‘Oh? I will try that, then.’ Hattie removed her wrap and gently scooped up the duckling, humming to it as she slowly nestled it to her chest. Its tiny orange-webbed feet pushed against herchest with an urgent flutter until it decided to trust her and settled, releasing one final plaintive squeak. The poor thing didn’t know what she was about. Millie let go of her father’s leg and approached Hattie. Gently, she ran her hand over the tiny duckling who chirped at the girl’s touch. Millie laughed with glee and Hattie did, too.
She glanced up to find His Grace frowning at her, so she flattened her smile. ‘Let us bring her back to her mother. Will you lead the way, Lady Millie?’
The girl nodded, ran back to clasp her father’s hand and His Grace reset his features to a smile as if his daughter’s touch had yanked him back to the present far from his thoughts, wherever they had been. Hattie walked slowly behind them. Why had he frowned at her so? All she was doing was saving a little helpless duckling. Just when she thought she might be beginning to understand him, she was thrust back into confusion. Perhaps he was simply not a morning person as she was. She shrugged and focused on murmuring to the wee duckling to keep it from jumping out of her arms and injuring itself.
After they reached the mother and her brood, Hattie slowly set down the duckling, which scurried back to its mother and siblings. A flourish of what Hattie assumed were happy greetings between them sounded, filling the area with quacks. She smiled and Millie squealed in delight.
‘I do not know much about ducks, but they seem happy now,’ Hattie said. ‘Where is the father? Out gathering food for the brood?’ She looked around the lake in concern. ‘Or did something happen to him?’ she added, dropping her voice low, so Millie might not hear.
‘No,’ His Grace replied. ‘Drakes, the male ducks, don’t stay after the ducklings are born. They leave. No doubt the father is long gone and on the hunt for another hen.’
For some reason, Miss Potts’s upbeat demeanour fell at the mention of drakes and a flush coloured her neck. She had askedhimthe question. All he had done was simply answer. The three of them stood watching the happy reunion until Miss Potts fractured the simple revelry and fell into an awkward silence. He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and tried to piece together what exactly he’d said to offend her and ruin her fine mood.
‘I think I shall return, Your Grace,’ Miss Potts said, rubbing her arms. ‘I am chilled. But thank you and Millie kindly for your help in reuniting that little duckling with its family.’ She looked everywhere but his face. What had he said?
‘Would you like my jacket to warm yourself?’ he offered without thinking, shrugging off his coat and holding it out to place about her shoulders.
‘No, thank you,’ she replied, shifting away from him. She wrapped her arms around her middle, avoiding his gaze. ‘I will be indoors soon enough.’ A soft blush filled her cheeks, making her look quite…enchanting. He frowned and looked away. He had no need to notice anything about her. The fact that he did was rather irritating. What had begun as a joyful morning walk was turning into something rather odd. He had no idea what to make of it.
‘I hope you and Millie enjoy the rest of your walk. Thank you again for your help, Lady Millie,’ she said to his daughter and smiled before nodding to him and heading back to the Manor alone. He watched her disappear over the small bank and soon she was far off in the distance and their morning duckling rescue was over. Millie tugged his hand and pointed back to the Manor.
‘Hungry?’ he asked.
She smiled and nodded.
‘What shall we have this morning?’ he mused as they walked hand in hand, beginning the fun game of guessing what Millie wished for today.
‘Cooked oats?’ he offered.
His daughter scrunched up her face and he chuckled.
‘I thought not. Sausages and blood pudding?’ he asked, knowing full well her answer.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head.
‘Of course not. Perhaps some scones and jam?’ he asked.
She smiled and nodded.
‘Then, scones and jam it is.’
Far too soon, they were indoors and entered the drawing room. They ate their first meal of the day far earlier than most in theton, as William preferred dining earlier rather than later. The sideboard was filled to the brim with its usual grand fare before half past eight. Mrs Chisholm had the cook prepare the usual feast his parents had always enjoyed. She refused to prepare less despite his objections. Like most housekeepers, she believed food would heal their grief faster. He smiled at her efforts, despite knowing food had provided no healing power for him and little Millie just yet.
The sound of Miss Potts’s footsteps at the other end of the hallway towards the door to the servants’ entrance reminded him he had forgotten to invite her to dine with him and Millie. No doubt she had planned to eat below stairs. He called out to her, ‘Miss Potts, please do join us.’ He needed to smooth over whatever had upset her and he also needed her to spend more time with Millie. Them dining together would serve both purposes well.
She stopped and turned. A slight blush still warmed her cheeks. She walked over to him with a timid smile. ‘My apologies, Your Grace. I did not think dining with you would be…’
‘Appropriate?’ he offered, nesting his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘No doubt it isn’t in Society, but you may have noticed our household here is a bit more…unconventional. If you would consider joining us for our meals, I think it would help Millie get to know you and feel more comfortable sooner. Would you have any objection?’ He shifted on his feet. He had no idea what he would do if she refused.
To his relief, she nodded. ‘I had not thought of that. Of course, Your Grace.’ Her gaze drifted past his shoulder to the drawing room and she lowered her voice. ‘I want to do everything I can to help her.’
And the way she said the words made him believe her down to his bones. It was a feeling he had not had in some time: trust mixed with hope. The woman made him hopeful. Unable to say anything else, he nodded and gestured for her to go through to join his daughter in breaking their fast.
He followed her in and began filling his plate, while Miss Potts stood holding an empty dish, studying her options.
He crinkled his brow. ‘If there is nothing to your liking, Miss Potts, I am sure the cook can prepare you something else?’
She started and turned to him, another flush of colour on her cheeks. ‘No, Your Grace. It is quite the opposite. There are so many delightful options that I do not know which to pick.’ She smiled and he was pleased that her good humour had returned and that, unlike the late Marchioness, Miss Potts was quick to recover from upset.
