Chapter 9

Nine

"H ere, Cassidy!" Amelia cried, her voice full of excitement as she darted away.

"You shall never catch me!" Agnes taunted, her laughter ringing through the garden as she skipped out of Cassidy's reach.

Cassidy, blindfolded, stumbled about with her arms outstretched, seeking her sisters who fled from her, giggling and calling out teasingly. Carrot followed them cheerfully, his tail twitching with excitement.

Katherine clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling with joy. "You almost got me, Cassidy!"

Under the grand oak tree, Christina sat with Addison on a blanket, a delightful spread of sandwiches, fruits, and pastries around them. The sprawling branches provided a welcome shade, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a soothing canopy. A warm smile played on her lips as she observed their joy.

Addison sighed contentedly beside her. "It is wonderful to see the young ladies out in the sunshine, Your Grace."

Christina smiled and sipped her lemonade. "Indeed, Addison. They needed this, and they have earned it."

Addison looked at her closely. "Are you happy, Your Grace?"

Christina nodded quietly, but the gesture lacked conviction. Addison turned her attention back to the children, but Christina's smile faded. Her heart yearned for something more. To be accepted as she was, to feel genuine affection.

Cassidy finally managed to touch Amelia, who squealed in delight. "You got me!"

The game continued with joyful shouts, but Christina's thoughts drifted. She longed for the day when she would be more than just a dutiful wife and a caring stepmother, and she recalled how she dreamed of marriage when she was a debutante; to have a husband who saw her for who she was and embraced her fully.

Katherine came over, breathless from playing. "Your Grace, are you not going to join us?"

Christina forced a bright smile. "Perhaps later, Katherine. For now, I am content to watch you all enjoy yourselves."

Katherine nodded, returning to the game with renewed energy. Addison gently patted her hand. "You are doing a splendid job with them, Your Grace."

Christina appreciated the kindness but couldn't shake the hollow feeling inside. She watched the girls play, their laughter ringing out like music, and silently hoped that one day, she would find the happiness and acceptance she so desperately craved.

Addison's voice broke the silence that had settled over her. "Your Grace, when is Lady Annabelle to arrive?"

"In two days, according to the letter I received yesterday. I am quite excited and truly hope that her time here will revive her spirits."

Addison chuckled. "I dare say your parents will scarcely recognize her when she returns to them."

Christina laughed but quickly grew somber. "I am afraid they might send her to Mrs. Darlington-Whit's Seminary."

Addison shuddered. "I have heard dreadful things about that place."

Christina nodded, her expression serious. "It is a center of snobbery, filled with arrogant ladies and even more arrogant tutors. They expect perfection and impossible achievements. Surviving there is worse than navigating the French court. The pressure to conform is relentless, and the atmosphere is oppressive. It is a wonder anyone emerges unscathed."

Addison grimaced. "It sounds horrid. No wonder you detest it so."

Christina chuckled ruefully. "Yet my father is proud he sent me there."

A sudden squeal drew Christina's attention, and she looked up to see Agnes's dress covered in mud. Cassidy's dress was similarly soiled.

"Where did you find mud in the garden?" Christina asked.

The girls pointed at a small puddle near a hedge, a remnant of the rain from the night before.

Christina was about to suggest the girls go inside to change when Agnes gasped, her eyes widening as she looked over Christina's shoulder. Turning, Christina saw the governess marching toward them, her expression dark and ominous.

Miss Peversly did not wait to reach them before she began scolding. "What is the meaning of this disgrace? Look at the state of you, Agnes, Cassidy! Mud all over your dresses! Have you no sense?"

Christina felt frustration bubbling within her. She stood and attempted to draw the governess aside by the elbow. "Miss Peversly, the Duke is aware of this picnic?—"

Miss Peversly shoved her shoulder hard, causing Christina to stumble backward a little. Shocked, Christina demanded, "Why would you do such a thing?"

Miss Peversly glared at her. "Stop behaving as if you are truly the mistress of this castle because you do not deserve that title!"

It took immeasurable effort for Christina not to respond in kind. She reminded herself that she needed to be a good woman and a role model for the girls. "We will continue this conversation in private, Miss Peversly," she said calmly, before turning to the children. "Girls, let us go inside and get you clean."

"What is going on here?" a stormy voice boomed across the garden. Christina turned to see Kilton marching toward them, his expression dark and thunderous.

She immediately thought he was here to disapprove of the girls getting mud on themselves. "Your Grace, I can explain?—"

He cut her off, his eyes locked onto the governess. "Who do you think you are to lay a hand on a duchess of the realm? On my wife!"

It was the first time Christina had heard him refer to her as his wife and not simply the Duchess. Something swirled in her heart at his words. Kilton stood closer to Christina, as if shielding her with his body. Could it be that he considered her a part of his family? His eyes were stormy, and his hands were clenched into fists.

The governess stammered, her face paling. "Your Grace, I was merely?—"

"Explain yourself," he demanded, his voice ice-cold.

Miss Peversly's voice wavered. "I-I was only trying to maintain discipline, Your Grace."

He glared at her, unyielding. "You are unfit to work here. Make arrangements for a new position. I will allow you to stay until that is done, but do not take advantage of my good will."

Christina thought allowing Miss Peversly to stay a minute longer in the castle was a mistake but decided not to argue with her husband, choosing to trust his judgment. The governess curtsied, her face pale and expressionless, before leaving.

