Chapter 17

Seventeen

T he door to Victor's study swung open with such force that the papers on his desk fluttered. His head snapped up, brows furrowed, as little Agnes stood framed in the doorway. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and her cheeks were streaked with fresh tears.

"Agnes," Victor's voice was low, controlled, though concern instantly tightened in his chest. He set down the letter he had been reading and rose from his chair. "What has happened?"

Her lip trembled, and with a quivering voice, she asked, "Why is Miss Peversly our governess again, Father? We don't want her."

Before Victor could respond, Miss Peversly herself appeared, gliding into the room with a practiced curtsy. "Your Grace, I have spoken at length with Her Grace," she said, her tone smooth, almost too sweet. "The Duchess has entrusted me with the care of the children while she recovers. It is her wish that I resume my duties until she is well."

Victor blinked in surprise, trying to mask his reaction. Christina? Agreeing to this? It didn't make sense. She had made it abundantly clear that she found Miss Peversly unsuitable, so why would she suddenly change her mind? His mind raced as the governess continued.

"The Duchess believes this is in the children's best interest, and as such, she requested my return to their care. I only want what is best for your daughters, Your Grace."

Agnes stamped her foot, her voice a mix of desperation and frustration. "But we don't want her! Why doesn't anyone listen to us?" Her tears returned, full force, as she looked up at Victor with pleading eyes.

Miss Peversly remained composed, her tone as measured as before. "The child is simply upset because of the changes, Your Grace. With a little guidance, she will come to understand that I only wish to help."

Victor hesitated. Agnes' tearful protests tugged at his heart, but Miss Peversly's reasoning seemed… logical, on the surface. If Christina had indeed called for this, who was he to argue against her decision? She was their mother now, after all, and he trusted her judgement with the children.

Still, something about the situation gnawed at him.

He nodded slowly. "Very well. You may continue to care for the children." He turned to Agnes, his voice softening. "Go on, now, Agnes. Miss Peversly will take care of you."

Agnes's face crumpled, and with a sob, she turned and ran from the room, her small feet pounding down the hall.

Miss Peversly gave a curtsey, her voice oily with false concern. "Do not worry, Your Grace. I shall manage her," she said smoothly before gliding out of the room after the child.

Victor watched the door close, his body tense with conflicting emotions. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. What was happening? Why was Christina suddenly allowing Miss Peversly to return to their daughters' care when she had been so vehemently opposed to her before?

And why, why could he not stop thinking about Christina?

He sighed deeply, the weight of the day pressing down on him. She is supposed to be just a mother to my children, he reminded himself firmly.

But even as he repeated the words in his mind, they felt hollow. How could he keep pretending she was just a role in his household when every time he saw her, she filled his thoughts? He couldn't ignore the way his heart had leaped into his throat when she fell from the horse earlier today. It had been foolish to take her riding—he knew the risks, knew her impulsiveness, and yet, he had done it anyway.

And now look where it's gotten her , he scolded himself bitterly.

Victor clenched his jaw, the frustration mounting within him. His recklessness had hurt her, and worse still, he cared. He cared about her pain, her well-being, and that was dangerous. He had not married her to feel anything beyond the arrangement they had agreed upon. But his heart was betraying him at every turn.

No. He needed distance. He had to remind himself of why they had married in the first place—to give his daughters a mother, not to entangle himself in emotions he couldn't afford.

He couldn't allow her to become more than she was meant to be in his life.

Straightening, he moved to the door with determined steps, pulling it open and calling out into the hallway, "Smith!"

The butler appeared almost instantly, his face a calm mask of efficiency. "Your Grace?"

"Prepare the carriage," Victor ordered, his voice clipped. "I will be traveling."

Christina blinked her eyes open, momentarily disoriented as she gazed up at the intricately carved canopy of her bed. The familiar sensation of warmth beside her alerted her to Carrot's presence, curled up protectively at her side. The dull throb in her shoulder soon reminded her of her fall, and she winced as she carefully moved her arm, testing the limits of her pain. She attempted to rise but the discomfort was sharper than she anticipated.

"Are you feeling any better?" came a soft voice from beside her.

Turning her head, Christina found Annie and Kitty seated close by, their young faces lined with concern. Kitty smiled shyly, but it didn't hide the worry in her eyes.

"I am trying to ascertain that," Christina replied, offering them a small smile, though the effort of it was taxing. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Ten hours, Mother," Kitty said softly. Christina's heart skipped slightly at the address. She'd never tire of hearing it from them.

"Ten hours?" Christina's eyes widened. She tried to sit up but was met with a sharp reminder from her aching shoulder. With a slight grimace, she leaned back into the pillows, attempting to maintain her composure. "Did you dine?"

