Eliza nodded, her own face bright with curiosity. “It’s a lovely sound, Your Grace.”
Harriet approached, reaching out to take Catherine from Simon’s arms. “What did you do to make her laugh?”
Simon hesitated, not wanting to admit that his grumbling had inadvertently amused the baby. He gently handed Catherine back to Harriet, clearing his throat. “I’m not entirely sure. She just... started laughing.”
“Just started laughing?” Harriet asked, not convinced in the slightest.
Perhaps she found my predicament endearing.
“Is that so hard for you to believe, Duchess?” Simon asked instead, raising an eyebrow.
Harriet shot him a look, as she handed Catherine to Eliza. “Please make sure that you only use towels soaked in lukewarm water for her bath,” she instructed before gesturing to the duke to follow her out of the room.
“You must forgive me, Simon. I intend not to cast doubts about your ability to make her laugh. Just that…” she bit down on her lip, “I do not think I’ve ever been able to make her laugh in this manner, and nor have any of the maids. And believe me, it is not from a lack of trying.”
“Did you ever consider that perhaps she just likes me?” Simon said, an air of smugness now replacing his confusion.
“Surely she cannot like you more than she does me,” Harriet sparred.
“Perhaps you need to reconsider that delusion,” Simon replied.
“Absolutely not.”
At that moment, they were bickering again like children. All over the affections of this strange baby that had just parceled itself into their lives.
Simon realized that it was similar to when parents fought amongst each other — each trying to win the crown for who their child loved the most.
The thought… unsettled him, and he sobered up considerably quickly, clearing his throat.
“Is she going to be bathed now?” he asked, broaching a practical topic instead.
Harriet nodded. “She is. I have committed all the tips my sister, Esther, gave me to memory. Frequent bathing is one of them.”
“I see,” Simon nodded. “You seem to have learnt a great deal about childcare since the first day that she arrived here.”
“I do not believe I have another choice,” Harriet sighed. “I cannot just leave her at the mercy of the maids. She might not be my own child, but my conscience does not allow me to let her be anything but extremely comfortable here.”
Simon thought back to his brother — he was nowhere to be found when he went looking for him today. And even though they had a lead for him at the cockfight, there was no certainty that they would actually find him there, much less him admitting to the baby being his.
What if then… then they would have to care for the baby for much longer than initially expected? What if they had to adopt her into their family?
The encounter with Catherine had been unexpected, yet strangely fulfilling. The baby’s laughter had been a balm to his frayed nerves, and the warmth of the moment lingered with him.
Perhaps it would not besobad, he thought to himself.
The realization that he had enjoyed the interaction with Catherine was both surprising and oddly comforting. He had never considered himself particularly adept with children.
“What are you thinking about?” Harriet asked, catching him off guard.
“Must you always know everything?”
Harriet shot him a look. “Must you keep things private always? I know that you wrote to me once during the year that you were away, but now that you are here, perhaps you can start sharing your thoughts more with me.”
Simon raised an eyebrow, amused by her antics and only slightly irked. It seemed that she had taken his advice from earlier very seriously.
“And why would I ever dream of doing that?”
“You said yourself,” Harriet shrugged, “I am to behave in a manner that is befitting for a duchess. Well, I believe that I am well within my bounds to demand that my husband shares his thoughts with me.”
