Page 41 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
Worry plagued them all as the days of William’s amnesia turned into over a week. What had begun as a temporary ruse until he remembered was turning into something far worse: their lives. The familiar guilt over her deception slithered along Hattie’s consciousness. She was not built for such lies, but what could she do? She didn’t dare tell him the truth now. Did she? No, she told herself. They had to continue as a united front.
She squared her shoulders, gathered up her courage and exited her chamber as the early dawn was breaking over the canopy of trees that shaded the long drive leading up to the Manor. Wall scones flickered in the shadows, since they had yet to be extinguished. This was still her favourite time of day and she continued to rise early even though there was no needto. Millie usually slept until eight and her nurse cared for her until they ventured on their morning walks around the lake after breaking their fast. The late spring weather continued to co-operate in the mornings, allowing them daily adventures with the ducks, rabbits and whatever other creatures ventured out at that time.
And although Millie still had not spoken, the other morning as Hattie sang a little song her mother had taught her, she could have sworn she heard a soft low hum as if Millie was wishing to join her. Hattie longed to hear the voice of her young charge as much as she wished her father would remember who he was. She sent up her daily morning prayer for just that as she descended the steps to the main level of the Manor and followed the sounds of Mrs Chisholm and the other servants bustling about with their early morning duties.
‘Good morning, my lady,’ Mr Simmons said, nodding to Hattie as she turned down a hallway towards the library to pick out a new book.
‘And to you, too, Mr Simmons,’ Hattie replied with a smile. His Grace’s butler had softened even more towards her since the accident and he had been kind and encouraging in her expanded role as pretend betrothed. He had been the one to nestle a silver salver just for her correspondence in the parlour next to William’s. While the gesture was small, it had great meaning, and Hattie appreciated his acceptance of her.
‘His Grace is up this morning, if you would like to take tea with him in his study,’ he offered.
Hattie’s steps faltered and she stopped. ‘Is he unwell?’ Her pulse increased. He had not risen so early since before his accident and she was not certain if it suggested improvement or ailment.
Mr Simmons smiled. ‘He seems quite eager to join you and Lady Millie on your walk this morning.’
Hattie’s heart soared in her chest. ‘That is a glorious sign indeed. Some tea would be wonderful and I will join him in his study. Thank you.’ She walked with purpose down the remaining hallway until she reached the study.
William stood staring out the window upon the lake, his back to her and in slight profile. Even now with his simple trousers, tunic and waistcoat, he was regal. He didn’t need a cravat or fancy jacket to exude his rank. He simply looked the part of a duke and she had almost grown used to his handsomeness.Almost.She took a steadying breath, knocked on the open door and waited for William to turn from the window.
When he faced her, she met his gaze and smiled, her toes tingling. She still was never quite prepared for the attraction she felt and the winsome looks he gifted her. Ones that she reminded herself she had never earned as she wasnothis betrothed. She smothered down the guilt that bucked up in her again and assumed her role: that of the loving and devoted Lady Penelope Denning.
‘Good morning, dear,’ he said and came to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and pulling her into his side to greet her as he had been wont to do over the last few days. The same longing bloomed in her chest each time, wishing it all were real and that this was her life and he her actual betrothed. She closed her eyes, savouring the feeling of being cherished and wishing what he felt for her was real and true despite knowing it wasn’t. She would allow herself these moments for she knew they were fleeting. One day he would remember who he was and most likely hate her for what she had done: pretend to love him.
But part of her knew it was not pretend at all.
‘How are you feeling today?’ she cooed, leaning into his warm, strong hold, something she would miss when it was gone. She shoved the worry aside.
‘Better now that you are here with me.’ He ran a hand over her hair and his thumb skimmed the top of her ear before resting along the back of her neck. She sighed aloud and he met her gaze, his eyes curious and sparkling.
‘I wish I could remember how I was able to win you, Lady Penelope.’ His voice lowered. ‘You are the most gorgeous creature, and I find…it is hard to subdue the—’
A knock sounded at the door and they froze before William released his hold on her. Whatever he was about to say was lost. The moment severed.
‘Your Grace,’ Simmons offered with a nod before he brought in their tea service. He set it on the table between the sofa and oversized chair and left them.
William cleared his throat. ‘Tea?’
‘Of course,’ Hattie replied, creating some distance between them as they settled across from each other around the table. The distance helped clear her muddled thoughts and she focused on preparing their cups. William had a hidden penchant for a cube of sugar and splash of milk, which was exactly how he’d taken his tea before. Evidently, his body remembered much of what his mind could not.
She handed him his saucer and cup carefully, their hands brushing briefly, just enough to awaken that longing within her once more.
He is not truly yours. It is best you remember that.
She knew one morning he would remember and she would be just the governess once more at best or dismissed at worst. Who knew how he might react once he regained his memory and realised the truth behind who she was and the lies he had been told? But could she not enjoy the ruse while it lasted, especially if it aided his recovery? She sipped her tea and pretended she wasn’t completely deluding herself.
Which she knew she was.
‘Will you tell me of her? Of what happened?’ he asked, glancing back at the portrait of his late wife over the hearth.
Hattie choked on her tea, caught off guard by his question. Perhaps the universe was reminding her of the dangerous game she played. The poor man had been deceived before. How would he feel once he realised he had been deceived again by a woman he believed loved him?
‘Although Daphne has told me some of it, I sense she is reluctant to tell me all. Was it truly so bad what happened between us?’ His gaze searched hers, a notch woven deep between his blue eyes as he leaned forward in his seat.
Her stomach flipped and lurched.
Why did he have to be so…handsome…and what did she dare tell him?
‘I do not know if such talk will aid your recovery,’ she began, cutting a fine line between the truths she knew. Her cup clattered against the saucer.
