He wondered if the child referred to the time period before Pippa’s discovery of her husband’s secrets or after.
“I am not sad,” Pippa corrected coolly, sending him a sidelong glance that plainly suggested any further inquiries on his part concerning that subject would not be welcome. “I smile often, Char-char.”
Her daughter did not appear nearly as convinced. “Mama frown.”
Roland felt the interloper quite distinctly in that moment, all too aware that he was an unexpected guest—mayhap even an unwanted guest—in another man’s home. A dead man, it was true. But also holding court with that dead man’s wife and daughter. If someone had told him, even a year before, that he would be engaging in this dialogue, in this moment, with Pippa Shaw and her daughter, he would not have believed it.
Yet, here he was.
Heretheywere, exiting the townhome and wandering into the small, walled gardens adjoining the edifice. Almost a family.
This was the family he had always yearned for.
Not his. Not yet.
Now to persuade Pippa that she ought to accept his proposal of marriage. However he could. There was no other option.
* * *
Pippa releasedher tight hold on her daughter’s hand and watched her excitedly walking away in search of butterflies and pebbles, as Charlotte had informed both her and Northwich a mere moment ago. Now, Pippa stood beside Northwich, careful to keep a polite distance between them, far enough away that his scent only occasionally reached her on the slight breeze.
So tempting.
So distracting.
Much like the man himself.
Not even the steady, dull ache in her skull could distract her from the attraction which had neither faded nor waned in all the years they had spent apart. The Duke of Northwich was a handsome man. But he was also a magnificent presence. Strong and tall and broad, muscular, and yet he had a way of looking at her…there was an intensity in his gaze that reached her deeply.
“Your daughter says you are sad,” Northwich said into the silence that had descended in the absence of her garrulous little poppet. “Why?”
Pippa sighed. “She is a child.”
“Children are observant,” he returned. “They often note the subtle details which the adults around them dismiss or fail to see.”
And how right he was. Why did he have to be so perceptive, so considerate, so caring, so kind? It heightened the guilt she felt at the prospect of Northwich having been the victim of George just as everyone else had. While she was not entirely ready to give the duke her complete trust, it became increasingly clearer by the day that the only true deceiver and manipulator in her life had been George. But she did not know if she was prepared to face what her acceptance of that would mean. Her aching head did not feel especially equipped to take on such an onerous task at the moment.
And her heart… Well, her heart was in similarly raw shape.
“I have many burdens on my heart and mind,” she acknowledged to Roland, watching as Charlotte scooped up a pebble and tossed it into the fountain with perfect aim. “Losing one’s husband is not easy. Uncovering despicable truths about one’s husband, however, is equally painful. Worrying over the miscreants who seem determined to tear my home apart from ground floor to attics does not please me either.”
“Char-char make a wish!” Charlotte announced, then dipped into a perfect curtsy.
Croydon would have approved of her form, if nothing else.
“Bravo, poppet,” Pippa called, grateful for the distraction.
Northwich applauded. “Excellent aim, Char-char. Now you must make a wish.”
His use of Charlotte’s diminutive for herself, coupled with his nearness and the simplicity of the moment—the three of them in the gardens together—felt intimate in a new and different way. She was still considering his proposal. Mostly because she was fearful of what might happen to Charlotte.
But this morning, this moment, with Northwich at her side, seemed somehow surreal.
Charlotte closed her eyes and made an elaborate show of thinking of her wish.
“You must not say it aloud,” the duke cautioned. “If you do, it will not come true.”
Charlotte’s eyes popped open once more. “Come true?”
