A Vixen for the Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 2)
A Vixen for the Duke: Chapter 19

Morgan started at a knock on the door to his study. “Come in.” He sighed, setting his papers down.

It was just as well. He hadn’t been able to concentrate much since Daphne had thrown her daily tantrum. One of the worst parts about growing up was realising when hope was futile. Sometimes, there was nothing that could be done. The desire to change things was admirable, but one of the greatest follies of youth.

The footman opened the door and bowed. “Your Grace,” he said. “A young lady requests to speak with Lord Murrey.”

Morgan frowned. He didn’t know if he could face Harriet right now. Facing her would require him to face the inevitability of their future. They couldn’t marry as he’d planned to ask her. Not when everyone else was suffering so greatly.

“Did you explain to Miss Harriet that my uncle is not taking visitors?”

“I tried, Your Grace. The lady is very stubborn.”

Morgan scoffed. “Very,” he muttered. “You may send her in. I will explain the situation to her.”

The footman bowed, this time not bothering to check whether Morgan truly wanted him to send Harriet to his study, alone. Morgan had already had her in his study before. It wasn’t as if they were going to take advantage of their privacy today. There were much more pressing matters.

After a moment, Harriet appeared in the doorway, her hair frizzy and voluminous and the bottom of her dress soaked. She slipped her cloak off her shoulders and slung it over her arm.

Morgan stayed seated at his desk. “You cannot talk to my uncle right now.”

“Why not?”

“Why—” Morgan narrowed his eyes. “Because he’s grieving. Allow the man to have some time alone.”

“But I have something to say,” Harriet stated.

She walked inside and dropped her cloak onto the seat in front of the desk. Morgan swallowed hard. That was the seat that Oliver always sat in, reading the paper while his nephew was working. Morgan had initially been so annoyed by the sound of the newspaper rattling in the air as his uncle’s hands shook, but on days like today, Oliver’s absence made the study suffocating.

“That is wonderful, Harriet, but now is not the time,” Morgan dismissed her, trying his best to sort his papers into stacks of paid and unpaid bills. Organising his desk hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind lately.

Harriet was a lot of things, and perhaps now she realised just how much Oliver and Bridget cared for each other. But it was too little, too late. There was nothing that could be done now besides taking care of their own families. It was their duty. No amount of talking could fix the situation. That much had been made abundantly clear.

“Morgan,” she whispered, leaning over his desk, “I am serious. I have something to say.”

Morgan dropped his pen, his teeth clenching instinctively as if her words were a punch to his face. “What? What could you possibly say? Arrangements have been made, wrongs have been righted, and now we must wait and hope that Daphne can forgive the mistakes that were made. It is unfortunate, but it is the only solution.”

Harriet shook her head. “You are not giving up.”

Morgan huffed. “I am, actually. Shall I press the issue further?”

“Absolutely, you should!”

“No, Harriet!” Morgan stood up, pressing his fingertips against the desk. On the other side, Harriet stood her ground, staring at him, her nose twitching in annoyance. He lowered his voice. He had let his frustrations get the best of him. “Daphne’s happiness is the most important thing to my uncle. He has always prioritised her above everything else. She—” Both of them winced as a crack of thunder roared outside. Just then, rain began pelting the window. He sighed. “I simply mean to say that if Daphne is unhappy, then my uncle would never put his desires above hers, in good conscience.”

“Yes,” Harriet said, her eyes fixed on his, looking stern and gentle all at once. “That is why it is up to us to do the work that a father cannot do. We have the power to ensure his happiness in a way that he could not do for himself.”

Morgan sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I cannot jeopardise Daphne’s happiness.”

“No, you cannot, but might we be able to say something that can make the situation right for everyone? I know what to say to Daphne.”

Morgan’s lips drew into a thin line. He reached out his hand and placed it over Harriet’s. “I appreciate your optimism, but the longer we drag this out, the more painful it will be for everyone involved.”

Harriet looked down, staring at his hand. Her lips trembled. Morgan knew she was just as disappointed as he was. He knew Daphne better than anyone did. Sometimes, he wondered if he knew her better than his uncle. There were things she would confide in him about, but not her father. It was hard growing up, and Daphne had said exactly what bothered her at the breakfast table the other day. The little girl felt as though no one understood what it felt like to be her and to grow up as the only woman in a household full of men.

“I don’t want to give up.” Harriet shook her head. The rims of her eyes glistened with tears, but she held herself together.

Morgan opened his mouth to respond, but a voice interrupted him. “Your Grace!”

He pulled his hand away from Harriet’s. He stepped out from behind the desk and stood beside Harriet as Miss Bell rushed inside the study. Her face was distraught, her eyes wide and her lips pulled back in dismay. “I cannot find Lady Daphne anywhere! I have checked the estate over multiple times and it’s…” She glanced out the window, frowning at the heavy rain and the dark sky.

Immediately, Morgan set off for the door. He looked down the hall, glancing at his footman. It wasn’t safe for Daphne to be out in the storm.

“Will you have my horse prepared? No saddle,” he commanded.

The footman nodded and hurried off to do his master’s bidding.

“You cannot go alone.” Harriet stopped the Duke. “I am going with you.”

She grabbed her cloak from the chair and hurried after him. Morgan didn’t think it was a great idea to bring Harriet out into the storm either, but he knew by now that once she had made up her mind, she wasn’t one to be stopped.

At once, he opened the back door and stepped out onto the protected terrace. Outside the safety of the terrace, rain poured down, and a flash of lightning illuminated the horizon. “Are you sure you don’t want my footmen to get you back to your aunt’s house?”

Harriet shook her head. “Finding Lady Daphne is important to you, so I can assure you that it is the only thing on my mind at this very moment.”

Morgan nodded, his chest tightening at her words. He turned, hearing the hoofbeats of his horse rounding the corner and coming up alongside the terrace. He reached down, intertwining his fingers with Harriet’s. He pulled her out into the rain with him.

It was coming down hard, slapping against his cheeks and shattering on impact. Within only a few moments, he was completely soaked. He hopped up, hauling his legs over the horse. Then, he reached out his hand and helped Harriet mount the horse and sit sidesaddle behind him. He looked at her over his shoulder. “Hold onto me!”

Harriet immediately wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his shoulder. Surely, Daphne was not visiting the rabbits, as that would require her to see Lady Moore. There was one other place that Daphne liked to visit whenever she was sad.

The cabin by the cherry grove had been one of Morgan’s favourite places when he was younger. He had gone out there not only to think but to spend some time away from his family when he had been just a boy. He and his best friend, Lord Hartley, had spent much time there enjoying the simplicity of life. Years ago, he had made the mistake of introducing Daphne to his secret hideout. She took quite a liking to it. It had occurred to him that he’d already passed the cabin down, something he hadn’t expected to do until he fathered his own children. But little had he realised that Daphne would be his first introduction to fatherhood, whether he had been ready or not.

The horse galloped across the property, her hooves hitting the ground hard and sending mud flying. Harriet held on tightly. The cabin wasn’t too far away. Once they passed by the lake, which was rippling with rainfall, the grove became visible just up ahead. This late in the season, the cherry trees had shed their flowers, and the pink petals rested on the ground in neat rows. To the left of the grove, the cabin stood. Sure enough, a small light was flickering in the cabin window.

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. Daphne was there. Now, he just had to convince her to return home with him.

He slid off the horse and guided her over to the trunk of a tall willow tree, whose long branches provided some relief from the storm. He tied the horse and helped Harriet back onto the ground. Her cloak clung to her tiny frame, and she shivered, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest.

“She’s here,” Morgan said assuredly. He turned, taking a deep breath as he approached the cabin door.

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