“If you say so. It’s a nice big basket, a beautiful one.”
It was. My mother had made it. Entwined with plaited reeds braided into a handle, it had a deep brown bowl that was big enough to put two Lionels.
“The duke is truly loving your bread and basket.”
To prove I wasn’t falling for the duke, I decided to go to the drawing room. I stood up, smoothed my skirts of wrinkles and went to the door.
When I lifted my hand to knock, I heard the duke’s baritone mention Wellington’s name. Then something about war.
Then something about Lionel.
Eavesdropping wasn’t something I did. Well, a few times I overheard Colin and Markham arguing about nonsense. Then there was that volatile last meeting in the drawing room.
Yet, I was locked in place wanting to know what the duke meant. Wellington was the commander of England’s forces in the ongoing war.
Was that why the duke drilled so hard, to return to battle?
My heart stopped as fear enmeshed it, crushing it tight.
“Patience.”
Jemina’s loud whisper made me jump and knock into the door.
I turned to her and made eyes at her, but the woman waved me forward, bolstering me.
The door opened and a man with officer’s braiding on his uniform came out. “The commander will see you now.”
I didn’t think I was expected, but, having knocked, it wasn’t like I had a choice. The pit of my stomach looped and knotted, making a bow.
Stepping inside, my first time in days, I saw the duke sitting at the big desk. He wasn’t in military dress but relaxed in a bronze embroidered waistcoat and buff breeches. My gaze fell to his bandaged foot, and I wondered how he could think of returning to war with what it had done to him.
His hands laced upon a pile of papers. “Mrs. LaCroy, you must be prescient. I’ve made improvements to my ward’s schedule. Or has Lionel told you of our talk last night?”
His smile, warm and inviting, mirrored the one his face held when we danced at Lionel’s crib. Dance was the only way to describe what we did each night—the close but not touching approach to the baby, him slipping to the left, me to right. His breath teased my neck as he passed. Then we parted with the exchange of scents—his rum and sandalwood, my lavender.
“Lionel didn’t mention any changes, and I didn’t think I was on your schedule.”
“True. We do our best work at night . . . with Lionel.”
I should laugh at his joke, but I didn’t know if he was joking or if he saw my confusion, my belabored heart. Weweregood in the quiet night. We took care of Lionel well. My boy was getting stronger, and he reached for the duke as much as me. If the man had milk, I might be replaced.
“I’ve been thinking about us and Lionel. Please come forward. You don’t need to be at such a formal distance. This is a welcomed meeting, nothing more.”
I wanted to clutch my pianoforte. I was safe at this distance, but when the duke called, his nanny was expected to come.
Head tossed back, I walked the long distance to the desk and took my seat.
His expression turned pensive. “Mrs. LaCroy, have you ever traveled?”
Travel? Maybe he found milk and I was being sent away, a nanny retirement? “Yes, Your Grace. I have. I’m from Demerara.”
“My favorite rum.”
“It’s more than rum, sir.”
“I know. I haven’t had the pleasure of visiting, but some of my friends have. My cousin, I believe . . . went.”
I stared at him and didn’t blink. If he’d finally put it all together, I would not lie. I was tired of this secret stuck between us.
