Nora spent the next hour playing with the children, letting herself be pulled into their games and stories. It was a different world here, far removed from the ballrooms and drawing rooms of her usual existence, and she cherished every moment spent with these people.
She knew all their names, all their interests, all their little quirks and personalities. There was little Sarah, who was shy but had the sweetest singing voice. Thomas, with his boundless energy and constant questions. And other children, too, all of whom she had come to love deeply with all her heart. She felt responsible for them, but not in a way that was strictly about commitment, but rather in a way that made her want to provide and encourage their growth and development.
“Miss Nora, look!” Rhonda called, running over with a piece of parchment. “I drew this for you!”
The drawing depicted a woman in a fine dress standing among a group of children, all of them smiling. Nora felt her throat tighten with emotion.
“Rhonda, this is beautiful,” she said honestly. “Your shading has improved so much! And look at the details in the dress. You are becoming quite the artist.”
Rhonda beamed with pride, clutching the drawing to her chest.
“Do you really think so? Mrs Brighton says I might have what it takes to be a famous artist.”
“I know so,” Nora confirmed with a firm nod. “And Mrs Brighton is absolutely correct. Keep practicing, and one day you will be able to sell your art.”
“Mark, my goodness!” Nora exclaimed when the boy bounded over. “You have grown at least two inches since I last saw you. Soon you will be taller than Mrs. Brighton!”
Mark straightened proudly, puffing out his chest. “I have been eating all my meals, just like you told me to.”
“And it shows. You are becoming quite the strong young man.”
Eventually, as the hour grew even later, Nora knew she needed to return home. She said her goodbyes, promising to return soon, and made her way back through the dark streets with a full heart and a lighter spirit.
The journey home was uneventful, and she slipped back into her house through the same servants' entrance with the same careful stealth. Up the stairs, down the hallway, into her room –
Where a folded note sat waiting on her pillow.
Nora's heart sank. She picked up the note with trembling fingers and unfolded it. She did not recognize the bold curves of the handwriting, but she recognized the initials.
Come to me immediately. - G.M.
She stared at the note, a mixture of anger and apprehension churning in her stomach. How had he known? How had he gotten into her room?
And more importantly, what did he want?
Nora huffed, crumpling the note in her fist. Of course, the infuriating duke could not even allow her the peace of a single night without his interference.
Still, something in the tone of the note suggested that refusing the summons would only make things worse. With a sigh of reluctant resignation, she smoothed down her dress, checked her appearance in the mirror, and prepared to face whatever storm was waiting for her.
She slipped out of her house for the second time that night, the growing apprehension nearly crippling as she made her way down the street to her brother’s house. As she drew closer, she told herself that she had made the decision to go to him and that whatever was to come would only transpire according to her will.
And if he thought she would simply bow to whatever demands he might have without a fight, he was sorely mistaken.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nora stood before the door of her brother's house, her heart hammering against her ribs with a mixture of indignation and apprehension.
The note was still clutched tightly in her fist, a solid anchor that was likely all that was keeping her from turning around and marching right back home.
But she was too curious and too stubborn, irritated by the idea that she might appear cowardly if she turned tail and left. And so, with a deep breath, she lifted her closed fist and rapped against the door, perhaps more forcefully than strictly necessary.
The door opened almost immediately, as though Godric had been waiting just on the other side. Which was a likely scenario, knowing what he was capable of.
“Miss Nora,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Thank you for coming.”
“You did not leave me much of a choice,” she muttered, brushing past him into the entrance hall.
She could barely hold her tongue until they were in the drawing room, whirling around to face him once they had crossed the threshold to ask,
