to absorb his words. She simply didn’t know how to react. It was very much unlike him.

“You do not have to if you’re busy,” he said quickly, his cheeks turning pink.

“No, it’s not that!” she exclaimed a tad too loudly. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t want to join him. “I would love to join you, Your Grace. Allow me to see your nephew first, and I’ll join you in a moment.”

He smiled, nodding. “Yes, of course,” he replied. “I’ll ask Mrs Harris to have the kitchen prepare our refreshments in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, bowing slightly.

She turned away, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other as she walked upstairs. A flutter of excitement started in her belly, travelling outwards rapidly. She was going to drink hot chocolate with the duke! A broad smile stretched her lips, not leaving her face even when she reached the nursery.

“What or who has you smiling like that?” Alice asked, looking up from a book.

“Nothing,” Rebecca said hastily, dropping her smile as her eyes fell on Tommy. He was fast asleep and seemed content. “How was he?”

“He fussed a bit, likely because you were not here, but he eventually settled down,” Alice replied. “He should wake up in another hour or so.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “The duke has asked to, uh, speak to me in the drawing room, so I’ll return and relieve you soon after. I know you wanted to continue weighing the herbs in our workroom.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “He just spent much of the day with you,” she pointed out. “Why does he still need to talk to you?”

Rebecca also wanted to know, but not for the same reasons. While Alice found the duke overbearing, Rebecca sincerely liked him and didn’t mind spending time in his presence.

“I’ll find out when I see him,” she replied. “I’ll return before his lordship awakens.” Alice nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You appear flushed. I hope you’re not getting sick.”

“Not at all,” Rebecca quickly said, touching her warm cheeks. “I was out in the cold for much of the day. You know the cold always makes my cheeks pink.”

She didn’t dare tell her old friend she was excited to spend time with the duke. Fortunately, no one would question her being alone with him because no one believed anything would happen between them.

The servants believed their master might as well have been a monk, and she was highly respected. Everyone would likely think she and the duke would discuss the countess, which they probably would. He had no other reason, but it did seem a little odd that he invited her to have hot chocolate with him. It seemed more like an intimate gesture, a beverage between friends.

Rebecca sighed, annoyed with her thinking. She was the nursemaid the duke’s sister had hired, not someone he would want to befriend.

Alice didn’t appear convinced, but she nodded. “I’ll make you a suitable tea to be on the safe side,” she said. “You can drink it once you’re done with the duke.”

Rebecca smiled. “Thank you, Alice. Please excuse me. I do not wish to keep the duke waiting.”

Rebecca hurried downstairs, briefly composing herself before entering the drawing room. The duke had taken an armchair near the fireplace, indicating she should take the other when he saw her arrive.

“They’re closest to the fire,” he explained.

She nodded, smoothing her dress as she sat down. It was the same blue as the redingote, except with more white to tone down the colour. The duke had also removed his coat and waistcoat, leaving just his white shirt and trousers. She loved him in this state of casual dress. It made him ... Her thoughts stopped abruptly when she realized the word she had so carelessly conjured in her mind. Rebecca could certainly not love anything about him!

“Is the fire too hot?” he asked, an uncharacteristic awkwardness making him seem younger. “I just stoked it and added another log.”

“It’s perfect, Your Grace,” she assured him, folding her hands on her lap.

They were trembling slightly, a silly reaction to her troubling thoughts. Rebecca was sinking into the very situation she had warned herself against, but for some reason, the alarm bells in her head were not as strong and loud as they should be. That should scare her even more.

The silence between them stretched, increasing their awkwardness. He had undoubtedly asked her to join him for a reason. It couldn’t be just to drink hot chocolate.

“Thank you for what you did today,” he finally said, leaning on the armrest as he looked at her. “You managed to get my sister out of the house. Today was her first time since my brother-in-law’s death.”

He just wanted to thank her again. Strangely, that was a disappointment. “You have already thanked me, Your Grace,” she pointed out. “Lady Oakham was the one who took the first step outside, so all the recognition belongs to her.”

“Do not lessen the miracle you have created,” he argued. “You came here to help my sister and nephew, but you have done so much more in a matter of weeks. You have brought a lot of good changes to the house.”

The admiration in his voice brought a flush to her cheeks. “I’m only doing what I believe is necessary,” she said. “I care about Lady Oakham’s well-being and want her to thrive.” She paused briefly. “Just as I hope you will thrive,” she added. “I believe you have so much more to give, Your Grace.”

Rebecca immediately bit her tongue as soon as she had said the last word, worried she had overstepped. Her concerns appeared to be warranted because she felt him withdraw. He sat back, turning to the fire. Inwardly sighing in regret, she clenched her hands in her lap, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

“When do you plan to leave?” he suddenly asked.

Rebecca looked up, releasing the lower lip she was gnawing. The question took her by surprise, so she needed a little time to process what he had said.

“Well,” she said, blinking rapidly. “I suppose that would depend on the countess and his lordship’s needs. I’ll leave once they no longer need me.”

