Page 62 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
Hattie shifted Millie’s weight against him, no longer able to hold her emotion. She had to leave. She could not be pulled in again by his charms and promises. They had found Millie and she would explain to her tomorrow that she had to leave and this time for good. But that she would write to her and visit if she could.
She carefully removed the blanket from her and stood.
‘We will speak tomorrow and I will explain to Millie as best I can. Goodnight, Your Grace.’ She gifted him a small bow and left, ignoring the sweet sound of her given name on his lips as he called out for her to stay one last time.
William sipped his tea and went through his prepared statement for Hattie as best he could. She was reasonable. She would stay.
Or at least he hoped she would.
She was what he had always wanted and she was right. He’d loved her until he’d feared her lies, her rank and lack of social standing. His father would be ashamed of what he’d done. But didn’t he also deserve a bit of leniency? He’d lost his memory. He’d been lied to. He’d been confused.
But he’d also been cruel. Like Cecily. He shivered at the comparison despite its accuracy. It was then he heard voices outside.
‘I have spoken to Millie, Mrs Chisholm. All I need do is speak to His Grace. Is he about?’
‘Yes, Miss Potts. In his study.’
William stacked his correspondence neatly, stood and straightened his cravat and jacket, preparing to offer an apology and his heart to Hattie. Yesterday showed him that she wasn’t ever after his money or standing, but cared deeply for his daughter and he hoped she still cared…for him. Daphne wasright. They were a match and, as unintended as it might have been, he had fallen for his governess.
She entered the study and the sight of her in her simple navy day dress, one that he had purchased for her role as Lady Penelope Denning, reminded him of the ease they had once had with one another, starting their days together in his study, when he’d believed she was his betrothed. She stood before him and smiled.
How he hoped she would agree to become his betrothed for real now.
‘I am off, Your Grace. I spoke with Millie, so she understands. There should be no more running away.’ Her words had tumbled out before he’d even uttered a syllable of his pretty speech.
He stood frozen, his mouth hanging open. He must look like a dolt.
‘Your Grace?’ she asked, her brow creasing.
‘You are leaving?’ he asked, still confused. He tried to remember the words he had crafted, but every syllable fled his mind. His thoughts were blank parchment.
‘Yes,’ she replied with a nod. ‘I do not wish to confuse Millie further. You are well and I am destined to be Miss Hattie Potts once more.’
‘And you are fine with being Miss Hattie Potts?’ he asked.
‘Why would I not be?’ she asked, pulling back her shoulders. ‘I am capable and I deserve a happy life. You have taught me that.’
‘I have?’ he asked, uncertain where this was headed.
‘Yes, Your Grace. I am lovable, beautiful and will be loved by a man that believes in me and loves me as I am, no matter my birth or standing.’
‘But that man is me, Hattie. I love you. I know you are beautiful and I believe in all that you are and all you can be.’ Hesighed and smiled. Some of his pretty speech had come back to him after all. He reached for her hand.
She pulled away, but met his gaze. ‘You do not truly knowme, Hattie Potts, and I do not trust you after all that has happened.’
He baulked. ‘I do not understand. You do not trust me?’ He’d lost the thread once more.
She crossed her arms against her chest. ‘I am leaving. I do not trust you. It is as simple as that,’ Hattie replied.
‘You—’ he scoffed, hurt and anger rose in him. ‘Youdon’t trustme?’ he accused, pointing a finger to his chest. ‘I was not the one who lied to you.’
‘No. You did lie to me,’ she countered, closing the space between them. ‘You made me believe that you cared for me, but you were like all the rest of them.’
He shook his head confused. ‘All of who?’
‘Men of means. You make promises, pretend you love a woman and then disappear when it suits. You…’ she stammered and then continued. ‘You are like that duck. You find a mate and then abandon the mother to care for the product of your coupling without a thought.’
‘Duck? What bloody duck? What are you carrying on about…?’ He stilled and stared at her. ‘Wait… Are you with child?’
