“Thanking you,” he chuckled.
“Oh…” Her cheeks flushed. “And thank you in return… for all the thanks you have given me.” She laughed softly at how silly their conversation was, and she was relieved to hear him do the same.
The Duke still sat on the same chair right by his son’s head, and Yvette sat on a settee beside it. But she was down the wrong end, a gap between herself and the Duke, and on instinct she shuffled forward, bringing herself closer.
“You’re good with him,” the Duke continued, still watching over his son. “I sense you are with most children.”
“I have my moments.”
He laughed gently. “It’s more than that. You’re a natural. So much that it makes me wonder…” He trailed off, his brow furrowed, and then he shook his head. “You care for children through the church, don’t you?”
She stiffened slightly with unease, because she had sensed what he was about to ask her. No doubt, he was curious about what she had no children of her own, and while a part of her wanted to tell him the reason, another part shied away.
As close as we are… I don’t think we are quite there yet.
“We do,” she started carefully. “It was several years ago when my father noticed how many orphans there were coming to his sermon. Many were from the estate, the various farms. Some even from London, likely just passing through. He thought it might be a good idea to feed them.”
“I have a feeling that you had a hand in convincing him.”
She smiled at the memory of it, because he was right in that. With no children of her own, there was a hole inside of Yvette that she needed to fill. And while she might have liked to have filled it with her own child… that simply was not possible.
“Perhaps a little,” she said. “But my father did not hesitate once I suggested it. Now, we feed them twice a week and even clothe those that need it. It is not much, and I wish we could do more but…” She sighed. “I do love being able to help, where I can.”
“You clearly love children,” he said.
“I do.”
Silence fell between them again. This time, it was strained by the obvious question that sat between them. He wanted to ask her but he was afraid too. Yvette very nearly told the Duke herself, but she held back.
Why do I even care? It is not as if it is anything to be ashamed of.
She knew the reason why. Despite how much closer she and the Duke had become, that one secret was a piece of herself that she was able to use to guard her feelings and maintain the gap that separated them. So long as she had it to herself, she could pretend that she and the Duke were nothing more than employer and employee. She could pretend that they were still strangers…
Thankfully, he did not press her.
His focus turned back to Hugh, who was already looking better than he had done. The hour was late, or early, depending on how one looked at it, well past midnight so that soon the sun would begin to rise. Hugh’s color had returned slightly, and he was no longer coated in sweat.
Still, the Duke watched over him. Still, he held his son’s hand as if his life depended on it. And still, she could see the love that he had for his son.
“What of yourself?” she asked gently, shuffling forward just a little.
“What do you mean?” He turned away from Hugh and looked at her.
“Have you always loved children?”
He frowned. “The wording of that question implies that I do now.”
She rolled her eyes. “There is no need to play coy any longer with me, Your Grace.” She flicked her eyes at Hugh. “I see how you are with him, just as I see how much you love him. You’re a good father. Better than you think.”
He winced and looked away. “That’s not true.”
Without thinking, she reached forward and rested her hand on his arm. She felt him tense and then relax, a smile reaching his lips as he looked from her hand to her face. She did not look away, and their eyes held…
“You are a good father,” she said again, meaning it. “Perhaps not a perfect one, but Hugh is lucky to have you. It’s about time you realize it.”
“Just making up for lost time…” He sighed, and his eyes dropped. “It really is the least that I can do. I wonder, too…” His brow furrowed with intensity as he looked at Hugh. “Had his mother not died, would he be better off with her. I want to believe this is best, but a boy needs a mother.”
“As he does a father.”
