Fleur was giving Pamela extended opportunities to be a child. Sybil and Mrs. Clement between them overprotected her. And on the rare occasion when Sybil did take her out, it was to visit adults so that she might sit quietly and Sybil might be complimented on her well-behaved daughter.
Fleur was good for her. She should have children of her own.
Pamela was tracing the line of his scar with one soft finger and singing under her breath. “How did it miss your eye, Papa?” she asked.
“Someone must have been looking after me,” he said.
“God?”
“Yes, God.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes, I suppose it must have,” he said. “I don’t remember much.”
She resumed her quiet singing as she ran her finger along the scar again.
He was feeling guilty. Duncan had spoken very briefly with him as he was leaving.
“It seems you are not in imminent danger of losing your governess after all, Adam,” he had said.
His grace had been looking ever since his arrival for some sign of what had happened. They had been alone together somewhere just before his arrival, but their expressions and behavior had given nothing away during tea.
“You changed your mind?” he had asked.
His friend had grimaced. “Rejected,” he had said.
Duncan Chamberlain was his friend. He wished for hishappiness. Four years before, he had lost a wife of whom he had been very fond. Fleur would be the perfect second wife for him and stepmother for his children. He should have been sorry to hear that she had rejected Duncan.
But he was feeling guilty. He had felt a surge of elation. And then more guilt. Had she felt forced to refuse because of what he had done to her and made her into? Of course she would have felt forced.
But there was that other, too. He must talk with her. He would have done it that morning, but had not wanted to risk doing anything to spoil the day Pamela had been so looking forward to. He must talk with her the next day.
“Did you kill anyone, Papa?” Pamela asked.
“In the wars?” he said. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But I’m not proud of it. I cannot help thinking that those men had mamas and perhaps wives and children. War is a terrible thing, Pamela.”
She nestled her head against his chest. “I’m glad no one killed you, Papa,” she said.
He hugged her to him with one arm.
The carriage was drawing to a halt on the terrace as he and Pamela walked from the stables.
“Miss Hamilton,” he called as she was about to disappear through the servants’ doors.
She stopped and looked at him inquiringly.
“Attend me in the library immediately after breakfast tomorrow if you will,” he said.
She turned a shade paler. Perhaps she had heard that he had a tendency to conduct any unpleasant business in the library.
“Yes, your grace.” She curtsied and continued on her way.
Perhaps he should have said nothing, he thought, staring at the closed servants’ doors. Perhaps he should have just summoned her when he was ready for her. Probably she would worry all night about what she had done wrong.
“Tiny will be sad,” Pamela said, tugging on his hand. “She has been without me all afternoon.”
“Let’s go and see how happy she is to see you, then,” he said, smiling down at her.
