Page 27 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
‘Does it still plague you?’ he asked, gesturing to her arm.
She looked down at her arm as if she hadn’t even known what she had been doing and stopped. ‘I am fine. It is much better. I am just anxious, I suppose.’
‘That makes two of us,’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘Would it make you feel better to know that Lady Buchanan knows of our ruse and plans to come tomorrow to assist you in preparing for the role?’
She froze and her lips parted. ‘She will?’
‘Yes. She told me before she left this evening.’ He walked towards her. ‘I should have told you, Miss Potts, before dinner, but I did not know if she would agree. I did not wish to get your hopes up only to disappoint you.’
‘I suppose that is a relief. Does she believe I can do it? Play this part?’ she asked, hugging her arms around her waist.
While William wasn’t sure of the answer, he could see the answer Miss Potts needed to hear. ‘Yes,’ he replied, despite the fact it might well be a lie. ‘She does.’
Miss Potts nodded and sat down on the cushion of the window seat. ‘That is good to hear, for when we met her for dinner, I wondered how in the world I could be as polished as she.’
He approached and settled on the window cushion seat with her, being mindful to leave adequate distance between them. ‘I think you will be surprised at just how easily you can transform into our fictional character once you have on fine dresses and learn the etiquette required of a lady.’
She stared at him, her brown eyes clouded with doubt. ‘How can you be so sure?’ she asked.
‘It is a fair question, I suppose. But when I think of how quickly you won all of us over here at Blithe Manor, it makes me certain of your success. All you must do is believe in it yourself.’
As he said the words, he wondered if it was indeed that simple. For he had believed in marriage, his wife and in a joyful future, but look where he had ended up. Why did he believe in her so? It defied reasoning.
She nodded. ‘I will try, Your Grace.’ She rose. ‘Thank you for speaking with me. I will be ready for Lady Buchanan’s arrival tomorrow.’
‘And, Miss Potts…’ he rushed out, reaching for her fingertips to halt her advance. The feathering touch sent an unexpected tremble through him and she stilled, as if she, too, were affected.
She turned to him. ‘Yes, Your Grace?’
He cleared his throat and gestured for her to join him, so she settled back on the window seat. ‘Lady Buchanan also helped me fashion a fake history for you. I wanted to get your approval of it before I share it with the household.’ He did not know how she would feel about the story they had crafted and he hesitated to continue.
She smiled at him and smoothed her skirts.
‘You were sent off to finishing school out of the country and have just returned.’
Her brow crinkled. ‘But what of the many years before that? How will such an absence be explained? And why would my parents not be in attendance at the ball celebrating with us?’
Why had they not thought of such? ‘Perhaps you lived abroad prior to that as well?’ he offered.
Her throat flushed and she shifted on the cushion seat. ‘Perhaps if you stick closer to my true history it will be easier for me,’ she began, unable to meet his gaze. ‘What if I was an orphan. A daughter of a nobleman and his mistress…maybe he did not know of me at all. And…on his deathbed, he goesin search of me, his only heir. He finds me, sends me off to finishing school, but dies before I meet you so you would never know any of my family?’
When she lifted her gaze to meet his, there was a desperation and truth in her glistening brown eyes that sent a jolt of compassion and longing through him. His chest tightened as he realised the cause of it.
‘Is that part of your own story, Miss Potts?’ he asked quietly.
She nodded and wiped away a tear. ‘Yes. I was a product of an affair. I never knew my father. He never claimed me and my mother died of a broken heart, I think.’
‘And you wished he would come back and find you? Claim you as his daughter?’
‘Yes,’ she began. ‘More than you can ever know,’ she finished, a sob cutting off her words.
His throat constricted. How could a father abandon his daughter? He couldn’t imagine such cruelty. He reached out and grasped her hand and squeezed it. ‘I am sorry beyond words. I wish—’ he began. Her crying intensified and he set aside his boundaries of employer and employee and pulled her into his arms, consoling her. The feel of her soft, petite frame within his own stole his breath and he savoured it far more than he should have. But it had been so long since he had been held and needed in such a way by a woman, he savoured it, relishing the tenderness of her vulnerability.
After a few more moments, she pulled back and wiped her face. ‘I am sorry, Your Grace. I forget myself and I…’
‘You do not need to apologise for anything, Miss Potts.’ He handed her a handkerchief, shuddering from the loss of her in his arms. ‘I dare say we do not have the usual employer–employee relationship.’ He attempted to steady his own emotions and his pulse. ‘But I believe we have settled on a fake history for you that is quite believable, have we not?’
She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she chuckled. ‘We do.’
