Chapter 8

Eight

C hristina eyed Miss Peversly from across the drawing room, her gaze steady and appraising. The governess was instructing Katherine in the art of embroidery, while Christina sat at leisure with Addison, sipping her tea.

Miss Peversly's eyes suddenly met hers. The governess smiled coldly and remarked, "Embroidery is such a precious talent that many ladies seem to lack."

Christina's eyes narrowed slightly. Setting her teacup down with deliberate grace, she met the governess's gaze head-on. "And how, pray tell, did you arrive at such a conclusion, Miss Peversly?" she inquired, her tone polite yet edged with steel.

The governess smiled again, a thin, condescending one. "I have never seen Your Grace embroider."

Christina leaned back on the sofa adjusting the folds of her dress with a calm, deliberate motion. "Miss Peversly, while embroidery is indeed a fine accomplishment, it is not the sole measure of a lady's worth or abilities. I have been otherwise occupied with duties of immediate importance, but rest assured, I am more than capable should I choose to engage in such pastimes."

Miss Peversly's smile faltered, and she had no response. She turned back to Katherine with a tight-lipped expression, resuming their embroidery lesson in silence.

Katherine looked up and asked innocently, "Miss Peversly, why do you look so offended?"

The governess snapped, "Return to your task, my lady." She then stood, the sudden movement disturbing the sewing items about their feet. Her stiff black dress swished behind her as she made for the door.

Christina watched her go, satisfaction and curiosity brewing within her. She turned back to Addison and Katherine, who were exchanging amused glances.

Addison leaned closer to Katherine and asked, "Is the governess in mourning? I have never known a governess to be garbed in black at all times."

Katherine grinned and set down her embroidery hoop, moving to sit beside Christina. "When Miss Peversly first arrived, she wore a lovely green dress, and her hair was styled with curls framing her face. But as the days passed, she began wearing darker colors until all she wore was black. Her hair changed too, to that very stiff knot."

Christina pondered this change, her fingers idly tracing the delicate porcelain of her teacup. What could have prompted such a transformation in Miss Peversly in so short a time?

Addison, as though noticing Christina's contemplative expression, voiced the question that was on both their minds. "What could have caused such a transformation?"

Katherine shook her head, her youthful face crinkling in thought. "I do not know."

Christina decided then and there that she would uncover the truth behind Miss Peversly's change. After all, she didn't trust the governess. There was something unsettling about her.

Agnes walked into the drawing room with Carrot trailing behind her, his orange fur standing out against the muted colors of the room. She stopped in front of Christina and sighed dolefully.

"What is the matter, dear?" Christina asked.

Agnes's lower lip trembled. "We have been in the house for four days since Father returned."

Katherine added, "Miss Peversly doesn't even allow us the half-hour walk."

Christina felt her eyes narrow. She had not interfered in their walks because of Kilton, trusting the governess would follow his instructions. Now, she boiled inside with frustration. Setting down her teacup, she rose from her seat.

Agnes looked up at her, wide-eyed. "Where are you going?"

Katherine encouraged, "speak to Miss Peversly about the walks she denies us."

Christina gave a determined nod. "I am going to see your father."

Half an hour later, she was knocking on the library door where he had been sequestering himself since his return, practically turning it into his study.

"Who is it?" came his voice.

"It is I," she answered.

A short moment passed before he opened the door. She smiled at him, and he quirked a dark eyebrow. "If this is your way to get a smile out of me, you are wasting your flattery."

She retorted, "I do not recall flattering you."

He stepped aside, allowing her to enter. "Bringing me treats and smiling sweetly is flattery."

Christina walked into the library with the tray and found a place for it on a table at the center of the sitting area in front of the fireplace. She turned to face him. "I brought you luncheon, not treats, because I noticed you did not join the girls and me for the meal."

His expression softened immediately, and he closed the door. Just before it shut, however, Christina caught sight of Carrot slipping into the room. She remained quiet about it, hoping the cat would find a corner and rest instead of causing mischief.

Kilton crossed the room to join her. He regarded the contents of the tray—a delicious cold repast of ham, cheese, freshly baked bread, and a selection of fruits—and then looked at her with an odd gleam in his eyes, as if appraising her anew, determining she was no longer a danger to him and his children.

"Thank you for bringing the meal to me," he said, adding, "it is thoughtful of you." He sat in a chair while she lowered herself into an adjacent sofa.

Christina, never able to keep her mouth shut, playfully asked, "do you still deem me a hellion?"

He placed a slice of ham and cheese on some bread and took a bite, taking his time to chew before swallowing. "You are still a nightmare."

She teased, "why don't you awaken, then?"

"I have no choice but to remain in this slumber," he replied, reaching for another slice of ham. Just as he was about to raise it to his mouth, a soft mew broke the moment. Kilton tensed, his hand freezing midair. He looked down to see Carrot longingly eyeing the ham in his hand.