Her insides twisted at the thought of leaving. Usually, there was some sadness whenever she moved on from anyone she had helped recover from an illness or life-altering event, but this was different. It wouldn’t be easy to leave the Andrews family, so perhaps she needed to distance herself emotionally before she caused herself harm.

The duke had fallen silent again. He didn’t respond to her answer, let alone look at her. Perplexed, Rebecca also looked into the fireplace. She briefly glanced at him, her stomach clenching as he rubbed his thumb across his lower lip. It was a habit she had noticed many times, but it never failed to affect her the same every time.

“Temptation is not the sin,” she mouthed to herself, fisting her hands on her lap.

If she were to reach over and rub her own thumb across his lower lip to judge its softness for herself—that would be the sin.

Thankfully, their hot chocolate arrived, lightening the awkwardness between them. She thanked Mrs Harris and lowered onto the soft carpet near the fireplace. Rebecca did it without thinking, but now that she was on the floor, she didn’t want to return to the armchair. She vaguely wondered if the duke would consider her rude, but the thought flew out of her head when he joined her on the carpet. She looked at him, her eyebrows high and eyes wide with surprise.

“It seems cozier here,” he explained, smiling sheepishly.

“It is,” she agreed, still watching him in amazement.

Other than when he had sat on the carpet in the nursery, she doubted he had ever done it anywhere else. The duke didn’t strike her as a man who willingly sat on the floor.

“I haven’t done this since childhood,” he said, grinning.

“Why?” she asked, shifting her body towards him.

He had kept a decent amount of space between them, but the setting was rather intimate. Sitting near the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate, and talking was a swoon-worthy situation. However, Rebecca wasn’t with just any man but a respectable duke with his eye on a suitable woman. She couldn’t read into matters that didn’t exist. She was the only one experiencing inappropriate feelings.

“Do you really wish to know why I haven’t sat on the floor since childhood?” he asked, linking his legs at the ankles. “Other than the previous day in the nursery?”

“Yes, I do,” she confirmed. “It’s a comfortable position and should be enjoyed by all.”

He smiled. “It is comfortable but unacceptable in my parents’ eyes,” he said. “I was taught I had to behave and think differently. Sitting on the floor was for children, commoners, and people who didn’t know any better. I had to ensure I was always above others, including how I sat and what I sat on. It sounds silly, but it was important to my parents that I never embarrassed myself, no matter the situation. I do not think I ever saw my father sit on the floor. It would have been demeaning to a man like him.”

It was silly, but what struck her the most was how he continued to follow the teaching despite knowing better. His parents had made a lasting impression on him that had remained with him until now.

“A king would still be a king even if he were in rags,” she said. “Clothes do not make the man, nor does his preferred way to sit. If sitting here before the fire makes you happy, you should continue to do it. There’s nothing and no one to stop you.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, looking at her as though she didn’t understand. “It is not as easy as you think, Miss Barnes,” he said. “While an aristocrat’s life is filled with many privileges, he is like a bird in a large, gilded cage. You keep to the rules if you wish to be accepted.”

Rebecca pursed her lips. “Rules,” she said, shaking her head. “Good rules are used to protect us from harm. Any other kind of rule is used to control us. I have never been one to blindly accept anything merely because many people follow that teaching.”

The duke chuckled lightly. “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” he said. “You do seem rebellious, but not overly so. I believe you must get away with most things because you present arguments that support your rebellious nature.”

Rebecca smiled, sipping her hot chocolate. She was rebellious according to the world they lived in but in the best possible way.

“It takes a rebellious nature to change things,” she said, lowering her cup until it sat on her thighs, warming her skin. “Rebels ask questions that need to be asked; they seek the truth and make changes that lead to a better world for all. Of course, not all rebels are good because some are self-seeking and would not think twice about hurting others for their gain. That is the rebel society thinks about when they use the word.”

“Your rebelliousness is likely what shaped you into the excellent nursemaid you are today,” the duke commented.

“Precisely!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Now, if you could understand that, you are capable of deciding what lessons given during your childhood are helpful and which are simply ridiculous. I’m interested to know what your parents did during picnics. Did they bring chairs with them?”

The duke’s eyes widened as though hit by revelation. “No, they didn’t,” he said. “They sat on the ground just like everyone else.”

“Yet sitting on the floor in the comfort of your own home was unacceptable?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The duke frowned. “I could have used that argument two decades ago.”

Rebecca laughed, amused by his tone. He sounded annoyed and somewhat crushed that he had not seen the bigotry in his parents’ teachings. Not that she blamed him. A young child was no match for their parents once they got it into their heads to teach their offspring anything they wished.

“You find this amusing,” he said, observing her with raised eyebrows.

Rebecca’s laughter immediately died. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Your Grace,” she said.

Feeling at ease in his company was so easy that she forgot that he was still an aristocrat. People with his social status tended to have no tolerance when their pride was hurt. The duke seemed different, but Rebecca couldn’t claim to know everything about him after just a few weeks of living under his roof.

