Page 21 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
He studied her. ‘How do you know this?’
‘That I am a horrible liar?’
‘Yes,’ he asked.
‘My friends Trudy and Ophelia have told me so. And they’ve known me for years.’
‘Would having them here make you more believable?’
She almost gasped. ‘No, Your Grace. It would make it harder. I don’t wish to lie to them as well.’
‘Would you be embarrassed to tell them if you agree to this?’
‘Yes,’ she faltered, her cheeks heating again.
‘Then why consider it?’
‘Because I want the chance to better my life and theirs with my continued employment here…and I also want to help your daughter. I know perhaps more than most how she feels right now.’
His gaze softened and a muscle ticked in his jaw before he swallowed and nodded. ‘May I ask?’ he said softly before clearing his throat to continue. ‘How she feels? How you felt after losing your mother?’
Goose pimples rose along her skin. Such an intimate question from him shook her, but his need to know the truth burned bright, hot and deep in his eyes as the light caught them from the candles lit sparsely around the room. She dared not deny him for he needed to know for Millie’s sake. She gathered herself for a moment before she spoke the truth.
‘I was eight and close to your daughter’s age when I lost my mother. I suppose the best way to describe it is like that tiny duckling we found at the lake my first morning here. It was alone and crying out for help on the other side of the lake, desperate for its mother. Then it was overjoyed at being reunited with her once we brought them together and couldn’t stop quacking. But, for me…for your daughter,’ she continued holding his intense gaze, ‘it is as though she is the duckling that never gets reunited with her mother. She just cries for her and aches for her…every day.’
His features tightened and he stared at her before he silently stood and walked over to the hearth, turning his back on her. He leaned his hands on the mantel and cursed, dipping his head before pushing back from it and running a hand over his face. When he turned to her, his eyes reflected in the firelight bright with unshed tears.
A chill came over her as they stared upon one another with such a ferocity she felt naked and exposed. She had revealed too much to him about herself and his daughter and she wished to take the words back, but she couldn’t.
‘Thank you for your honesty,’ he said, blinking, his tone husky and full of emotion.
The fire crackled and silence settled between them.
‘I am grateful for it and I feel compelled…no, that it is not right.’ He hesitated. ‘Iwantto tell you about Cecily, my late wife. You should know what you are stepping into in some sense andit may help you understand why I have dared ask this of you.’ He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets.
‘Mrs Chisholm told me she died in a carriage accident,’ Hattie offered. ‘I am sorry, Your Grace.’ And she was. ‘I can see how it pains you to speak of it.’
He released an awkward chuckle and shook his head. ‘Ah, thank you, Miss Potts, but I think you mistake me,’ he offered. He wiped a hand over his mouth and his brow furrowed before he continued. ‘It is not grief, but her betrayal that pains me…angers me,’ he replied, his words sharpening, darkening with emotion. ‘She had affairs with other men and she died with one of those men, breaking the vows of our marriage, in a carriage accident that night.’
Hattie stilled and her throat dried. She could have sworn her heart stopped in her chest. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. Her cheeks heated. Why would a woman do such to her husband, especially to a man such as him? No wonder he did not wish to remarry and held himself at such a distance from Society. Hattie stared down at her lap, uncertain what to do. What did one say after such an admission?
‘And because of her choices,’ he continued, ‘my daughter has no mother and she does not speak, and we live as we do now attempting to recover from the damage she inflicted upon us under theton’s oppressive gaze. It enrages me. So, it is notgriefthat keeps me silent, but the shame and anger of her betrayal and the scandal that has engulfed us since then.’
Hattie’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears as she looked upon him. ‘I am so sorry,’ she replied. ‘I did not know. I thought—’
He met her gaze and gave a wistful smile. ‘That I was a grieving widower?’
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
‘Well, at least now you know I am not.’ He sighed. ‘I grieved for the loss of the marriage and the woman I believed I hadmarried early on in our union. Now, I am merely a protective father hoping to shield his daughter from further harm.’
‘You do not worry I may fail in this charade and bring you worse scandal?’
‘No,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘I have every belief in you, Miss Potts.’ His words were certain and steady. ‘Dare I ask if you have decided if you will take part in our ruse?’ he asked.
Her mind screamed not to risk such foolishness and deception and to just remain the governess, but her heart, her heart smothered out that reluctance when she thought of what he and Millie had suffered and that she might help her recover. ‘Yes. I will help you.’ Hattie’s words came out quietly like a tremble against the air.
His shoulders relaxed, his gaze softening further. ‘Thank you,’ he said, walking closer to her. ‘And as I said yesterday, I promise to protect you in all of this, Miss Potts. Your reputation will not be harmed.’ He reached out his hand to shake hers. ‘To seal our agreement.’
