"Mother, may I enter?" Nate knocked on her door.

"You may not, Nathaniel."

Nate rolled his eyes and pushed open the door.

"Why haven't you taken your supper yet?"

"I am not hungry."

"Mother..."

"I do not wish to speak with you."

"Why not?"

"Because you hired that damned woman!"

Of course, Winterbottom had told her.

Nate sighed and sat beside her on the bed. He took her wrinkled hand in his. She tried to pull it away but he didn't loosen his grip.

"Look at me," he cajoled.

She grunted and finally turned to look at him.

"I am only concerned about you," he said sincerely.

Her face softened. "Your concern is misplaced. A companion is not what I need."

"Then what is it? What do you need?"

She opened her mouth but then swallowed back her retort.

"It's nothing."

"Do this for me. Give her a chance. If you don't like her after two weeks, we'll send her away."

"I'm confident that I won't like her after her first day here."

"But I have already paid her the wages for the first two weeks. We can't let all that money go to waste, now can we?"

"Of course not. I'll make her work, you count on it," his mother huffed. Nate laughed and nodded, not sure if he should feel sorry for Miss Butterworth or his mother.

"Does your leg still hurt?"

"It's better now that you're here," she smiled.

Nate squeezed her hand.

He didn't know what to say. He loved his mother, but ever since his father had passed a few years back, he had become busy with his new responsibilities and he hadn't been there for his mother. They had drifted apart and now Nate didn't know if he could bridge the distance even he tried.

He knew he spent more time in London than he needed to. But he preferred it that way.

Besides, it would only be this way for a few more months. Then he'd get married to Sophia and his mother wouldn't be lonely again.

Although she wasn't very pleased with his choice for a wife, Nate didn't fret about it. He knew his mother would never find any woman good enough for him. And he would be thirty in a year, it was imperative that he married and produced heirs while he was still in his prime.

Besides, Sophia was perfect. She was beautiful—a diamond of the first water—unlike that Butterworth woman. And she was polished and poised—not clumsy like the woman he'd encountered that morning. And most of all, she was the daughter of a Duke. She deserved to be his duchess. She didn't make his pulse quicken with desire but at least she wouldn't embarrass him—unlike Butterworth.

Why was he even thinking about his mother's temporary companion, he thought.

The woman was trouble and he was overwrought—that was it.

"Will you eat now?"

His mother nodded.

"Good. Good night, mother," he kissed her cheek.

"Good night, Nathaniel," she replied but Nate didn't miss the disappointment on her face.

He merely nodded awkwardly and turned around to leave.

**********

"How's the bread, nana? I added some special herbs in the dough," Fiona asked her nana as she settled onto the creaking chair of their small dining table.

"It's alright," she huffed.

"You're still angry about this morning?"

"Yes."

"Nana! I wasn't hungry."

"You didn't eat because you knew there'd be no food left for me if you did," her nana retorted shrewdly.

Fiona's cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

"It's alright now. I got two week's wages in advance. I hardly know how to spend it all," she said cheerfully. Nana rolled her eyes but let it go.

"I forgot to ask. How was the Duke? Was he very handsome?"

Fiona began to cough.

"Here," Nana offered her a glass of water. "Are you alright?"

Fiona nodded, her eyes watering from coughing too much.

How was she to explain to Nana what the Duke looked like? How was she to tell that she'd never seen a man more handsome?

Fiona had never seen eyes that beautiful shade of blue. And she'd never seen such lips on a man—wide and firm. With his black hair and straight nose, he'd looked positively sinful.

And so Fiona changed the topic because there was no way in hell that she could explain to her Nana that for the first time in her life, she'd been affected by someone. Not by his title and certainly not by his less than gentlemanly behaviour, but by his presence—his personality. He exuded...something. And so she'd found herself tongue tied.

Anyhow, the Duke only had his looks to recommend him, she consoled herself.

She'd had half a mind to stomp out of ridiculously gorgeous man's house and never look back. But she'd swallowed her pride and decided to stay.

Not that he wanted you to, her conscience whispered.

Well, she'd needed the money.

She'd been the sole earning member in her family ever since her parents had passed away when she'd been fifteen. Her father had been a vicar and had had few savings.

They'd managed to scrape by—Nana and her—for a few years. But then it had become imperative that she work. Nana was too old to do anything. She hated watching Fiona work but they had no other choice and she knew that.

And so, this wasn't the first time Fiona found herself swallowing her pride.

But she was happy. And she was grateful.