Chapter Four #2
When it was time to leave, Ava-Marie said out loud, “Tessa said I talked funny. She said she’d love to learn to talk like me.” Courtney shared a worried look with Farah. But the little girl wasn’t upset. She simply said, “I told her it was because I was born in Ireland.”
“England is very different to Ireland, isn’t it?” Caitria asked the child.
Ava-Marie nodded and smiled and waved at Tessa as she continued her walk with her nanny.
“It’s all right to miss your old home,” Courtney said softly.
“I miss my pony!” Ava-Marie declared. “And my kitty. Papa says we can’t have a kitty here yet.” She turned to Courtney suddenly. “Do you have a kitty?”
“No,” Courtney said softly, memories washing over her of Lucien teasing her about her preference for dogs. “But I have an Irish Wolf Hound named Freya. You’re welcome to come and play with her.”
“What color is she? I love dogs too!” Ava-Marie’s whole face lit up. “Papa says we might get a dog when—” She stopped abruptly, putting both hands over her mouth. “Oops. That’s a secret.”
Courtney couldn’t help but smile at the child’s poor attempt at discretion.
The words ‘when they could afford one’ was probably going to come out of her mouth.
They came to Cherry Tree Row, where spring had painted everything in soft pastels.
Cherry blossoms drifted on the breeze like snow, and Ava-Marie gasped in delight.
“Look! Look! It’s snowing flowers!” She spun in circles, trying to catch the petals, all attempts at proper behavior forgotten. “Lady Farah, why is it snowing flowers?”
“Those are cherry blossoms,” Farah explained. “They fall from the trees in springtime.”
“Can I keep them?” Ava-Marie was already gathering fallen petals in her small hands.
“They won’t stay fresh for long,” Caitria warned gently.
“But they’re pretty now!” Ava-Marie insisted, then thrust her handful of petals toward Courtney. “Here! These are for you.”
And just like that, she lost her heart to another Furoe.
Courtney accepted the slightly crushed blossoms, her throat tight. “Thank you, dear.”
They walked on, Ava-Marie darting between them to collect more petals, occasionally stopping to point at dogs being walked or birds in the trees. Her chatter was constant but endearingly scattered, jumping from topic to topic with a child’s lack of connection.
“It’s nice in the sun, but I miss the nighttime and stars. My mama is a star, and I can see her every night. Papa reads me stories about stars,” she announced suddenly, falling into step beside Courtney. “But he says he forgets some. Do you know stories?”
“I do,” Courtney said carefully. “Would you like to hear one?”
“Yes! Is there a princess? I like princesses.”
“Well, there was a queen named Cassiopeia—”
“Was she pretty? Did she have a crown?” Ava-Marie interrupted, twirling in place.
“She was very beautiful,” Courtney began, but Ava-Marie’s attention had already shifted to a butterfly fluttering past.
“Look! It’s yellow! Papa showed me a yellow butterfly in Ireland. But it flew away.” Her face fell slightly. “Everything in Ireland flew away.”
The simple statement, delivered with a child’s innocent sadness, struck Courtney’s heart. She knelt down to Ava-Marie’s level. “Sometimes things have to fly away for a little while. But that doesn’t mean they’re gone forever.”
Ava-Marie considered her words, her small face serious. “Like Papa came back to London?”
“Yes, exactly like that.”
The girl nodded, then suddenly threw her arms around Courtney’s neck in an impulsive hug that smelled of cherry blossoms and sugar treats. “I like you. You’re nice. And pretty.”
Courtney hugged her back carefully, feeling tears prick at her eyes. Over Ava-Marie’s shoulder, she saw Farah and Caitria tactfully looking away.
“Can we have tea sometime?” Ava-Marie asked as she pulled back. “Papa’s teaching me how to draw but I’m not very good. The horses are my favorite ’cause they look funny.”
“I would like that very much, if your papa agrees.”
Courtney’s heart stuttered at the mention of drawing, remembering the special picture she’d drawn for Lucien, of Lucien.
It had been after their special night just before he’d left for Ireland.
He was bare chested, with his lower half covered by a blanket.
She wondered where he hid it. Had Lauren found it if they cleared out his room? She hadn’t mentioned it.
“He will agree!” Ava-Marie said with a child’s certainty. “He loves drawing and teaching me. He gave me his watercolor set that he found in his room.”
The revelation that his family had kept her engagement gift to him left Courtney speechless. Before she could respond, Farah was calling that it was time to go.
