Once she was sure that the Duke had left, Fiona landed on the bench on her bottom.

Clearly this had been a mistake. A very large—enormous error of judgement on both their parts. And she was just as responsible for it as the Duke.

Fiona had never been kissed before and she'd never felt like kissing anyone either. But when the Duke had bent closer—just a little, she'd wanted to kiss him. She'd laughed with him...and what a lovely laugh he had—it had made her feel special.

He kissed the way he seemed to do everything else...passionately, thoroughly and sincerely. The mere touch of his lips against hers had made her want to climb atop his lap and never leave.

He'd kissed her and he'd whispered her name. And he'd called her Fiona, not Miss Butterworth the way he usually did.

That had to mean something, didn't it?

Hope unfurled in her bosom but she squelched it ruthlessly.

He'd said that this wouldn't happen again which meant he didn't want this to turn into anything more.

It meant that he'd kissed her and then remembered that he had a fiancé waiting for him. And he'd never jilt the daughter of a Duke for the impoverished one of a deceased vicar.

And he was probably in love with his Lady.

That thought brought a swift stab of pain. The pain brought on tears she hadn't known she'd been holding.

Fiona furiously wiped the dampness off her cheeks.

She had brought this upon herself, she chided herself. She had made the mistake of imagining a romance where there had never been scope for one.

She got up and slowly made her way outside the maze. Outside, she found the duchess awake, sipping tea.

"I apologise for being gone so long, your grace. I got lost in the maze."

"It's alright, people often get lost in there," the duchess eyed her shrewdly.

Fiona was positive the Duke hadn't told his mother of what had happened in there but the knowing way she was looking at her...

Oh she was being silly.

"It has grown windy, shall we go inside now?" Fiona asked, fussing with the Duchess's shawl.

"Yes."

Fiona was solemn the rest of the evening. And if the duchess noted her pensive mood, she made no comment on it.

Soon it began to rain and Fiona had to wait for it to let until she could leave. The duchess offered her carriage of course, but Fiona had declined. She didn't want to take any unnecessary favours.

And then it had grown too dark.

"I cannot possibly in good conscience let you go alone now!"

"I'll be fine, your grace. You worry needlessly."

"No, my decision is final. You cannot even take a carriage now, the roads are completely ruined and it would be foolish to risk travelling that path. You will simply have to stay here tonight. I shall ask Miss Perkins to prepare a room for you."

"But—"

"It is an order." The Duchess's expression was haughty, making Fiona swallow her protests.

"Then I do not really have a choice, do I?" Fiona grumbled and settled into her chair.

"Not one," she smiled smugly. "What about your grandmother? Will she be alright?"

"Oh yes. Nana Jeanette is used to it because my previous employer was very sickly towards the end and I would often stay the night with her. And she's my great grandmother," Fiona grinned.

The duchess raised her eyebrows at that but didn't comment.

"Are you ready to take your supper, your grace?"

"Yes. You will eat with me as well."

"As you wish," Fiona smiled and stood up to ring for a maid. It pleased her immensely that the woman was growing more comfortable with her. And not just because that meant she could keep her position as her companion. About that though...

"Why aren't you eating? Is something troubling you, girly?" the duchess questioned after a while, having noticed Fiona pushing the food around her plate.

Fiona hesitated only a moment before speaking. "Actually, yes. The fortnight the Duke had given me to prove myself will end in three days. So what do you plan to do, your grace? Will I keep my position here or will I be asked to leave?"

"You're forthright," the duchess snorted.

"Well?" Fiona prodded impatiently.

"You'd be a fool if you hadn't figured it out until now. And I doubt you're a fool," she smiled.

"So I'm hoping that you want me to stay?" Fiona raised a brow.

"I do."

Fiona let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"Thank you, your grace. You don't know how much I need this position."

"I can guess. But I suspect I need you more."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh it's nothing."

"Oh no, you don't. What is it?"

"So you think you can be impertinent just because your position here is secure now?" the duchess huffed.

"But I was impertinent even before that, wasn't I?" Fiona countered with a smile.

"Yes," the duchess chuckled. "Very well, though I doubt you'd understand."

"Try me."

"You see, Nate and I don't share a very good relationship. So having you around is a great comfort."

"What? But I always see him asking after you and—"

"He does care about me. And he is good son. But we hardly have any sort of relationship anymore. Why do you think he wanted to hire a companion so desperately? He knew I needed someone. And he isn't willing to be there for me. He isn't willing to let me be there for him either."

Fiona looked on in confusion. She'd never guessed that such turmoil existed between the mother and son.

"Have you tried talking to him about this?"

"You want me to tell him that I'm lonely and want him to spend more time with me? That I miss him?" the Duchess looked positively appalled at the prospect of admitting her weakness.

"Well, yes. How else is he supposed to know?"

She'd never understand these people of rank, Fiona thought. She'd never faced such problems with her parents when they'd lived or even her nana.

"Oh he knows. I've seen the guilt on his face every time he leaves on his unnecessary jaunts to London."

"He didn't go to London once ever since I've come."

"That's because he feels duty bound to stay—with me being unwell and all. Also, it's his engagement ball in a few days. It will follow the week long house party."

Fiona digested that bit of information, disturbed by the churning in her belly.

Then she looked at the duchess's forlorn face and immediately chastised herself for being so selfish.

She'd been wrong about the woman. A companion was not what she needed, it was her son that she wanted. But she was too bloody stubborn—like her son—to admit it. And Fiona would be damned if she didn't at least try to fix what had been broken.