Page 135 of The Duelist for the Ton
She nodded, lowering her gaze to her right foot.
“And the duke took you in?”Perhaps Foxton isn’t as much of a bastard as I’ve always thought.
“It was Lady Portia that took me in,” Tilly said. “She insisted.” She gave a soft smile. “The kindest lady that ever lived, is Lady Portia. I just wish she wasn’t so—” She broke off, blushing. “Oh dear. Mrs. Platt’s always telling me not to rattle on about my betters. I’ve no right to speak of her.”
“You have every right if you care about her, Tilly,” Stephen said. “What do you wish for her?”
“That she wasn’t so unhappy. I know gentlefolk’s not the same as us—they don’t have feelings like the rest of us—but Lady Portia always seems sosad.”
Stephen hesitated, his stomach fluttering in anticipation. “Why do you think Lady Portia is sad?”
“Mrs. Platt says it’s not for me to ask. When I arrived at Forthridge, Lady Portia had just returned from a period of convalescence. A long illness, Mrs. Platt said, but I must not speak of it.”
“Do you see much of Lady Portia?” Stephen asked.
“She spends most of her time in her chamber—even last week, when the weather was so fine, she remained inside.” The maid smiled. “Except when she visits the children. She sometime takes me with her, to help with fetching and carrying and the like. Ever so patient, she is, seeing as I can’t walk fast.”
“The children…of the estate?” Stephen asked, willing his voice to remain calm, yet aware of his heart hammering against his chest. “Is she fond of the children?”
“Ohyes!” Tilly said. “The young girl, Jenny, at Willow farm is a bit of a handful—she likes to climb trees and such, and her pa caught her pretending to play at sword fighting with her brother, but Lady Portia tells her that girls are as good as boys at sword fighting and marksmanship.”
“Often they’rebetterthan boys,” Stephen said, smiling.
“That’s just what Lady Portia said!” the maid said, delight in her voice.
“And”—Stephen hesitated, praying that the eagerness in his voice was not audible—“are there any other children Lady Portia is fond of?”
He held his breath for what felt like a lifetime, though it was likely only a heartbeat or two.
“There’s the Bensons’ little one,” Tilly said. “Ever so sweet, she is. Sarah told me—”
“Who’s Sarah?”
“The head housemaid at Forthridge. She said that the Bensons had been wanting a child for years, and nobody thought they’d be able to have any, seeing as Mrs. Benson had been ill after they married. And—” She broke off, blushing. “Forgive me. Mrs. Platt’s told me I shouldn’t gossip.”
Stephen lowered his voice. “I’ll not tell Mrs. Platt,” he said. “And it’s not gossip if you, or Lady Portia, have good intentions.”
“Lady Portia dotes on the child,” Tilly said. “Such a tiny baby, she is!”
Stephen’s heart gave a flutter.
A baby…
Surely it was merely a coincidence?
“She?” he whispered.
Tilly nodded. “A baby girl. Gentlefolk don’t tend to take to the little ones, but Lady Portia has taken such an interest in the child. And no wonder. She’s the sweetest little angel, and is so good for her ladyship, never fussing when she holds her. Lady Portia gets so sad when it’s time to leave her, but she talks to Miss Price about her next visit. That’s her lady’s maid, you know—Miss Price. She’s promised to show me how to dress Lady Portia and fix her hair, so I might take up a position as a lady’s maid myself. Though, of course, no lady would want me, what with my foot.”
“I think you’d make an excellent lady’s maid.”
Tilly gave a shy smile. Then she glanced toward the house and sighed. “I ought to be getting along,” she said. “Will you be all right now, sir?”
“Tilly…” Stephen hesitated, the question on his lips—but in asking it, would he reveal too much?
“Yes, sir?”
“The child,” he said, his mouth dry. “I mean, the baby…”
