Page 41 of His Godsent Duchess
Christina's heart sank. "Poor dears," she whispered. She was meant to be their protector, their comfort, and yet here she lay, incapacitated and unable to shield them from the one person they feared the most.
Forcing her thoughts away from her mounting frustration, she squeezed Kitty's hand gently. "I will be out of this bed soon, and Miss Peversly shall no longer be an issue."
Kitty nodded, though the crease in her brow remained. Christina watched as she rose from her chair and gave a soft curtsy before quietly slipping out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Christina exhaled sharply, the frustration she had suppressed finally spilling over.
Victor, what have you done? Leaving us when we need you!
Annie's frown deepened as she looked at Christina with wide, troubled eyes. "Why is the house in such disharmony, sister?" she asked, her voice low, as though she feared her question might stir further unrest.
Christina sighed, the weight of her situation pressing heavily upon her chest. She met Annie's gaze, her own heart aching for her sister's innocence, still so palpable despite everything. "The Duke seeks discipline, Annie, but his methods..." She paused, choosing her words with care. "They suppress the girls' spirits. He may not see it, but his approach will quash what makes them so full of life. It is not unlike how our parents tried to stifle you."
Annie lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. After a long pause, she spoke again, her voice soft. "Since I arrived at Kilton Castle, I have been happier than I have in years."
Christina's heart softened, a smile forming despite her own pain. She reached out, taking Annie's smaller one in hers, though careful not to strain her bruised shoulder. "That is precisely why I asked you here, dearest. I wanted you to feel the freedom you deserve."
Annie's smile wavered, giving way to a flicker of concern. "But with Miss Peversly back in charge... will things not return to how they were? Kitty told me everything about her."
"No," she said, "I will not allow it. This is my household too, and no one—least of all Miss Peversly—will diminish my role here."
Annie's brows furrowed in quiet confusion. "But how will you manage, with His Grace still supporting her?"
Christina pressed her lips into a thin line, her determination sharpening. Carefully, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, mindful of her injured shoulder. Annie moved to assist, but Christina held up a hand, nodding her gratitude. She would rise on her own. Wincing, she gingerly pushed herself upright, every movement deliberate to avoid further pain.
"I will manage," she said softly, but with a conviction that left no room for doubt. "I made a vow the day I married the Duke, Annie. These girls are my daughters now, and I shall do what is necessary to ensure they are happy and cared for."
Annie watched her. "What will you do, Christina?"
"I shall get dressed and take care of my home," Christina replied, reaching for the bellpull by the bed. Her movements, though slow, were purposeful.The Duke can do as he pleases, but I have my duties.
Eighteen
Iam away from Kilton Castle, and still I have no peace!
Victor paced the length of the drawing room in his London manor, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished wood floors. His mind was in turmoil, torn between the urge to return to Christina and the dread of what staying close to her might unravel.
He shouldn't have left, not with her nursing an injury and Miss Peversly reinstated as the children's governess. Yet here he was, miles away from the very people he had vowed to care for, all because of a stubborn fear he refused to confront.
He stopped abruptly, running a hand through his hair.Too many similarities between her and Christian. It could only end in disaster if I stayed.The thought pounded at him like a relentless drumbeat. Christina's restless, fiery spirit mirrored his late brother's so closely it left Victor unnerved, as if history was on the verge of repeating itself.
"That was a rather short honeymoon, Kilton," came a teasing voice from the doorway.
Victor turned to see Ashing leaning against the doorframe, grinning with all the charm and mischief of a man who never took life too seriously. He couldn't help the shake of his head as he muttered, "Did you come to assess the duration of my honeymoon or keep me company as requested?"
Ashing laughed, a light sound that seemed to mock the heaviness weighing down Victor's heart. "Both, my friend," he replied, striding into the room and taking a seat in one of the armchairs. He crossed his legs casually, leaning back as though he had not a care in the world. "But I must admit, I'm more interested in what's driven you away from your lovely duchess so soon."
Victor scowled, resuming his pacing, though the irritation gnawed at him more than the question. "The duchess is... not what I thought she was."
Ashing arched a brow, his teasing demeanor tempered by mild curiosity. "Not what you thought? How so?"
Victor stopped and faced him, folding his arms across his chest. "I married expecting a composed woman, one who would discipline my daughters and teach them how to behave as proper ladies. Instead, I have a wife who would rather join them in running wild by the lake."
At that, Ashing burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the room with unapologetic amusement. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Victor. "Spirit! And here I thought you preferred a life of order and stillness. You've married yourself a whirlwind, my friend. What in heaven's name did you do to offend God so terribly?"
Victor's jaw clenched. It irked him how easily Ashing found humor in his predicament. But what unsettled him more was how undeniably true his friend's words were. "It's not a matter of offense," he snapped, turning toward the window, where he pushed the curtain aside to stare out at the darkened lawn. "She is... rare," he admitted, though the words odd to him. "And that is what troubles me."
Ashing's laughter faded, and he regarded Victor with a knowing smile. "Rare, you say? Then what's the problem? Any man would be grateful to find such a gem."
Victor's grip tightened on the edge of the curtain, the fabric bunching in his fist. "She's too reckless, Ashing. Too much like Christian. That kind of spirit... it only gets people hurt."
