Chapter Ten #2
Her smile disappeared, and a hunted look flickered in her eyes. “I don’t see why I should be denied the pursuits that men enjoy merely because of my sex,” she said.
“Sister,” Foxton admonished her, and she shot him a look of defiance.
Whitcombe let out a laugh. “I daresay, Foxton, your sister will be insisting on membership of White’s if you give her too much freedom.”
“Then I shall have to curb her freedom.”
Lady Portia let out a laugh. “You think I want to spend every waking afternoon drinking brandy and congratulating myself on how many fellows I’ve bested at the card table or how many maidens I’ve seduced?”
A collective intake of breath rippled through the company, and Foxton snapped at her. “Portia, I’ve warned you before—”
“Have I said anything untrue?” she said. “You may admonish me for speaking out of turn if you like, but do not attempt to chastise me for speaking the truth. I would rather hear the truth, even if it gives me discomfort, than be placated with a lie merely to keep me quiet.”
“Portia, I’ve a good mind—” Foxton began, but Duchess Whitcombe interrupted.
“Quite so, Lady Portia. I often find myself voicing an uncomfortable truth, though it drives my poor husband to despair—does it not, my love?” She turned to Whitcombe, who lifted her hand to his heart.
Sweet Lord—what must it be like to be so in love? But the love Whitcombe held for his wife was not a slavish devotion where he ignored her flaws and exposed himself to heartbreak and rejection. It was a love borne of knowing—really knowing—his wife’s soul and recognizing her as his true mate.
Stephen’s gaze shifted to Lady Portia, who watched the couple with understanding and envy in her eyes. Then she met his gaze and held it for a moment, before she colored and looked away, while Angela watched the exchange.
At that moment, the sound of splashing and honking carried across the air, and Angela turned her attention to the waters of the Serpentine, which glistened through the trees, reflecting the sunlight like a thousand tiny stars dancing across the surface.
“Lady Angela, shall we go and see the swans?” Lady Portia said. “I fear my brother is about to chastise me in public, and I’d rather he wait to dish out his admonishments at home.”
Foxton frowned, and Lord Staines let out a laugh.
“You’ve a headstrong young lady there in your sister, Foxton.
I trust you appreciate the benefits of having such a spirited young woman in your home.
Consider it good practice for your marriage, for I’ll wager that only the most strong-willed of women will suit you. ”
“On the contrary, Staines,” Foxton said, giving Lady Portia a hard look. “I find that a lifetime of my sister has made me appreciate the benefits of a silent, biddable partner in marriage all the more.”
Angela stared at Foxton.
“Does your brother admonish you as much, Lady Angela?” Portia said.
Foxton let out a snort. “And does your sister run wild as much, colonel?”
Lady Portia linked her arm with Angela’s. “I think the swans may be more congenial company for us. Certainly they’ll be more adept at intelligent conversation.”
“Y-yes please…” Angela stammered. “I mean, I’d be delighted, Lady Portia.”
“Call me Portia,” came the reply, and the two women approached the water’s edge.
“Don’t stray too far, Angela,” Stephen said.
“Leave her be, colonel,” Lady Staines said, approaching him. “Portia’s sensible enough, for all her brother says. She’ll make sure your sister comes to no harm.”
He offered his arm, and she took it, her cheeks blooming. Did she recall the last time they promenaded together in the park—when he’d offered his hand, believing himself in love?
She glanced toward the rest of the party, but her husband was in conversation with Foxton while Whitcombe and his duchess had eyes for none but each other.
“You must forgive me, colonel,” she said.
“Whatever for?”
Her color deepened and she let out a sigh.
“There’s naught to forgive, Lady Staines,” he said.
“In fact, I ought to thank you for breaking our…” He hesitated as she drew in a sharp breath.
“I mean…you had the foresight to understand that continuing on the path we’d set ourselves would have led to contentment at best, but ultimately unhappiness.
You did us both a service—and you suffered more than I.
But in the end, you were rewarded for your bravery. ”
She blinked, and her eyes glistened with moisture. “You are too good, colonel,” she said. “I could never have hoped to deserve a man such as you.”
“We all deserve someone to make us happy, Lady Staines.”
“Then,” she said, glancing toward the two women by the water, “my greatest wish is that you’ll find the happiness that I have found for myself—the happiness that you deserve.”
“Mama, Mama!” a voice cried, and a child of five or six years approached them at a run, followed by a young woman in a pale-blue gown.
“Master Gabriel, a little slower, please, or you’ll tumble over!”
