"I will. I promise." And like an obedient little girl, she turned to face the corner.
Mari fought back tears as she stood and stared at the freshly painted white wall. Papa had made a special nursery just for her but instead of enjoying it, and maybe getting more kisses like she had in the carriage, Mari was standing in the corner.
She didn't know what had gotten into her, but by the time they arrived at Willowmere Estate and she marveled at the size of the property, including gardens that stretched as far as the eye could see, then went inside the imposing manor with its row upon row of windows and wings extending on the east and west sides, her head spun.
After that, she'd been introduced to a housekeeper and steward and butler and on and on and on. By the time they'd reached the second floor, she had simply had enough.
And she'd ruined everything.
A slow tear rolled down her cheek. It was followed by another. And another.
This was meant to be the happiest day of her life. And for many reasons, it had been almost beyond comprehension.
But now she was standing in the corner. She had disappointed her papa. She’d stomped her foot at him. Not only was he her Papa, but he was a duke.
A pit formed in her stomach. What would Miss Wickersham say about such a breach of etiquette? She had prided herself on making sure each of the girls in her care were trained to have impeccable manners and within hours, Mari had behaved horribly.
More tears ran down her cheeks. She started to lift her hand to brush them away when she remembered Papa’s admonition… do not move. So she put her hands back down at her sides and tried very hard to stop crying but it seemed the more she tried to stop, the harder the tears fell.
A soft piece of fabric was brushed across her cheeks, then her eyes were carefully dabbed. Of course it was her Papa. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to say, “thank you,” but he put a finger to his lips, reminding her that she was not supposed to talk. He put the handkerchief in her hand and when she glanced down at it, she remembered their first meeting and how he had tended to her wound.
Her Papa would always take care of her, she knew that for certain.
A wave of calm washed over her and she squeezed the linen handkerchief in her hand. She had a papa, just like Miss Wickersham had promised. A kind man to love and care for her. To keep her safe and make sure she never suffered again.
Her tears stopped and she stared into the corner of the room with renewed determination to be the best little girl and wife she could be. Mari was no stranger to hard work and she’d use every ounce of energy she had to make sure she was the perfect wife for Theo.
A few moments later, Papa came and rested his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. Their eyes met and a quiverof heat moved through her. Her husband brought out many new and thrilling feelings in her.
Chapter Seven
“Little one.”
Her shoulders hunched. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Papa,” he corrected gently. “You are to call me Papa when we are in this room. And other times, that you will come to learn.”
Her eyes stung. She nodded, though she could not make her mouth say it yet.
“You stomped your foot at me.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
“I know, Papa,” he reminded her.
“I know, P-papa,” she said, and a thrill went through her as she said it. A Papa. Her Papa.
Papa smiled at her and caressed the side of her face with his palm. “I have longed to hear you call me Papa since the first time I saw you in the garden at Talcott House.”
“Truly?” she asked. She was still stunned that he had chosen her.
“Yes, truly,” he said, his expression softening and a warm glow filled his eyes. “I have waited a long time to find the perfect Little girl.”
“I am far from perfect, Papa,” she whispered, her gaze going to the floor.
He tipped her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. “You are perfect for me.” Still holding her chin, he leaned down and captured her lips with his in a gentle kiss that left Mari breathless when it ended.
“Oh, Papa,” she whispered.
