that as long as he thought of her as Corrie, he would never connect her with his young bride. And perhaps that was to her advantage.
Turning from the window, she crossed back to Caroline’s bedside to look down at the sleeping child. Straightening covers that did not need straightening, she sank into the chair again. To watch Caroline sleep. And to think.
St. Ayers, she had learned from the children, belonged to Marcus. It had been left to him by his father, and their father had merely been watching over it while he was in India. They were hoping that his return hadn’t put an end to them spending their summers here. If she had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t. But there was the rub.
In order for her to have any say about it, she would have to make herself known to Marcus and he would have to acknowledge their marriage. Suppose he didn’t want to? Suppose he had forgotten all about her after Douglas’s death?
The person she had encountered today was a far cry from the person she had known eight years ago. There was a hardness about him, a sense of power and supreme confidence she hadn’t remembered from her interaction with him and Douglas before. It was likely it had been there all along, but had not impinged on her consciousness. On the other hand…
People grew and changed. She knew and accepted that. But had Marcus changed for the better? Had his time in India hardened him on the inside as well as the outside, or did the carefree young man who had been willing to sacrifice his freedom for a mistreated fourteen-year-old still exist beneath the surface?
Marcus didn’t realize he had a shadow until he reached the first floor.
“She’ll be all right, won’t she?” the small voice came from behind him.
Turning, he found Michael following him down the stairs, worry in his violet eyes. His father’s eyes, Marcus thought. Waring eyes. It was the reason he’d never been accepted as his father’s heir. He did not have the Waring eyes.
The first duke of Warringham had possessed those unusual violet-colored eyes, and so had every Waring heir since. The coloring was distinctive enough that when Brand had made his way back to England after having disappeared as a child, one look at him had been enough to prove who he was.
“Of course, she will,” he reassured him. “She only had a few scrapes and nothing was broken.”
He hadn’t realized how much Michael was counting on that reassurance until the small shoulders slumped in relief. Then the child smiled and perked up. “She broke her arm last year. We were at The Downs and Mama said it was a good thing that Uncle Jon was visiting when it happened,” he told Marcus.
“And why was that?”
“Because he’s a doctor.”
They continued down to the ground floor and out the front doors. They walked for a bit, Michael telling him little things about the house and estate he and Caroline had discovered. Marcus listened with half an ear. He was more preoccupied with his reaction to the governess.
He had not imagined the spark that leapt between them, nor had he imagined the tingling that shot up his arm when their hands had brushed. She had not looked at him at all during the exchange and he thought he knew why. Likely she had been startled as well, and was embarrassed by it.
Questioning Michael, he learned the governess, Corrie, was new, and only with them until the other governess, Kenny, returned. In spite of himself, he was intrigued. He wasn’t looking for a dalliance, especially not with the governess. As a member of the staff, she was out of bounds, but he had not dreamt the instant connection he had felt to her. The question he had to ask himself was what, if anything, he should do about it.
Returning to the house, Marcus was certain that Brand was in the library, so that’s where he and Michael were headed.
The library door opened as they reached the first floor landing and the duchess emerged, looking decidedly disheveled. Noticing
Turning from the window, she crossed back to Caroline’s bedside to look down at the sleeping child. Straightening covers that did not need straightening, she sank into the chair again. To watch Caroline sleep. And to think.
St. Ayers, she had learned from the children, belonged to Marcus. It had been left to him by his father, and their father had merely been watching over it while he was in India. They were hoping that his return hadn’t put an end to them spending their summers here. If she had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t. But there was the rub.
In order for her to have any say about it, she would have to make herself known to Marcus and he would have to acknowledge their marriage. Suppose he didn’t want to? Suppose he had forgotten all about her after Douglas’s death?
The person she had encountered today was a far cry from the person she had known eight years ago. There was a hardness about him, a sense of power and supreme confidence she hadn’t remembered from her interaction with him and Douglas before. It was likely it had been there all along, but had not impinged on her consciousness. On the other hand…
People grew and changed. She knew and accepted that. But had Marcus changed for the better? Had his time in India hardened him on the inside as well as the outside, or did the carefree young man who had been willing to sacrifice his freedom for a mistreated fourteen-year-old still exist beneath the surface?
Marcus didn’t realize he had a shadow until he reached the first floor.
“She’ll be all right, won’t she?” the small voice came from behind him.
Turning, he found Michael following him down the stairs, worry in his violet eyes. His father’s eyes, Marcus thought. Waring eyes. It was the reason he’d never been accepted as his father’s heir. He did not have the Waring eyes.
The first duke of Warringham had possessed those unusual violet-colored eyes, and so had every Waring heir since. The coloring was distinctive enough that when Brand had made his way back to England after having disappeared as a child, one look at him had been enough to prove who he was.
“Of course, she will,” he reassured him. “She only had a few scrapes and nothing was broken.”
He hadn’t realized how much Michael was counting on that reassurance until the small shoulders slumped in relief. Then the child smiled and perked up. “She broke her arm last year. We were at The Downs and Mama said it was a good thing that Uncle Jon was visiting when it happened,” he told Marcus.
“And why was that?”
“Because he’s a doctor.”
They continued down to the ground floor and out the front doors. They walked for a bit, Michael telling him little things about the house and estate he and Caroline had discovered. Marcus listened with half an ear. He was more preoccupied with his reaction to the governess.
He had not imagined the spark that leapt between them, nor had he imagined the tingling that shot up his arm when their hands had brushed. She had not looked at him at all during the exchange and he thought he knew why. Likely she had been startled as well, and was embarrassed by it.
Questioning Michael, he learned the governess, Corrie, was new, and only with them until the other governess, Kenny, returned. In spite of himself, he was intrigued. He wasn’t looking for a dalliance, especially not with the governess. As a member of the staff, she was out of bounds, but he had not dreamt the instant connection he had felt to her. The question he had to ask himself was what, if anything, he should do about it.
Returning to the house, Marcus was certain that Brand was in the library, so that’s where he and Michael were headed.
The library door opened as they reached the first floor landing and the duchess emerged, looking decidedly disheveled. Noticing
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