Chapter 38
“Enter.”
Edward set down his glass and turned toward the study door. The knock had been soft, hesitant, nothing like the confident rap of a servant.
No one entered.
Instead, he heard the rattle of the doorknob, followed by a small grunt of effort. Then, muffled through the wood, came Oliver’s exasperated voice.
“I cannot reach the handle.”
Edward crossed the room and opened the door. Oliver stood in the corridor in his nightshirt, his dark curls disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy with unshed tears. He clutched a stuffed rabbit to his chest, the same rabbit that had belonged to his mother.
“Oliver.” Edward crouched to the boy’s level. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”
“I had a nightmare.” Oliver’s lower lip trembled. “A bad one. With monsters and dark places, and I couldn’t find anyone.”
Edward’s chest tightened. He thought of all the nights he had spent alone with his own terrors, his own dark places, with no one to turn to. His father would have sent him back to bed with a lecture about weakness. His mother had been gone.
He would not be his father.
“Come over here.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the fire. “Sit with me.”
Oliver padded across the carpet and climbed onto the settee near the hearth. Edward settled beside him, leaving space between them, uncertain of the boundaries. The fire crackled. The clock ticked. Oliver hugged his rabbit tighter.
“Did you have a nightmare too?” Oliver’s voice was small.
Edward looked at the boy. At the wide blue eyes that held so much of Leonard, so much trust despite everything Edward had failed to give him.
He sighed. “Yes. I suppose I did.”
“Was it about monsters?”
“Of a sort.” Edward stared into the flames. “My monsters are different from yours. They live inside my head and tell me I am not good enough. That I will fail the people I care about.” He paused. “That I already have.”
Oliver was quiet for a moment. Then he scooted closer and pressed his small body against Edward’s side.
“Sophia says that when you have a nightmare, you should think about something happy instead.” His voice held the certainty of a child repeating trusted wisdom. “She says the happy thoughts chase the monsters away.”
Edward’s throat constricted at the mention of her name. “Sophia is very wise.”
“She is.” Oliver nodded. “She makes everything better.” He looked up at Edward with troubled eyes. “Why have you been sad, Uncle Edward? You and Sophia used to smile at each other. Now you do not talk at all.”
The question pierced through Edward’s carefully constructed walls. He opened his mouth to deflect, to offer some meaningless platitude, but the words would not come.
“I made a mistake.” He heard himself say. “I hurt her. And I do not know how to fix it.”
Oliver considered this with the gravity of a much older soul. “When I make a mistake, Sophia tells me to say sorry and try to do better.” He tilted his head. “Have you said sorry?”
Edward closed his eyes. Such a simple solution. Such an impossible task.
“No.” His voice emerged rough. “I have not.”
“Then you should.” Oliver patted Edward’s arm with the confidence of a child who believed the world could be set right with the proper words. “Sophia is very good at forgiving. She forgave me when I broke her favorite teacup.”
Despite everything, Edward felt his lips twitch. “You broke her teacup?”
“It was an accident.” Oliver’s expression turned sheepish. “I was trying to pour tea for my rabbit.”
Edward looked at the stuffed rabbit, at Oliver’s earnest face, at this small person who had somehow found his way to Edward’s study in the middle of the night seeking comfort.
He put his arm around the boy. Oliver nestled against his side with a contented sigh, as though this was exactly where he belonged.
Perhaps it was.
They sat together in the firelight, the silence between them warm and companionable. Oliver’s breathing slowed, and his small body grew heavy against Edward’s ribs.
Then the boy spoke again, his voice drowsy.
“I came to find you because I did not want to wake Mrs. Palmer.” Oliver yawned. “And I could not find Sophia anywhere.”
Edward stilled. “What do you mean?”
“I looked for her first.” Oliver rubbed his eyes. “But she was not in her room. I knocked and knocked, but no one answered.”
A thread of unease wound through Edward’s chest. Sophia often visited Mr. Colborne’s office at night, but she was always back well before dawn. He glanced at the clock on the mantel. Nearly four in the morning.
“Did you check anywhere else?” He kept his voice calm. “The library? The sitting room?”
Oliver shrugged. “She is not upstairs. I looked everywhere.” He yawned again. “Maybe she is having a nightmare too.”
Edward’s blood turned cold.
She should have been home hours ago. The driver knew to bring her back before the servants stirred. Something was wrong.
He gathered Oliver into his arms and rose from the settee. The boy made a sound of protest but did not wake fully, his head lolling against Edward’s shoulder.
The house was silent as Edward climbed the stairs, his footsteps muffled on the carpet. He reached the nursery wing and rapped on Mrs. Palmer’s door.
She appeared moments later, her cap askew, her eyes bleary with sleep. They widened when she saw Oliver in Edward’s arms.
“Your Grace. Is something wrong?”
“Oliver had a nightmare.” Edward transferred the boy into her waiting arms. “Keep him occupied. Do not let him wander.”
Mrs. Palmer’s brow furrowed with concern. “And the duchess?”
“I am going to find her.”
He did not wait for a response. He strode down the corridor, taking the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The entrance hall was dark; the house sleeping, unaware of the fear clawing at his chest.
The stables were empty save for a single groom dozing in the corner. Edward saddled his horse himself, his fingers clumsy with haste. The animal sensed his urgency and stamped with impatience.
He swung into the saddle and urged the horse forward. The streets of London were deserted at this hour, the cobblestones slick with mist, the gas lamps casting pools of yellow light in the darkness.
He rode toward the docks, toward the solicitor’s office, toward wherever Sophia might be.
Please, let her be safe. Let me find her. Let me have the chance to make this right.
The horse’s hooves echoed through the empty streets as Edward raced against the dawn.