“You didn’t offend me, Miss Barnes,” he claimed. “I suppose I’m still growing accustomed to how you see and react to things. It’s different. You also see the world differently, but you have to understand that our situations are different. You can afford to be different. I cannot.”

Rebecca frowned. She moved her legs to the side, leaned on a hand, and rested her cup before her. The movement gave her a little time to word her next words carefully.

“I’m a woman and a commoner, Your Grace,” she said. “One might say I only have one or two paths to follow from birth—servitude or marriage. Sometimes both. We’re at the mercy of those above us in status. I forged my own path, not because it was easy, but because I saw something wrong with my options. However, you are a man and a duke—you have the world at your feet. You can do anything you wish because you have wealth and power on your side. The only thing keeping you trapped is your mind.”

Rebecca didn’t mean to be so frank, but she didn’t regret what she said. The duke needed his eyes opened if he was going to live a happier life. She didn’t want to leave, knowing that he would continue to live as a bird in a cage his parents placed him in. She didn’t want to leave him at all, but at least she could walk away knowing he was happier. That knowledge would be enough to soothe whatever pain she might feel.

He said nothing for some time. His gaze was merely trained upon her, but she could see the wheels in his head turning.

“I do not think I have ever had someone be this honest with me,” he finally said, running his fingers through his hair. “Almost brutally so.”

Rebecca’s breath hitched. “Brutal, Your Grace?”

He had believed her honesty was brutal. Perhaps she had been harsher than expected, but it certainly hadn’t been her intention.

“I said almost,” he corrected. “Had you been anyone else, I would have been offended. However, I know your heart. You’re not one to speak with the intention to harm. I just need to digest your words a little more.”

He looked away then, lifting his cup and drinking. Rebecca gnawed her lower lip, uncertainty filling her. He didn’t appear angry but didn’t look at ease either. She had troubled him. Her heart sank, cursing her big mouth. She could have used gentler words; she could have—

“Is it really as easy as you claim?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Decades of living a specific way can be erased?”

He wasn’t looking at her yet. Rebecca desperately wanted to see his eyes and what he was thinking.

“People are amazingly resilient, Your Grace,” she replied. “You are stronger than you think, in mind and spirit.”

He turned to her, cocking an eyebrow. “In body, too?”

She blushed slightly. “That goes without me needing to say it,” she said, smiling when she realized he was teasing her.

That was a good sign. Perhaps he wasn’t upset with her. If only he would smile at her, she would know all was well.

“What do you propose I do to bring about the changes you believe I need?” he asked.

Rebecca hesitated. He had said the changes she believed he needed and not what he needed. This could be a trick question.

“I do not propose to dictate anything about your life, Your Grace,” she said.

“Then give me your opinion, Miss Barnes,” he said, leaning forward on his hand. His pale blue eyes bore into hers as his gaze arrested her. “Tell me what I need to do to achieve the same joy you have dangled above my head like mistletoe. Give me an excuse, no, a reason to use the mistletoe.”

Rebecca involuntarily shuddered, her mind running away with her. Mistletoe was used as a festive excuse to kiss someone, and now her eyes were locked on his lips as a scorching image filled her mind with the impossible—a kiss from him. Her body warmed, her lips parting to expel a trembling breath.

Rebecca understood what he had meant by using the mistletoe analogy. Kissing was an intimate gesture and was forbidden in most situations. Living a life while ignoring his parents’ teachings seemed like a forbidden thing to do. He wanted the excuse of joy to grab hold of that new life and make it his own. Despite this understanding, all she could think about was if he made her his.

“Miss Barnes?” he said, pulling her from her heated thoughts.

It could just be her imagination, but his voice sounded deeper and velvety. She quickly gulped some hot chocolate, glad it was lukewarm, or she would have burnt her poor mouth. Putting the cup down, she coughed and cleared her throat, suddenly wishing they had a window open.

“You do not need an excuse to be happy, Your Grace,” she said, relieved her voice was steady, if not a tad high-pitched. “You can learn from your past, accept everything you cannot change, and look forward to living the life you want. It’s not easy to take the first step, but it’s worth it.”

He smiled slowly, tilting his head. “If only I could have met you years ago and under different circumstances,” he said. He abruptly moved away, rising to his feet. “This has been an interesting conversation, Miss Barnes. However, I’m afraid I must excuse myself. Please do not get up on my account. Stay and finish the rest of your hot chocolate.”

Rebecca merely nodded, watching him walk away. Her mind had almost fractured after his surprising comment, and now she struggled to link a reason to it. The duke wished to have met her years ago and under different circumstances ... She didn’t understand what that meant, but she had seen the forlorn look in his eyes. He needed comforting, but she didn’t have that right beyond what he allowed.

Rebecca sighed, her shoulders sinking in disappointment. She was merely a hired servant in his household and would never have the right to bring him the happiness a good, loving woman provided.

“And that is how it should be,” she muttered.