Page 25 of The Duke's Unclaimed Bride
“Indeed. Children are remarkably adaptable creatures,” the housekeeper agreed.
“You are correct,” Edith said as they watched Tilly explore, trailing her fingers along rows of robust green bushes and breathing in the heady scents of orange, red, and purple blooms.
“How large is the garden?” Edith asked.
“Nearly twenty acres,” the housekeeper replied with a smile. “The gardeners certainly do have a task keeping it all neat andorderly, but they do good work, even though there’s few of them.”
“I can see that,” Edith murmured as she looked out over the estate.
“That direction leads to a woodland walk,” the housekeeper said, gesturing toward a copse of manicured trees. “And that way leads to the hedge maze.”
“There’s a hedge maze?” Tilly squealed, bursting out from behind a shrub.
“Oh yes, there is!” the housekeeper said with a slight chuckle.
“Can we go look now?” Tilly asked eagerly, scrambling back to the two women.
“Another day, Tilly. The sun is getting high, and we haven’t got any parasols,” Edith replied, glancing up at the sky.
It was a cloudless day, slowly warming from late spring to summer.
“Let us go back inside,” the housekeeper said with a smile.
Tilly ran after them, looking around the parlor they’d entered.
“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing up at one of the portraits.
The housekeeper stiffened, looking at the portrait of an older man with Laurence’s blue eyes. “That was the old Duke,” she replied gently.
“Old duke?” Tilly frowned.
“Likely His Grace’s father or grandfather,” Edith interjected, noticing how uncomfortable the housekeeper looked. “Come on, let’s look around more,” she added, guiding Tilly out of the room.
The housekeeper nodded gratefully at Edith, then led them through more of the estate and its beautifully manicured grounds.
Edith kept Tilly’s attention diverted to avoid any further mention of the old Duke. She knew well enough that when a servant flinched at the mere mention of a former master, there was usually a good reason to take heed.
Those eyes, though. That familiar, cold gaze that Laurence had obviously inherited. Did he see the ghost of his father each time he looked in the mirror?
The day wore on, and soon it was lunchtime. The trio entered the dining room, and Tilly and Edith took their seats.
Tilly glanced sadly at the empty spot where Laurence should have been, then looked back at her place at the table, where a steaming bowl of carrot soup had been set.
Edith reached for her spoon but froze when she saw Tilly grabbing the sides of her bowl. “Oh, no, Tilly. We use a spoon,” she said, holding up her own spoon to demonstrate.
Tilly frowned. “Why?”
“It is the proper way to eat soup, and you’re less likely to spill it on your clothes.” Edith smiled.
“Oh, I see.”
Tilly picked up her spoon, dipped it in the soup, the brought the front of it to her lips.
Edith winced slightly. “Ah… Tilly, not like that either.”
“I’m using a spoon, though!” the young girl groaned. “Are there rules for spoons?”
“Yes.” Edith chuckled softly. “We drink soup from the side of the spoon, not the front.”
