She opened her mouth… so close to asking him. Oh, how she wanted to know the whole story. Who was Hugh’s mother? Why did she take Hugh, rather than having him raised here? And how was the Duke dealing with her death?
Yvette did not ask any of these questions. Not yet. Not until she felt that she and the Duke were close enough to have such a conversation as that… assuming they ever would be.
Rather, Yvette chose to focus on the now, the day at hand, and how wonderfully it was turning out.
It was the Duke’s suggestion that they go for a ride across the estate. When he had joined Yvette in the reading room, Hugh’s first instinct was to cower and shy away, apparently terrified of his father, as if the mere sight of him was proof that he had done something wrong.
Yvette stayed back during the interaction, curious to see how it might play out.
Surprisingly, the Duke did not tell Hugh what they were doing but asked him. His voice was gentle, his eyes were kind, and as he spoke, she could see Hugh relaxing. When the Duke asked if he wished to go for a ride, the boy’s eyes filled with excitement.
It wasn’t until they were on their horses that Hugh truly relaxed. As he rode, he constantly looked back at his father for guidance and support, and the Duke laughed and urged him forward in a way that was almost natural, as if they had done this one hundred times before.
He was nowhere near perfect. He still had so far to go. But progress was being made, and Yvette could not help but be impressed.
“You’re better with him than you think.” Yvette rode side-saddle, and she steered her horse beside the Duke’s so they both trotted at a steady pace.
In the distance, Hugh’s cries of laughter echoed across the paddock.
“What?” The Duke had been focusing on Hugh, but he turned sharply to find her beside him.
“You with Hugh,” she said. “You’re better with him than you think. There’s a natural connection there that I doubt you realize but is obvious to anyone watching.”
He scoffed. “Unlikely.”
“I’m being serious,” she laughed. “You’re his father, and he knows that you are. It’s obvious in the way he acts when he’s around you…” She smirked. “And how you act around him.”
“Like a big oaf, you mean.”
She laughed further. “Something like that.”
“It’s not easy for me,” he admitted slowly. “This whole being a father thing. I never wanted it, you know. But when I learned what had happened to Hugh’s mother…” He let the words trail.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she told him, feeling that it was what needed to be said. “Anyone who sees you together will say the same.”
He rolled his eyes. “Better than my own father, at least.”
“Oh? Were you and he not close?”
The change that took the Duke was subtle, but Yvette saw it. A shadow passed behind his eyes, and his shoulders turned stiff. While the day was a bright and sunny one, the world turned dark as if a storm was approaching…
“No, we weren’t.” The Duke turned away.
Again, Yvette felt the urge to ask questions that she knew she had no right to ask. It made her realize, as she had done often this last week, how little she knew about the Duke. Almost nothing, to be fair.
She had no reason to know more than she did. She was just his son’s governess; her role was to teach Hugh, and that was as far as it needed to go. Yet…
Yvette could sense a familiarity growing between them; a sense of comfort that was forming slowly. It was strange to consider that a man whom she had previously seen as being so dispassionate and dark had a kind and approachable side, one that she no longer feared trying to access.
The Duke pushed his horse forward and she watched him from afar.
He still carried the same darkness as he had done when they first met. His black hair. His dark eyes. That scar on his face. And he was constantly scowling with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes. It was no wonder when she first met him that she had been more than a little terrified.
“Were you the same when you were his age?” Yvette steered her horse closer to the Duke again.
He watched Hugh ride back and forth, but he snapped his head around when he heard her speak. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” she laughed. “Or maybe a better question is, were you this serious? Or does that come with age?”
