The Duke and the Enchantress

Chapter Six - Violet

Mrs. Short put a swaddled bundle into the duke’s hands and backed away nervously. It was the first time the duke had laid eyes on his daughter.  In truth, it was the first time the duke had held any baby that small.  It felt like a mere loaf of warm bread in his hands, so light and so fragile he feared that if he was too rough, he would break it, or drop it, or somehow or other extinguish the little life in his hands.  He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he gazed on that face.  Perhaps some perfect angelic countenance like a porcelain doll, or a miniature version of Hillary.  When he pulled down the linen towel she was wrapped in, what he found was a small, red, scrunched face that seemed to be glaring at him with dark, violet eyes.  His brows drew together as he studied the child, unknowingly making exactly the same face. 

His heart clenched with a fierce and unfamiliar feeling, and his mouth thinned into a line.  His hatred toward Hillary mounted.  How could she?  How could she leave this little thing to die?  He looked up and scowled at the woman from the prison.  “Get this woman a chair so she can do her work!” he bellowed.  The little creature in his arms flinched at his loud voice, and let out a weak and pitiful wail. 

The maids scrambled to bring another chair into the chamber.  It was a heavy chair made of wood and leather from the study, and it took two of them to wrestle it into the room and set it down near the woman in brown.  Liam, suddenly uncomfortable holding the child now that it was making noise, thrust it out toward the woman.  He watched her like a hawk as she took the child in her trembling hands, and backed into the chair. 

The woman handled the baby like someone who was used to small children.  She sank into the leather chair and cradled the child easily into her elbow.  The baby, seeming to sense she was in safe and experienced hands now quieted down, making only little bleating noises.  The woman studied the baby's face, and then looked back at him, as though she were comparing them.  Liam wondered what she thought.  Did the child resemble him at all? 

The woman’s expression was closed and completely unreadable.  She did not talk to the baby or make those stupid cooing noises that women always seemed to make when they were in the presence of infants.  She just stared.  “Well?” he prompted with rising irritation.  “What are you waiting for?  Feed her!” 

The woman’s face darkened and she looked around the room at all the people who were watching her, from Mrs. Short’s sour face, the maids’, the guardsmen, and then back to the large and intimidating duke.  "I can’t do this with all these people watching me.” 

The nurse who had brought the child from the nursery, an older, knowledgeable woman who was a grandmother many times over, bobbed her head.  “Pardon, your grace, but it's true.  The young lady needs to relax for milk to flow.  T’were best she had some privacy.” 

“Fine!” the duke barked, “Everyone out!”   

The chamber cleared as everyone jumped to obey.  Only Mrs. Short lingered a moment longer, her gaze lingering on the woman with dark disapproval.  “Your grace,” Mrs. Short spoke as though the woman weren’t sitting right there in front of them.  “It isn’t advisable to leave the child alone with this woman.” 

The duke waved her away.  “She will not be alone.  You are dismissed, Mrs. Short.  See to the dinner.”  

Mrs. Short left the chamber reluctantly, and Liam went and slouched into his own chair, and looked at the woman with a raised, challenging eyebrow.  She stared back at him, apparently not at all intimidated by his authority, or his bad temper.  Without dropping his gaze, she reached for the line of tiny buttons on the front of the brown dress, undoing them with one hand while she cradled the child in the other. 

“Does she have a name?” she asked flatly, pushing the dress down one shoulder. 

Up until that moment, he had not given the child a name.  But having observed her deep purple eyes, he chose one instantly.  “Violet,” he said, leaning back in the chair.   

The woman only nodded, her face not revealing anything.  She reached for the laces on the shift.  Her hands trembled, but he could not tell if it was from fear, or from weakness.  He watched them draw out the knot, and then loosen the silky cords until the shift had opened enough to release her breast.  Her breasts were firm and round, her skin burned slightly pinkish from the harsh soaps of the bath.  He could still see the faint blue lines of her veins, and the dark dusky tips of her n*****s.  He didn’t care at all if it was right or proper for him to stare at this woman’s bare breast, and oddly she also seemed to have no shame. 

She lifted the baby near to her n****e, and used her finger to tease the corner of the child’s mouth.  The baby reflexively opened and turned toward her finger, and the woman used that opportunity to bring the child onto her n****e.  There was a sort of fumbling process, as the baby made a few half hearted attempts to suckle, and then spit the n****e back out.  The woman’s face was a mask of concentration, as she used her free hand to massage her own breast and squeeze the areola until a few drops of milk beaded on her n****e.  After three or four more tries, the baby finally latched on, and judging by the bobbing of her little chin, had figured out how to suckle. 

The woman sighed and leaned her head back in the chair tiredly, closing her eyes.  Liam studied her more closely, now that he could bear to look upon her.  She was quite thin.  He didn’t know much about women, but he remembered hearing that malnourished women couldn’t produce enough milk to feed their children.  He would have to make sure she was fed well, and immediately.  Her skin looked raw and burned, but that was preferable to being caked with all manner of filth.  Her hair hung down around her waist in a dark brown curtain, but it looked dull and dry.  Beneath the skirt of the brown dress, her feet and slender boney ankles peeked out.  She had shapely, delicate feet with high arches and nice toes. Liam frowned to see that Mrs. Short had failed to give the woman stockings or slippers to wear.  He would be sure to rectify that before the meal was served. 

After some minutes, Violet turned her head away, and released the n****e with a resounding little smack.  The woman roused herself, and lifted the child to her shoulder, rubbing the tiny back of the bundle until the baby released a surprisingly deep and loud belch.  It startled him so much that he actually chuckled. 

The woman’s eyes darted to his in surprise, and then shifted away.  She had heard all the stories about the duke.  People said he never smiled, never laughed.  He had a reputation for being harsh, cold and unkind. Her brief interaction with him so far had not disproved any of the rumors, so his small laugh was unexpected.  She clumsily adjusted herself so that she could switch sides and offer the child the left breast.  

She seemed to know what she was about.  Liam wondered if she had other children, or if this was a thing that all women were born knowing how to do.  He thought of the child she lost in the dungeons and felt some stab of pity. 

He was not a man who was used to feeling sympathy for others.  He pushed the feeling aside at the same time that he pushed himself out of the chair and towered above her.  He saw the slightest flash of fear in her eyes as she gazed up at him, but it flitted away as quickly as it came.  “I will have the maids prepare you a room.  You will sleep in the same with the child so that you are available whenever she has a need.” 

She only nodded tiredly, showing no sign of respect or formality.  She didn’t speak up until he was about to leave the chamber.  “Your grace?” 

He stopped at looked back at her, raising his brow. 

“I’m thirsty.”