Page 28 of The Duke's Unclaimed Bride
“That’s a lot of land.”
“A lot of people rely on me to do my work,” he replied, frowning.
“Do you have a lot of work?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “So let me get back to it.”
“Tilly! There you are!” Edith called, panting softly. It would seem Tilly had a talent for making people chase her. “Your Grace, I’m so sorry?—”
“I told you she’s not to be in here,” Laurence said coldly.
“I am aware. I did not intentionally lose track of her,” Edith sighed, exasperated.
“You need to—” He stopped, taking in her visage.
Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were soft with apology. The words stuck in his throat.
“I told you, I’m sorry,” Edith huffed, stepping into the room.
“Sorry isn’t enough,” he bit out, standing to face her.
“There isn’t a lot else I can say!” Edith snapped. She was close now.
“You don’t need to say anything. Just keep her away from here,” he growled, leaning toward her until they were only an inch apart.
He watched her swallow hard, her cheeks reddening. The blush both suited and softened her.
Something warm stirred in his chest. She confused him, this woman. More than he liked to admit.
“What’s this?” Tilly asked.
Both adults turned to find her standing tiptoe on a chair, reaching up. She had spotted an old plate with a painting of a carnation. It was one of the few items Laurence still had of his mother.
“Tilly! No!” Edith shouted.
But a determined Tilly ignored the warning and tried to grab the plate by swatting it loose with her fingers. It wobbled on its stand, then it fell off the shelf.
Laurence’s stomach dropped, and he lunged forward, grabbing it in midair before it could shatter on the wooden floor.
“Tilly!” Edith gasped, pulling the girl off the chair.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Laurence hissed. “You need to be more careful.”
Tilly looked at him, her eyes widening and her brow furrowing. After a moment, she ran out of the study.
Laurence’s heart clenched painfully, but he could not find it in him to be sorry for scolding her.
That girl needs discipline.
He turned to Edith to reprimand her, but she was already glaring at him coldly and ran out of his study after Tilly.
Laurence stumbled back to his chair and sat down, holding the plate in his hands. His words echoed in his mind.
When had he started acting like his father?
He looked down at the plate in his hands. A carnation… the flower of his mother’s birth month. He knew so little about the woman who had birthed him, but he knew she had left thingslike this for him to cherish. These were breadcrumbs to gather, to create a picture of who she was in his mind, the only way she’d know how.