“Ah, my happiness,” Lady Staines said.
The child tripped forward and fell onto the grass. But, unlike most children who wailed with petulance, he leaped up and continued forward, laughing as he barreled into Lady Staines and wrapped his arms around her skirts.
The young woman reached them, panting. “Master Gabriel, careful of your mama’s gown.”
Lady Staines glanced at her skirts and the smudge of mud on the fabric. “Not again!” she said, and the boy’s smile disappeared. “Never mind. I’m sure it’ll wash out, Flora. Gabriel can help—won’t you, my darling?”
The boy nodded, then turned his expressive blue gaze toward Stephen.
“And who might you be, young sir?” Stephen said.
Lady Staines’s eyes took on a look of wariness. The gossips had done their work—almost everyone in Society knew that Gabriel was a natural child.
Foxton, who’d been deep in conversation with Staines, cast his gaze over the boy, a slight sneer on his lips.
“This is my son,” Juliette said. “Gabriel Staines. Gabriel, my love, this is Colonel Reid.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Staines,” Stephen said, offering his hand. The boy stared at it, then looked back up at him.
“Are you a soldier?”
“Aye.”
“You must be terribly brave.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Oh yes you are,” Gabriel said, his eyes shining with admiration. “Mama says that soldiers are the bravest men in the world. They do what they do so that everybody in England is safe. That’s what you said, Mama, was it not?”
“Yes, my darling,” Lady Staines said, stroking the boy’s head.
“What do soldiers do?” the boy asked.
“This soldier, not very much at present,” Stephen said. “I’m in town for the foreseeable future, taking care of my sister.”
“Oh, like Flora? She takes care of me and my brother.”
“Is your brother with you today?”
“He’s too young to walk in the park. Mrs. Smith’s taking care of him at home in the country. He’s a viscount, you know.”
A look of discomfort darkened Lady Staines’s expression, but the boy had yet to understand the implications of his younger brother having the title that he did not.
“Is this your first visit to London?” Stephen asked.
Gabriel nodded. “I didn’t like it at first—so many people, and they all stared at me. But Mama says it’s rude to stare, so I didn’t stare back.”
“And now?”
“I like coming to the park. They have swans here. We don’t have swans in the country, but there are moorhens on the lake. Do you know what a moorhen is?”
“A hen that lives on the moors?” Stephen said.
“No, silly! Hens don’t live on the moors.”
“Gabriel, hush,” Lady Staines said. “Remember what I said about needing to be polite when we’re out, and why?”
The boy colored. “You said not everyone would be kind to me.”
Stephen’s heart ached at the stricken expression on Gabriel’s face, and the fear in his mother’s eyes. At that moment, Angela returned from the water’s edge with Lady Portia. Lady Staines glanced from Stephen to Lady Portia, then extended her hand to Angela.
“Lady Angela, would you walk with me?”
Angela took the proffered arm, and Stephen approached Lady Portia. She linked her arm through his as if it belonged there, and his heart warmed with hope as a spark of desire flickered in his blood.
“Who might you be, young sir?” Lady Portia said, glancing at the boy with a smile.
“I’m Gabriel Staines.”
Her smile slipped and she glanced toward Lady Staines, then back at the child.
“Of course,” she said. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Staines. I’ve heard much about you.”
Stephen stared at her. Yes, I’ll wager you have—you and all the gossips.
“This man’s a soldier, you know,” Gabriel said, tuning his admiring gaze to Stephen once more. “He saves everybody.”
“Everybody?” she said, curling her lips into a smile. “A remarkable feat. Do you think we’re in danger here in the park?”
“Mama told me London can be dangerous.”
“And she’s right,” Lady Portia said. “I trust you listen to your mama. I confess, I don’t always listen to my brother, but you ought to be a better person than I and do as your mama says, at least until you’re old enough to make your own way in the world.”
“Are you old enough to make your way in the world, Lady Portia?” the boy asked.
She let out a laugh. “I’m afraid I’ll never be given the freedom to do so, Master Gabriel. That is the curse of being a woman, and of having a title. Whereas you…”
She faltered, her cheeks reddening.
“It matters not,” she said. “If Society’s rules cannot be broken, they can at least be molded to our satisfaction.” She bent down and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And what my brother doesn’t know about my antics cannot hurt him.”
“What doesn’t your brother know, Lady Portia?” Stephen couldn’t help asking.
A hunted expression flickered in her eyes, then she straightened up, taking Gabriel’s hand.