Lena looked away in confusion and concentrated on her soup.
Theo said, “It is good! His Grace cooks better than Mama.”
After supper, the Duke approached Lena in the kitchen as she dried the last bowl and put it away. “I would like to have a private word with you.”
She dried her fingers on her apron. “Now?”
“If you please.”
“Let us step outside for a walk, then,” she said as she removed her apron. “The evenings have been mild, and it is not yet dark.” She fetched her shawl and her bonnet and joined the Duke, who was waiting for her at the gate.
He offered her his arm, and after some hesitation, she took it.
They walkedin silence along the riverbank.
“This is where the kite got entangled in the branches,” the Duke said, pointing to a tree by the river.
“That’s a huge tree! It’s a wonder you didn’t break any bones.”
“Thanks to the boys’ quick and creative thinking, I did not.”
They walked on in silence, and Lena became acutely aware of him—the smell of his cologne, the heat he radiated.
She turned her head. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?”
“Yes.” He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “A dispatch has arrived from England, along with some private items I requested.” He must have been referringto the packet delivered earlier. He pulled an object from his waistcoat and handed it to her.
It was a small miniature that fit in the palm of her hand. It was a picture of a boy with dark hair, a serious expression, and sombre eyes.
“That’s Hector!” She pulled the miniature closer to her eyes. “No, it’s not. Hector would never have that serious expression on his face.” She gasped. “It’s you!”
“Yes. If you turn the miniature, you can see the date is 1787. I was nine years old.”
“The resemblance is uncanny.” She held it up to his face. He had been a pretty boy—softer, sweeter, and with a trace of loneliness in his eyes. Now his face was all angles and planes, high cheekbones and a strong chin. The thought that one day Hector might look exactly like the Duke of Aldingbourne gave her goosebumps. She dropped her hand.
“This is the proof, I suppose,” she murmured more to herself than to him. “Have you shown it to Hector?”
“Not yet.”
Her eyes flew up to his face. “What do you intend to do now?”
He turned away and walked slowly along the gravel path. “Isn’t the question what arewegoing to do now?”
“Yes,” Lena stammered. “I suppose so.”
“I’d like to make it official,” he said curtly. “With your permission, and that of your family.”
She licked her dry lips and her heart began to pound. “Make it official. Like, an announcement in theWiener Abendblatt: Dead English Duchess Returns to Life.” Her hands framed the imaginary headline in the air.
His lips quirked upwards. “Not quite that dramatic. Now that you mention it, I suppose we must expect it. It will draw much curiosity, and there will be talk. It would have to be an official introduction to society here. You would appear at my side, as my duchess.”
Lena swallowed. That sounded daunting.
“Your parents would also have to be informed.”
“My parents…Are they well?”
He hesitated. “As well as one would expect them to be after the death of their only child.”
