Page 74 of His Runaway Duchess

“Shall we give Her Grace a moment with Master Alexander, then, Jemimah?” he asked, a trifle nervously. “You’ve had a shock yourself. I could get a cup of tea for you, perhaps?”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Peter. That’s kind.”

The two of them shuffled out, talking in low voices.

Daphne sank onto a low stool beside Alex.

“They like each other, you know,” he said confidentially. “Mrs. Trench and Peter. They’re alwayslookingat each other. Did you know that Mrs. Trench isn’t really married? I thought she was, on account of theMrs., but Papa said not. It’s just a respectful thing, I believe, like calling the housekeeper Mrs. Cobb even thoughshe’snot married, either.”

Daphne smiled at this babble of information.

“I think Peter and Mrs. Trench like each other, too. They suit each other, don’t they? But Mrs. Trench probably cannot marry him. She would have to stop being your governess, and she loves you too much.”

Alex frowned at this. “That’s a great pity. Is there nothing she can do? Can she not get married and keep her job? Men do it, all the time. Why should Mrs. Trench not be allowed?”

Daphne sighed. “That’s an excellent question, Alex. I’m afraid I don’t have the answer. But enough about all of that—I am here to seeyou. How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?”

“My arm hurts a little,” Alex confessed. “But Doctor Seymour put a few drops of something in my tea, and now I feel a little better. He said that there might be pain, but I should be careful not to move my arm too much even so. He said I’m very brave, and Papa said that I’m very silly.”

“You are, Alex,” Daphne responded, swallowing hard to choke back tears. “You mustn’t do such a thing again.”

“I bet Papa could have cleared that jump,” Alex muttered mulishly.

“I daresay he could. But I could not, and you are too small. You were lucky because you might have hurt yourself so seriously that you would not have been able to ride again. Alex, you could havedied.” She swallowed again, forcing herself to continue. “I thought you were dead, for a minute. Did they tell you that? Your papa thought you were dead. His face was so pale and terrified. You can’t do that again, Alex.”

Alex lowered his head, seeming a little ashamed.

“Doctor Seymour said that I could have died,” he mumbled. “Papa’s face was all tight and funny. I think he’s angry with me.”

“He’s not angry with you. He’s only worried, that’s all. If he’s angry with anyone, it is me.”

Alex’s head snapped up at that. “Angry with you? Why would he be angry with you?”

Daphne immediately regretted saying that. “He’s not angry with me. At least, not much. But I ought to have been taking care of you. I should have been more diligent. The race… the race was a bad idea, I see that now.”

Alex leaned forward, his face alight. “But Ilikedthe race. I’m tired of being treated like a… like a doll, Daffie! I know I’m too young to do many things, but I can dosomethings. Mrs. Trench taught me chess so that Papa and I could play, but he never wants to play with me. Mrs. Trench can’t ride, and Peter always lets me win. I likeyou, Daffie. I don’t even have friends my own age. I liked Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Stephen very much, but now that they’ve… now that they’ve gone home, I’m all alone again.” He sniffed, dropping his head to his chest. “You won’t leave, will you?”

No, of course not,Daphne wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat.

“They only want you to be safe,” she said instead. “And you were safe, until me and my stupid race. Life can’t always be about what’sfun, Alex. I should have taken better care of you. It… it ismy fault, no matter what anyone says. I’ve never had much to do with children, you know. My sister and I are the youngest. Wearethe children of the house, and we’ve always been treated as such.”

Did I think that saying a vow and putting on a wedding ring would make me a grown-up?

They’re all right, all of them. Alex could have died because I couldn’t see the danger.

That was a terrifying thought, and it constricted her throat and made her feel dizzy. It was a good thing that she was already sitting down because Daphne worried that she might have collapsed altogether.

A tap at the door made her jump. She spun around to see a kindly, middle-aged man with a pince-nez smiling down at her.

“Your Grace? I am Doctor Seymour.”

“Doctor, it’s a pleasure. Alex is well, I have heard?”

He nodded. “A little rest and care is the thing, and perhaps no more big jumps on horseback for a good long while, hm?”

The doctor aimed his comment at Alex, who flushed and smiled, but Daphne felt as though it was forher—a sharp reproof.

Look at what you’ve done, Your Grace. As if you were worthy of the name. Look at the state of the boy. Look at the state of you. Some duchess you are.

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