During the week he had spent coming and going, helping with the funeral arrangements, he had made it a habit to visit the nursery at least once a day. The nurse had been flustered the first time he had shown up in her domain, but he had explained that the duke had made him guardian of the child, and he wanted to check on his ward. The duchess had given her approval. If the young nurse found this strange, she kept her opinion to herself.
He treasured these moments. Moments that any other father could take for granted but were precious to him. And some days, the only thing that helped him deal with his sorrow over the duke’s passing was holding his son in his arms. He had not expected to feel such a degree of grief and didn’t know how to manage it. But while holding little Sam, he felt somewhat connected to the old man.
He had left the baby sleeping over an hour ago. Now, he hung back in the shadows, waiting for all the mourners to leave the house. There were so bloody many of them. He waited, impatient. Not for his sake, but for Hannah. She was exhausted. Hanging by a thread. Couldn’t people see that? She was never less than beautiful, more dear to him than the blood in his veins, but the shadows under her red-rimmed eyes, her pale complexion, her stooping shoulders... They were signs of fatigue and grief that made him long to take her in his arms, carry her tothe farthest bedchamber, lay her on a soft bed, and hold her until she fell asleep in his arms.
Quite a stir that would cause. So he waited, gritting his teeth, as the interminable line of people insisted on going on with parting words. She listened to all of them, accepting their condolences with grace. Never once showing by word or manner how at the end of her line she was. She would collapse before being any less than a gracious host. A perfect duchess.
At long last, the remaining mourners departed, and she turned, heaving a sigh. He walked out of the corner where he had been standing unobtrusively. Her gasp of surprise told him she had not been aware he had been there this whole time.
“Duchess.” He bowed. “May I have a moment of your time?” he asked, coming to her.
“Ga—Brentworth. I-I didn’t know you were still here.” Her eyes darted around like those of a hunted creature. No doubt waiting for someone to jump out of the woodwork and overhear them.
“I couldn’t leave without having a word with you. But now you are exhausted. You need to rest, Hannah.”
“Shh. Don’t call me by my given name here!” She looked around again. “Let’s go to the drawing room. But I don’t have much time. I need to go check on the baby. It’s almost time...”
She trailed off, but he knew what she was about to say. It was almost time for the baby’s feeding. He had ferreted out the information. It hadn’t been difficult to do since it was the talk in the servants’ quarters. The duchess was nursing the baby herself instead of using a wet nurse. It was almost unheard of among the aristocracy. She was such a wonderful mother, and he loved her all the more for that.
“I know. This won’t take long.”
He led her to the drawing room, where he had arranged for tea to be served. The tea arrived promptly, and when she made the move to serve it, he beat her to it.
“I will do the honors, if you’ll permit me.”
“It’s a hostess’s duty...”
“You’ve had enough duties for the day. Allow me.”
It was a sign of how tired she was that she didn’t protest more. He prepared her a cup, making sure it was the way she liked it, generous with the milk and one teaspoon of sugar. He then put a couple of sandwiches on a plate and brought them to her with the cup of tea.
She gave him a faint smile. “You spoil me.”
“Someone needs to.”
She took a sip of the bracing hot beverage, closed her eyes, and sighed in bliss. “Just the way I like it.”
“I know.”
“You are a man of many talents.”
“You should know that already.”
Her eyes opened slowly, and she smiled at him. A concession. “I do.” As their gazes connected, something passed between them that they quickly suppressed. She took another sip, a larger one this time. “You wanted to speak to me?”
The words he needed to say were burning his throat, wanting to explode out of his chest. But this was not the time. She was fairly falling asleep, and he needed her awake and alert for this conversation. It was too important.
“It will keep. Finish your tea, then you should rest.”
“Can’t. Need to feed Sammy.” But she obeyed and finished her tea while she nibbled the sandwich.
“I checked on little Sam about an hour ago. He was sleeping. He will be fine for a little while longer in the care of his nurse.”
He stood and sat beside her on the sofa, threw an arm around her shoulders, and gathered her against his chest. “You should sleep too,” he ordered.
“This is most improper,” she protested, but he felt gratified that she didn’t pull away.
“We are way past that.”
