Page 18 of His Runaway Duchess

“Well, yes. I have to go home, you see. I left quite a mess behind me.”

Alex glanced over his shoulder at the governess. “Can’t you persuade her to stay, Mrs. Trench?”

“The decision isn’t ours, Master Alexander,” Mrs. Trench answered gently. “But I’m sure your paths will cross again. When you’re older.”

Alex sighed. “When I’m older, when I’m older. All the good things only happen when I’m older.”

“That’s the sad thing about being eight,” Daphne agreed. “You have to wait for life to getreallygood. Just try and enjoy being eight, though. I certainly did. I spent all my time with my sister—we were inseparable.”

Alex only looked more morose. “I don’t have a brother or sister. It’s just me.”

Mrs. Trench cleared her throat. “We only agreed on a simple goodnight, Master Alexander. You’ve had a long day, and you need your rest. And so does Miss Belmont.”

“Oh, before I retire, could I ask whether a letter could be posted for me?” Daphne asked, blushing. “I know I’m asking a lot. I want to send a note to my sister, just to let her know that I’m safe and well. She’ll worry. She always worries about me.”

“Of course. Write the letter and have someone bring it to my room, and I’ll take care of it,” Mrs. Trench said, flashing her a smile.

“I wish somebody worried about me like that,” Alex muttered.

Daphne’s chest tightened. She met Mrs. Trench’s eyes over the top of Alex’s head and saw that the older woman’s expression was tight and resigned.

“Well, that’s not true,” she said quietly. “Iwas worried about you today because you were all alone. I was lucky to meet you.”

Alex brightened a little. “Really? You were happy to meet me?”

“Of course! Who wouldn’t be? And I’m sure that your Papa loves you very much. He was worried about you today—I saw it.”

Alex shook his head. “Papa doesn’t worry about things like that. He didn’t even come to say goodnight to me today. Mrs. Trenchlet me stay up for an hour past my bedtime to wait for him, but he didn’t come. He never comes.”

A lump formed in Daphne’s throat. This time, she didn’t dare look at Mrs. Trench.

The governess placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Come, Master Alexander. You need your sleep. We can’t delay any longer—it’s time for bed.”

Alex nodded. “Goodnight, Miss Belmont.”

He executed a surprisingly graceful bow for an eight-year-old boy.

Smiling, Daphne curtsied back.

Mrs. Trench led Alex back down the corridor, the two of them talking in low, hushed tones.

Daphne retreated into her bedroom, but any restfulness she’d felt was gone. She had never considered herself particularly fond of children or babies, but Alex was a sweet, little boy and surprisingly clever and kind for his age. He deserved better than a father who ignored him and scolded him. What parent could ignore their children in that way?

Perhaps I’m just lucky. For all his flaws, Papa was a good father, and Mama loves us with all her heart. Perhaps I don’t understand how bad an uncaring parent can be.

But then the Duke didn’t seem evil. Or cruel, the way Alex said that he was.

Ah, but I don’t know him, do I? I don’t know a thing about him.

No, it was no good. Despite his sharp manner, Daphne did not believe that the Duke wascruel. She’d seen cruel men before, and the Duke did not fit in with what she’d seen.

Somebody should tell him.

I bet nobody has ever tried to tell him. I was sure he cared about his son. I could see it. But if he’s like that with Alex—all brusque and unfriendly—well, of course, an eight-year-old boy isn’t going to respond to that!

If somebody would only tell him… just give him a little nudge in the right direction…

Daphne stood at the edge of the bed, her hands on her hips, and stared down at the new dress she’d been given. It was a simple design, easy enough to put on herself. She could put it on, wander through the house…

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