Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)

Perhaps he didn’t know his mother at all.

She turned to him with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Griffin. I’ve been so worried for you. I knew you were hurting, and I knew the cause must be something horrible. You’ve looked horrible.”

Griff rubbed his face with both hands.

“No, I mean it. Just perfectly wretched.”

He made a gesture of helplessness. “My apologies.”

She sighed. “I was so hoping it wouldn’t come to this. Stay right there.”

She left, and returned within a minute, approaching him where he sat in the center of the room.

From beneath her arm, his mother unfurled the ugliest, most malformed knitted muffler he’d ever seen. She wrapped it once, twice, thrice about his neck.

It was the tightest, warmest hug he’d ever received.

He stared up at her, bewildered. “Where did this come from?”

“The knitting? Or the affection it represents? I’d rather not talk about the knitting. As for the love . . . it’s always been here. Even when we haven’t discussed it.”

He rose to his feet and kissed her on the cheek. “I know.”

For so many years now they’d been all the family each other had. He suspected they’d avoided admitting how much they meant to each other, for the simple fear of acknowledging how close they were to being alone.

She touched one of her cool, papery hands to his face. “My darling boy. I’m so sorry.”

“How did you bear it?” he asked. “How did you bear this three times?”

“Not as bravely as you have. And never alone.” She looked around at the painted walls. “The loss was keen. In my heart, I have a room something like this for each of them. But even in the darkest hours, your father and I took comfort in each other. And in you.”

“In me? God. I never felt good enough to be one son. Let alone take the place of four.”

“I hate that you felt that way. Looking back, we should have been more nurturing. But we were so afraid of coddling you, when we knew the strong man you’d need to become. Left to my own devices, I could have hugged you to my bosom and held you there until your sixteenth birthday.”

“Well.” His mouth pulled to the side. “I suppose I’m glad you resisted that urge.”

She patted his cheek. “Griffin, I’ve always looked at you and seen a generous, good-hearted man. I’ve merely grown impatient waiting for you to see the same.”

“I wanted to be better for her.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “I didn’t hide all this because I was ashamed of Mary Annabel. I was only ashamed of myself, my dissolute life. I’d resolved to make myself a better man. I didn’t want anyone to look at my daughter and see one of my mistakes.”

Mistakes he kept right on making, it seemed.

“She was right,” he said. “Pauline was right about our chances, but she had the blame laid wrong. If society won’t accept her, it’s not her fault. It’s mine. A stodgy, boring sort of nobleman might fall in love with a commoner, and society would give her the benefit of the doubt. An even chance to prove herself, at least. But with my sordid history, people will always assume she’s just a debauched duke’s latest, greatest scandal. She deserves better than that. I want better for her.”

“It’s not too late,” his mother said. “Let her come here. Not just for a week, but months. You can take your place in Lords, and we’ll introduce her to society slowly next year. You’ll see, people will eventually—”

“No. No, that’s just it. She doesn’t want this life, and I don’t blame her. I don’t even want it, but I know it’s my duty now.” He sighed. “There may never be a ninth Duke of Halford, but I want the eighth to be remembered well. For my daughter’s sake.”

“And what about Pauline?”

Pauline, Pauline, Pauline. She’d been gone from his life a matter of hours, and he already missed her so acutely. He would spend his life digging out from landslides.

“I just want all her dreams to come true.”

Had the cottage always been this small?

Pauline stood in the lane, just staring. Uncertain how to approach her own home. Major the guard goose came honking toward her, alerting those within the house.

“Pauline?” Her mother’s face appeared in the window. “Pauline, is that you?”

She dashed a tear from her eye. “Yes, Mum. It’s me. I’m home.”

Later, up in the sleeping loft, Pauline and Daniela hugged and cried. Then they brushed and plaited one another’s hair and laid out their Sunday dresses for the next morning.

As always, Griff’s sovereign went straight in the collection box.

During the church service, Pauline could feel all the curiosity of Spindle Cove focused on her. She knew she’d have to answer a great many questions, but she just wasn’t ready yet.