Page 30 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

By afternoon she’d found a still room with half its herbs gone to seed, a nursery colder than it should be, and a household running on habit because no one had actually run it in years. Nothing was ruined, just neglected. She didn’t mind the work of fixing it as it gave her something to do.

She supposed that, in some way, this was her task in the household. Adding a woman’s touch to things. Where her husband had only been focused on the grand, bigger picture of things, she had ought to focus on the smaller details.

It was one way that she resolved to make their dynamic work.

Before bed, she made herself do the one thing she’d been putting off all day.

The most important part of her role as a new Duchess, perhaps. Someone who was supposed to look after and take care of Sarah.

She knocked softly on Sarah’s door and let herself in. She sat by the fire with a book open in her lap and looked up with the same guarded expression as yesterday.

“Good evening, Sarah. I hope I’m not intruding.” her tone was hesitant at first, but still warm. She knew the importance of staying warm when speaking to children.

They picked up easily on these things.

“No,” Sarah said, in a tone that suggested otherwise.

Augusta sat in the chair by the window and didn’t push. “I’ve been getting to know the house today. It’s very grand, isn’t t?”

She had hoped that a conversation could be sparked between them, but it didn’t, as Sarah said nothing, though her eyes flicked toward Augusta before dropping back to the page.

“What are you reading?”

A pause. Then Sarah turned the book so the cover caught the firelight. Worn edges, cracked spine, a girl standing before a castle wrapped in briar.

“The Sleeping Briar Rose,” Augusta said. “That was one of my favorites, at your age.”

Sarah’s head came up. “You know this one?”

“I know it very well. There’s a part near the end where the girl talks to the ravens guarding the tower. Do you remember it?”

“She isn’t afraid of them,” Sarah said before she could stop herself. “Everyone thinks she should be, but she isn’t.”

For a moment neither of them said anything, and it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as the silences from yesterday had.

“Would you like me to read some of it to you?” Augusta asked. “I don’t have to. Only if you’d like.”

Sarah looked down at the book, then back up, weighing it.

“You can read the raven part,” she said finally. “Just that part.”

Sarah shifted over, just slightly, making room on the rug beside her without quite inviting Augusta to take it. Augusta came and sat anyway, close enough to see the page, not so close as to crowd her, and took the book gently when Sarah held it out.

She read slowly, and Sarah listened without interrupting, knees drawn up to her chest, eyes fixed on the fire rather than on Augusta. When the ravens spoke, Sarah’s mouth moved faintly along with the words, like she’d read this page enough times to know it by heart. Augusta finished the chapter and closed the book softly.

“Thank you,” Sarah said.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Sarah.”

Sarah didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away either, and when Augusta reached the door and glanced back, the girl was still watching her, book held against her chest.

It wasn’t much. But it was a start.

CHAPTER 8

The dining room had been prepared for only two people, although its proportions made the arrangement seem almost absurd, because the table could have seated twenty with room to spare, while Augusta and Ronan had been placed near one end.

Augusta paused just inside the doorway, because Ronan had already risen from his chair and then crossed over into the room.