Addison ushered the girls inside, and Kilton turned to Christina. "Are you well?"

She nodded, warmth spreading within her. "I am fine, thank you for helping me."

Their eyes held, a current passing between them. He said, "it is my duty to defend my family."

She felt herself leaning a little closer to him, and he did the same. Her heart raced when his gaze seemed to move to her lips. But then he blinked, as though checking himself, and straightened.

"How did you know what was happening?" she asked, curious.

"I have been watching the picnic from my study," he revealed.

"So you did join us in spirit, at least?" she teased.

"I was merely observing to ensure everything was in order."

"Ah, the ever-vigilant guardian," she replied, her tone light.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flaring slightly. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Well, you did just come to my rescue," she said. "Perhaps there is a chivalrous heart beneath that stern exterior."

He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense. "Perhaps there is more to me than meets the eye, Duchess."

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "And perhaps there is more to me as well, Duke."

Kilton offered his arm to her. "Shall we return to the castle?"

She took his arm, feeling a surprising warmth in his gesture. "Yes."

As they walked back toward the castle, Christina felt a sense of newfound connection with Kilton. Despite the tension and the confrontation, there was a spark of something more—something that hinted at the possibility of genuine understanding between them.

Feeling calmer after dinner, Victor decided to check on his wife to ensure she was well. He knocked on her door, and it did not take long for her to open it.

He sucked in his breath when he saw her standing there, her curly red hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back in disarray, her bright green eyes captivating, and the white robe she had over her nightdress almost angelic. She looked surprised to see him.

"Duke," she began, "is everything all right?"

"I came to ensure you are well," he said. She stepped aside and invited him into the bedchamber.

Victor hesitated. "I don't bite," he teased.

"That is not what I am concerned about," he replied absently, his eyes taking in the room. He observed how she had made the chamber her own with more declarations—a new painting and a ballerina figurine on the fireplace mantle. He walked over to the mantle and picked up the figurine.

"This is lovely," he said. "Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift from my sister," Christina replied. "I have always wanted to learn how to dance ballet, but it is not proper for ladies."

"Can you dance?" he asked, intrigued despite himself.

"You will have to take me to a ball to find out," she teased.

"That is not going to happen," he replied, his tone flat.

"I have seen you at balls," she mentioned.

"I detest the events. I only attended because I was looking for a wife," he said, glancing around the room again. His eyes narrowed when he saw Agnes's favorite doll, Margaret, on the bed. He felt his body tense.

"What is that doll doing in your room?" he asked sharply. "It's Agnes'!"

After the words left his mouth, he flinched at how accusing he sounded. He saw the effect his tone had on the Duchess as she took a cautious step back. She walked to the bed and picked up the doll.

"Agnes gave it to me the night we arrived at the castle so it could keep me company while you were away," she explained gently.

Victor looked at her intently, wondering if she felt lonely. He dismissed the thought immediately and mumbled, "I apologize for my hasty accusation."

They sat in front of the fireplace, and Victor spoke again. "Agnes never slept without that doll, especially after her mother died."

The Duchess—Christina—frowned. "Did Agnes miss her mother, even though she was never shown affection?"

He nodded. "Agnes was four at the time. She yearned to be in her mother's company but was always turned away. She also witnessed how the fever ravaged her mother before she died."

"Oh, the poor little one," Christina expressed, and Victor saw genuine care in her eyes. He began to think that perhaps this marriage was not as unfortunate as he had earlier assumed.

Christina then asked, "will you give me the liberty of choosing the girls' next governess?"

He contemplated for a moment, measuring her capability. He saw her determination and care. "You may take part in the decision making, but I have the final say."

Christina looked as though she wanted to ask him for more, but she instead murmured, "thank you, Duke."

She then grew serious. "I know that having daughter as spirited as them might be tiring, but please promise me something. No matter what, please never consider sending them to a finishing school."

"Didn't your parents send you to Mrs. Darlington-Whit's Seminary?"

"Yes, and I was miserable. They were afraid I would grow up a disgrace and sought to prevent that before it happened. They would rather die than have me embarrass them in front of the ton ," Christina explained.

Victor's expression softened with understanding. "That does sound like a rather desolate experience."

"It was..." she admitted, momentarily lost in her memories. "I remember I would spend hours sneaking off and hiding away to get some moments of peace."

"I am surprised it was enough to entertain you," Victor said and sat down next to her on the bed, her familiar scent enveloping him.

When did her scent become familiar?

"Oh, it was not. But I was lucky the seminary had a very extensive library that they didn't bother to properly screen. There was this collection of adventure books about discovering new and forgotten lands all around the world," she said, a wistful look in her eyes. "It was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind."

Victor tensed at the mention of the books but did not let it show. "What was the title of the collection?" he asked, maintaining his composure.

"It was called ‘The Voyages of the Intrepid Explorers,'" she said, smiling at the memory.

Victor's jaw clenched immediately, and he felt one of his hands curl into a fist on his lap. Had he heard her correctly. Her next words confirmed that he had.

"Such wonders I read about." Her eyes gleamed as she spoke, the firelight shining in them, reflecting a passion he dreaded. "How I wish I could travel." She turned her gaze back to him. "Do you not wish you could see what lies beyond England?"

Victor swallowed, and his chest tightened. "No, I do not," he managed to let out, the chamber suddenly feeling very small. He stood. "Good night, Duchess."

Christina's brows furrowed, and she stood. Victor did not give her the chance to speak before he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.