Page 9 of The Duke's Lesson in Love

She shifted ever so slightly towards the boy and began slicing his meat into small pieces. From the stiff set of her neck and shoulders, he guessed she was trying to show indifference. The spark when they had touched as he’d helped her into the carriage said differently. She was attracted to him.

“Do you like drawing too, Miss Fields?”

“I’m afraid I am not a skilled artist. However, I do enjoy all forms of art.”

“There are more than one?” Edwin’s eyes widened.

He nodded. “There is music, the theater, books, and poetry—”

“Mamon Sadie reads me books and tells me lots of stories!”

“There are also different types of artwork.”

“At your home?”

“At our home,” he corrected.

Gill cringed when Edwin stabbed his chicken with the first fork within reach before taking a bite from the meat. “You are the son of a Duke,” he said, fixing his gaze on Miss Fields. “One of your lessons should have been on the proper use of cutlery.”

A dejected Edwin put down his fork and Gill immediately regretted his harsh words. Edwin’s lack of skills pointed directly at his failure as a father, his ineptitude to connect with his son. He had failed his son. What if his decision to let the child remain in the orphanage was a mistake, a misstep to have put Edwin’s emotional well-being before all else?

No. In his heart he did not believe that.

He took a steadying breath to calm the roaring emotions. “My apologies—”

“He is only a boy, Your Grace,” Miss Fields hissed before he finished his sentence. The next words were icy. “We do our best.”

“I did not mean to imply—” He flinched.

“Our resources are limited. You would know this if you bothered to visit your son.”

His temper rose. “Do not speak of things you know nothing of.”

“He was taught lessons pertinent to his circumstances,” she said icily. “All the children are.”

“At five, my lessons included sums, French, and geography,” he said angrily. His fist clenched the cutlery. “Those subjects were before luncheon.” He glared at her.

She glared back at him. “I trust you can navigate your way to the men’s parlor if watching us eat is burdensome.” She rubbed Edwin’s slumped shoulders with soothing caresses.

Gill scrubbed his face. He was not wrong in pointing out that Edwin’s lessons were lacking, but perhaps he needed a lesson in delivery. If anything, he was more convinced he lacked the skill needed to be a good father and the last thing he wanted was to be hard, unloving, and negligent like the man who sired him.

Gill made a mental note not to criticize Miss Fields on the subject again. After all, she was correct. He was not physically involved in his son’s upbringing. Besides, he not only needed her help, but they were about to spend a great deal of time together. He preferred not to be at constant odds. It seemed his solicitor was right about what Edwin needed.

“I will have my meal delivered to the parlor.” Gill raked his gaze at the two people sitting across the table, but his eyes settled on Miss Fields’ challenging glare. “Heed my words, Miss Fields, as of this moment, your nanny services are no longer needed.”

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