“Just five more minutes?” Ava-Marie pleaded, but she was clearly tiring, her earlier boundless energy flagging.
“We should head back,” Caitria said, noticing Ava-Marie’s flagging energy. “It’s nearly time for your afternoon rest, dear.”
“Just five more minutes?” Ava-Marie pleaded, but a yawn betrayed her.
The walk back to the carriage was quieter, Ava-Marie’s earlier exuberance softening into sleepy contentment. She held Farah’s hand with her right and Courtney’s with her left, occasionally swinging between them.
In the carriage, she curled up against Caitria’s side, her eyes heavy. “Will you tell me more stories next time?” she asked Courtney drowsily. “About the stars and the pretty queen?”
“Of course,” Courtney promised, watching as the child drifted off to sleep.
“She’s absolutely taken with you,” Caitria observed quietly.
“Courtney has that effect on people,” Farah said, her fond smile holding years of friendship. “She’s always seen straight to their hearts.”
Courtney sighed. “She’s going to face a formidable future. The daughter of an earl but with a common Irish farmer as a mother. There will be many in society who will scorn her pedigree.” She thought it odd that Farah’s face paled, and Caitria looked alarmed. “Is there more to this story?”
Farah recovered the quickest. “You’re right. But I’m sure her accent will disappear over time, and Lucien would only let her marry a man who did not care about her past.”
Courtney nodded. “Plus, she’ll have all of us to look out for her.”
They dropped Caitria and Ava-Marie at their home first, then continued on to Courtney’s townhouse. As the carriage drew to a halt, Farah reached across to squeeze her friend’s hand.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly.
“No,” Courtney admitted. “But I think perhaps I might be, someday.” She touched the crushed cherry blossoms in her lap, these simple tokens of a child’s affection. “She’s so much like him, Farah.”
“She has his likeness and kindness,” her friend observed quietly. “Did you see how she tried to share everything she found? The flowers, the stories, her excitement about drawing? I remember that Lucien was like that.”
Courtney nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. The afternoon’s warmth was fading, but something else was warming her from within—not quite hope, not yet, but perhaps the possibility of it. Like a star emerging from behind storm clouds, distant but bright with promise.
She thought of Tarquin’s words from this morning. Be his compass, not his anchor to the past. Looking down at her glove, where Ava-Marie’s crushed cherry blossoms left traces of pink, Courtney wondered if perhaps she could be both—a bridge between who they had been and who they might become.
“He’s collecting me for the opera tonight. Will you be there?”
Farah replied, “Rockwell is hosting us all in his box.”
She caught the choke in her friend’s voice. “Do you love Rockwell?” Courtney asked Farah. “What happened between you in Ireland? And don’t tell me you’re just friends. You’re unhappy. Did he—did he do something?”
“Other than make me fall in love with him and then make it clear that even if he married me, he’d sail away?” Then Farah burst into tears. Courtney hugged her and let her sob.
“Aren’t we a pair.”
Farah sat up and wiped her eyes. “That’s unfair.
He didn’t make me do anything. I let myself fall in love with him.
And now I don’t know what to do. I’m lying to everyone about being sick.
If my brother found out I’d been in Ireland with Rockwell…
He’d have me marching down the aisle next to him before I could blink. ”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Would you march down the aisle with Lucien?”
“Touche. Not this Lucien. Not yet anyway.”
“And I wouldn’t with Rockwell, either. He’d marry me and then sail the world.” They both laughed, but the laughter died as the groom came to open the door for her.
Farah took both of her hands in hers. “Lucien is a good man. Give him a chance. You could make him happy. And he deserves that. You could help him heal and find contentment—and love.”
She nodded. “I had already decided that, once I’d met Ava-Marie. I had to be sure she would accept me.” The groom helped her alight. She leaned in the window and said to Farah, “but you forget one thing.” At Farah’s raised eyebrow she added, “Lucien has to want me.”
Farah had nothing to say to that. In fact, she looked a tad guilty.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Then Courtney made her way inside, confusion and hope warring in equal measures. She ran up to her bedchamber, calling for her maid. Tonight, she would ensure she looked as good as she possibly could.
She wanted to attract Lucien’s attention. She wanted the chance to see if he could love her again.
As she lay in the bath, one thought raced through her brain. She could simply tell him. She knew that as a gentleman, if he learned he’d taken her innocence he would do the right thing. She chewed on her bottom lip. Should she tell him?
Not until she was sure she wanted him.