Kitty's expression clouded. "We did, but… Father left for London." She hesitated before adding in a quieter voice, "He reinstated Miss Peversly as our governess."

Christina's entire body stiffened. Reinstated her? She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Victor had reinstated Miss Peversly? A cold sensation swept through her chest, mingling with the lingering ache in her shoulder. She could barely contain the shock. "He left for London?" she asked, the words barely escaping through the tightness of her throat.

Kitty nodded, her gaze fixed on the coverlet as though she feared to meet Christina's eyes. "He left just after noon."

Christina's hands tightened into fists beneath the blanket. First, he returns the governess, then leaves the castle as though it is of no consequence? She willed herself to remain calm in front of the children, despite the fury bubbling beneath her calm exterior.

"Mother?" Kitty's voice trembled, and when Christina turned her gaze to her, she saw the child's uncertainty.

"What is it, dearest?" Christina asked gently, though her voice was lined with the turmoil of her emotions.

Kitty shifted uncomfortably before speaking. "Miss Peversly told Father that… that you had given her permission to take care of us."

Christina swallowed her indignation, schooling her features into a semblance of composure. Of course Miss Peversly would twist her words and present them in the worst light possible. She had anticipated this manipulation. Yet, she did not wish to alarm Kitty or her sisters, nor draw them into this conflict. "Yes, my dear, I did grant her permission—though only until I am well enough to manage things myself," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Your father is away, and I cannot be as present as I would like for the time being."

Kitty didn't look fully convinced, her brows drawing together in concern. "But… I don't trust her, Mother."

Christina's heart twisted at Kitty's distress. "Nor do I," she admitted quietly, taking her daughter's hand in hers. "But I shall not let her harm you, not now, not ever. This arrangement is temporary, I assure you."

Kitty studied her mother's face, her young eyes still full of uncertainty, but after a moment, she nodded, seemingly contented by the promise. "Cassidy, Amelia, and Agnes went to bed early," she said softly. "They were too upset after Father left."

Christina's heart sank. "Poor dears," she whispered. She was meant to be their protector, their comfort, and yet here she lay, incapacitated and unable to shield them from the one person they feared the most.

Forcing her thoughts away from her mounting frustration, she squeezed Kitty's hand gently. "I will be out of this bed soon, and Miss Peversly shall no longer be an issue."

Kitty nodded, though the crease in her brow remained. Christina watched as she rose from her chair and gave a soft curtsy before quietly slipping out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Christina exhaled sharply, the frustration she had suppressed finally spilling over.

Victor, what have you done? Leaving us when we need you!

Annie's frown deepened as she looked at Christina with wide, troubled eyes. "Why is the house in such disharmony, sister?" she asked, her voice low, as though she feared her question might stir further unrest.

Christina sighed, the weight of her situation pressing heavily upon her chest. She met Annie's gaze, her own heart aching for her sister's innocence, still so palpable despite everything. "The Duke seeks discipline, Annie, but his methods..." She paused, choosing her words with care. "They suppress the girls' spirits. He may not see it, but his approach will quash what makes them so full of life. It is not unlike how our parents tried to stifle you."

Annie lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. After a long pause, she spoke again, her voice soft. "Since I arrived at Kilton Castle, I have been happier than I have in years."

Christina's heart softened, a smile forming despite her own pain. She reached out, taking Annie's smaller one in hers, though careful not to strain her bruised shoulder. "That is precisely why I asked you here, dearest. I wanted you to feel the freedom you deserve."

Annie's smile wavered, giving way to a flicker of concern. "But with Miss Peversly back in charge... will things not return to how they were? Kitty told me everything about her."

"No," she said, "I will not allow it. This is my household too, and no one—least of all Miss Peversly—will diminish my role here."

Annie's brows furrowed in quiet confusion. "But how will you manage, with His Grace still supporting her?"

Christina pressed her lips into a thin line, her determination sharpening. Carefully, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, mindful of her injured shoulder. Annie moved to assist, but Christina held up a hand, nodding her gratitude. She would rise on her own. Wincing, she gingerly pushed herself upright, every movement deliberate to avoid further pain.

"I will manage," she said softly, but with a conviction that left no room for doubt. "I made a vow the day I married the Duke, Annie. These girls are my daughters now, and I shall do what is necessary to ensure they are happy and cared for."

Annie watched her. "What will you do, Christina?"

"I shall get dressed and take care of my home," Christina replied, reaching for the bellpull by the bed. Her movements, though slow, were purposeful. The Duke can do as he pleases, but I have my duties.