The Confessions of a Duchess by Nicola Cornick

felt unsettled and disturbed and she knew that the reason was Dexter. She had never imagined that he would come to Fortune’s Folly. She had never thought to see him again.
    Dexter could never be allowed to know about Hattie for if the truth ever came out her daughter would be branded a bastard and her life ruined forever.
    Laura felt cold even to think of it. She shuddered, feeling the goose bumps breaking out on her skin. She did not have any fears for herself or her own reputation if the truth were known; that mattered nothing compared to Hattie’s future. Nor did she believe that Dexter would ever deliberately hurt an innocent child, as Charles had threatened to do. But if Dexter knew Hattie was his daughter he might want some say in her upbringing. He might wish to acknowledge her openly. Infidelity and illegitimacy had made his family a laughingstock throughout his life. His parents’ offspring had borne the stigma of not knowing the truth of their lineage and she could not imagine Dexter would wish the same fate on his own children. He might suggest that Hattie be brought up with his own family.
    He might try to take Hattie away from her.
    A powerful wave of protectiveness swamped Laura. She would die before she relinquished her child. And she would do everything in her power to make sure that no rumor or whisper of scandal would ever taint Hattie’s future with her mother’s disgrace.
    So she could never tell Dexter about his daughter. Hattie had to be protected at all costs. She had to remain forever unquestionably and officially the offspring of the late Duke of Cole. For the past three years Laura’s sole purpose had been to shield and safeguard her child and that would not change now.
    Laura walked slowly through the connecting door that linked her bedchamber with her daughter’s room. Her sister-in-law, who had made sure that her children’s nursery was not only on a different floor but in a different wing of the house, had told her quite plainly that she was mad to spend so much time with Hattie.
    “You are storing up trouble for yourself in future,” she prophesied gloomily. “The child will grow up thinking it natural to spend time with you and will be forever hanging on your skirts. Best to get her a good nurse and then leave her upbringing to the servants.” Which, Laura thought, probably accounted for the dislike in which her niece and nephew seemed to hold their parents.
    She picked up the framed charcoal drawing of Hattie that stood on the chest of drawers and studied it for a moment. Hattie was smiling, all round pink cheeks, tiny rosebud mouth and tumbled black curls. She did not look like Dexter. She had Laura’s hazel eyes and Laura’s grandfather’s coloring, but apart from that Laura thought she resembled no one in particular. She was her own person.

    Laura’s heart eased slightly. Perhaps Dexter would not even recognize Hattie were he to see her in the village. Why should he, when she did not resemble him? Perhaps, Laura thought with a flash of bitterness, he would not believe Hattie to be his even if she did tell him. Since he thought Laura herself to be a faithless wanton he would think Hattie’s father could be one of any number of men.
    But even so, she could not risk it. She would not hide Hattie away, of course, for people would notice that and talk, but she would have to be very careful.
    She was so deep in her thoughts that she missed the sound of the front door opening and footsteps on the stair. A moment later the door of the room burst open and Hattie flung herself on Laura, a sticky, stripy piece of candy clutched in her hand. Judging by the way her cheeks were bulging, Laura suspected that the rest of the sweet—a rather large piece by the looks of it—was already in her mouth. She bent and scooped Hattie up in her arms.
    “Mama, Mama! Candy!”
    “So I see,” Laura said, smiling over her daughter’s curls at the nursemaid, who had followed Hattie up the stairs