The Duke shot an accusing look at Christina. "What is this beast doing in the library?"

Christina glanced down at Carrot, who was licking his lips. "Look at him. He is hardly a beast."

Kilton asked again, "how did the creature enter the library?"

She shrugged. "I certainly did not carry him on the tray."

Kilton ignored her and raised the ham to his mouth once more, muttering something under his breath. Carrot continued to stare at him, his eyes wide and imploring.

Christina smiled and said, "you will never be free until you allow Carrot to partake of your meal."

The Duke sighed, looking down at the cat with his brows furrowed. Kilton grumbled, "what manner of entrapment is this where I cannot even eat in my own home?"

Christina pointed out, "you are the one holding the food, not Carrot."

With a sigh of resignation, he tore a piece of ham and gave it to the kitten. Carrot devoured it with eager enthusiasm, growling softly. Kilton managed a single bite of his own before Carrot's second demand came. He tossed the remainder of the ham to the insistent kitten and reached for another slice.

Christina seized the moment. "Your Grace, I did not come here only to bring you your meal. I wish to appeal on behalf of the children."

He tilted his head, his expression inviting her to continue.

"The children are bored, and remaining indoors does not benefit them," she explained, her tone measured.

"It does benefit them," he countered, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Miss Peversly has reported their improvement. Cassidy is excelling in arithmetic, Katherine's skills with the needle are commendable, and Agnes is progressing in her reading."

"And Amelia?" Christina asked, her brow furrowing as she recalled the sadness in the girls' eyes.

He paused, taking a deliberate bite and chewing. "I have no report about Amelia."

Christina took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. "Are you aware that they are not even allowed to take the half-hour walks you permitted them to?"

Kilton's eyes narrowed. "I am certain Miss Peversly has a good reason for not allowing them."

Miss Peversly is not to be trusted! Christina was silent for a moment, then spoke, her voice low but insistent. "If you were confined to this library—" He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she held up a hand, forestalling him. "Against your will for months, unable to step out into the hallway, what would you do?"

He looked at her, his expression softening ever so slightly. "You have a rather good point. What do you propose to lift the children's spirits without excess? I cannot afford to disrupt the fragile peace we have achieved."

Christina brightened with hope. "We could organize a picnic for them."

Kilton shook his head. "It will excite them too much."

"It will not," she argued, her tone earnest. "You can join us to ensure the situation remains under control."

He considered her words, his gaze steady. "Very well, but the picnic shall be held in the garden."

Christina smiled warmly. "There is an oak tree that provides perfect shade."

At that moment, Carrot pawed at his boot, and without thinking, Kilton tossed him another slice of ham, which the kitten devoured eagerly.

Christina watched this interaction, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest. She could see now that Kilton was not as unfeeling as she had initially thought.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before she could answer, Carrot jumped onto her lap. Kilton observed the scene with a bemused expression. "Did you choose the cat because you look alike?"

Christina chuckled, shaking her head. "I found him in a tree when he was younger and rescued him. I decided to give him a home. It is fate that brought us together."

Kilton took another bite, his gaze shifting between her and the cat. "You did not sprain your ankle rescuing a child from a horse in London, did you?"

She slowly shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. "No, I was rescuing Carrot from a tree again."

He gave her an incredulous look but said nothing, returning to his meal and selecting a few strawberries. Christina waited a moment, stroking the kitten's fur as he purred contentedly.

"I did not know my father would lie to you," she said softly. "I regret it deeply."

He sighed, his demeanor softening. "It has already happened. Like you and Carrot, fate brought us together. All I wanted, and still want, is a mother for my children. They deserve someone strong and with a good heart after all they have endured."

Christina recalled that Katherine and Cassidy were orphans. She hesitated, then asked, "How did the late Duchess…?" She trailed off, unsure if the question was appropriate.

Kilton surprised her by answering, "She succumbed to a strange fever."

Christina muttered her condolences, wondering if he had loved his late wife—if he was capable of loving anyone. His gaze grew distant as he spoke again.

"She was cold and unfeeling toward the children," he said quietly.

"Oh, poor dears," Christina whispered. No wonder they were unruly. All they wanted was affection. She could give them that at least, and she vowed not to let them down.

"Our marriage was arranged," he continued, his voice touched with melancholy. "There was no affection, not even friendship. We were strangers living under the same roof."

"Do you intend to live with me in such a manner?"

Kilton's eyes flicked to hers, and the silence stretched between them before he answered. "Your role is to be a mother to my children." His tone was as distant as ever. "That is all I ask of you."

Christina felt a weight settle in her stomach, an inexplicable sense of foreboding about their future together enveloping her.