Page 39 of His Godsent Duchess
At that, Mrs. Brimsey turned back to the door, allowing the physician, Mr. Browning, to enter. He greeted Christina with a polite bow, introducing himself as he stepped forward to examine her. His presence was calm and professional, but before he could begin, the door opened again.
This time, Victor entered the room, his tall figure silhouetted against the light from the hallway. He walked in quietly, taking his place beside Christina's bed without saying a word.
Mr. Browning's examination was brief. "It is nothing more than a bruised shoulder, Your Grace," he said, his tone professional and reassuring. "There is no break or dislocation, just a nasty bruise. Rest will do wonders."
Christina smiled up at Victor, attempting to ease the tension she sensed in him. "See? There's nothing to worry about. I told you." Her words were gentle, but Victor's response—or lack thereof—puzzled her. He didn't return her smile; instead, he remained distant, his expression closed off.
Before she could say anything more, Victor's voice broke through the silence. "What can be done to lessen her pain?" he asked the physician, his tone low but firm. The question startled her. He was showing a level of care she hadn't expected, but the way he asked it, so devoid of warmth, left her even more confused. Which Victor was real—the tender man who had carried her inside, or the one who now stood here, his concern masked by cold detachment?
Mr. Browning prescribed laudanum for the pain and reiterated the need for rest. As the physician gathered his things and prepared to leave, Victor remained at Christina's side. His voice was steady but distant as he looked down at her. "Take the physician's advice and rest, Christina."
She nodded, but before she could say anything more, he turned and left, the door closing softly behind him. Christina leaned back against the pillows, her heart feeling heavier than her bruised shoulder. Why did he do that? Show care one moment, and then distance himself the next? It was as though he didn't want to let her in but couldn't fully keep himself from caring either.
Her thoughts were interrupted by another knock at the door. This time, Addison opened it without waiting for permission. Christina heard her maid's voice, firm and protective. "Her Grace has no wish to see you."
Then came a voice that made Christina's pulse quicken with unease. "I am only here to wish the Duchess well."
"Miss Peversly," Addison said, her tone stiff and formal, clearly trying to dismiss the governess. "I'll deliver your message."
But Christina, despite everything, felt a strange impulse. "Let her in, Addison."
The maid hesitated, her eyes locking with Christina's for a brief moment. There was a subtle shake of her head, as if urging her mistress to reconsider. Yet Christina, her mind still swirling with thoughts of Victor, didn't see the harm in Miss Peversly's visit. What could the governess possibly do to her now?
Miss Peversly entered, her skirts swishing in that way Christina had come to find ominous. She curtsied, her expression as demure and polite as ever. "Your Grace," she began smoothly, "I came to express my deepest sympathies for your unfortunate accident. I do hope you recover swiftly."
Christina, though weary, nodded graciously. "Thank you, Miss Peversly."
The governess's eyes gleamed slightly as she continued. "I thought, in your current state, it might be best for the children if I took over their care until you are fully recovered."
Christina's entire body tensed, her hand instinctively clenching the fabric of her nightrail. She glanced at Addison, whose subtle shake of the head returned. A knot formed in her stomach as her gaze flickered back to Miss Peversly. She was about to suggest that Miss Peversly speak with the Duke when the governess spoke again.
"I've already discussed the matter with His Grace," Miss Peversly said with a sly smile. "He has granted his permission."
Christina's stomach dropped. She felt her pulse quicken, a wave of unease crashing over her. Why would Victor so quickly hand the children back to her? Without even consulting her?
Seventeen
The door to Victor's study swung open with such force that the papers on his desk fluttered. His head snapped up, brows furrowed, as little Agnes stood framed in the doorway. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and her cheeks were streaked with fresh tears.
"Agnes," Victor's voice was low, controlled, though concern instantly tightened in his chest. He set down the letter he had been reading and rose from his chair. "What has happened?"
Her lip trembled, and with a quivering voice, she asked, "Why is Miss Peversly our governess again, Father? We don't want her."
Before Victor could respond, Miss Peversly herself appeared, gliding into the room with a practiced curtsy. "Your Grace, I have spoken at length with Her Grace," she said, her tone smooth, almost too sweet. "The Duchess has entrusted me with the care of the children while she recovers. It is her wish that I resume my duties until she is well."
Victor blinked in surprise, trying to mask his reaction. Christina? Agreeing to this? It didn't make sense. She had made it abundantly clear that she found Miss Peversly unsuitable, so why would she suddenly change her mind? His mind raced as the governess continued.
"The Duchess believes this is in the children's best interest, and as such, she requested my return to their care. I only want what is best for your daughters, Your Grace."
Agnes stamped her foot, her voice a mix of desperation and frustration. "But we don't want her! Why doesn't anyone listen to us?" Her tears returned, full force, as she looked up at Victor with pleading eyes.
Miss Peversly remained composed, her tone as measured as before. "The child is simply upset because of the changes, Your Grace. With a little guidance, she will come to understand that I only wish to help."
Victor hesitated. Agnes' tearful protests tugged at his heart, but Miss Peversly's reasoning seemed… logical, on the surface. If Christina had indeed called for this, who was he to argue against her decision? She was their mother now, after all, and he trusted her judgement with the children.
Still, something about the situation gnawed at him.
He nodded slowly. "Very well. You may continue to care for the children." He turned to Agnes, his voice softening. "Go on, now, Agnes. Miss Peversly will take care of you."
