Chapter Ten #3
“Permit a lady to preserve some secrets, colonel. Come, Gabriel, shall we take a look at those flowers?” She led the boy toward a raised flower bed, filled with blooms in a vibrant mix of pinks and oranges. “Do you like flowers?” she asked.
“Mama likes them, so I’d like to pick some for her to take home.”
“I think the gardeners here would object. Besides, you wouldn’t want everyone else to be deprived of enjoying them. It would be like taking one of the swans home.”
“I couldn’t do that,” the boy said. “The moorhens on the lake wouldn’t like it. Do you know what a moorhen is?”
“It’s a bird that lives on the water,” came the reply.
“A pretty little thing that stays hidden due to his dark plumage, but you can always spot his bright beak, a flash of red and yellow. And he has a very distinctive call that echoes across the water. I prefer them to swans, which are graceful enough, but are known to attack you if you get too close.”
“I prefer them too,” the boy said. “The colonel didn’t know what they were.”
She glanced over her shoulder to Stephen and grinned. “Let me guess, he thought they were hens that lived on moors?”
The boy let out a squeal of laughter, lost his balance, and fell back. Lady Portia caught him and tumbled onto the grass, and Stephen braced himself for a fit of temper. But she merely brushed the dust from her gown, righted herself, and swept the boy into her arms.
“Gabriel!” Lady Staines said, an undertone of warning in her voice, and the boy’s laughter died. Stephen glanced toward her, but she was not looking at her son. Her attention was fixed on the gentleman approaching the party on the path.
Foxton was the first to greet him. “Ah, Sir Heath. Pleasant morning for a promenade.”
“Provided the company is to one’s taste,” Sir Heath said, staring at Gabriel. Then he turned his cold blue gaze toward Lady Staines and inclined his head. “Lady Staines, a pleasure.”
“How kind of you, Sir Heath,” she said. “I commend your effort at gallantry.”
He turned his attention to Angela. “And who’s this delightful creature?” he said, his mouth curling into the sort of smile that ladies found alluring.
“I’m Lady Angela Reid.”
Sir Heath glanced at Stephen, and his smile broadened, revealing white, even teeth that gleamed in the sunlight, giving him a predatory air.
“Is that so?” he said. “I went shooting with your late father, don’t you know?” He took her hand and made a great show of bowing over it. “Sir Heath Moss, at your service, Lady Angela.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sir Heath.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.” He lifted her hand to his lips, and Stephen’s gut twisted at the lascivious expression in his eyes. “Are you embarking on your first Season, Lady Angela?”
“Yes, I’m here with my brother.”
“Of course.” Sir Heath inclined his head in Stephen’s direction. “I believe that of all the gems in London this Season, you will be the brightest. I trust the time will come when I have the opportunity to partner you for a dance.”
“I say, is that not a little forward?” Stephen said.
“There’s no harm in declaring my intentions, colonel,” Sir Heath replied. “Your sister’s a beautiful creature, and there will be many young bucks vying for her hand.”
“I have often observed, Sir Heath, that you do not always declare your full intentions—at least not as openly as the recipient of your gallantry might wish.”
“Come, come, nobody could accuse me of not giving a woman what she wishes.”
Sir Heath kissed Angela’s hand once more, then released it. For a moment, she stared at the back of her hand, then she colored and lowered her arm.
“Ah, Lady Portia!” Sir Heath said. “A somewhat unusual activity for you, what?”
“I don’t understand your meaning, Sir Heath.”
He gestured toward Gabriel. “One could almost mistake you for an urchin, grubbing about in the dirt with all manner of individuals.”
She placed a protective arm around the boy’s shoulders. “One encounters such a variety of people in a public park,” she said. “It enables us to widen our acquaintance. But with such variety comes the risk of having to encounter those with whom we’d rather not associate ourselves.”
“Quite so,” Sir Heath said, staring at the boy.
“Gabriel, my love, come here!” Lady Staines said. Lady Portia released the boy, who ran to his mother, then Sir Heath tipped his hat and continued along the path.
Lady Portia approached Stephen, and he held out his arm, which she took. “It’s such a pity,” she said, her gaze on Lady Staines and the boy.
“Does it bother you that Gabriel is some other man’s natural son?”
She wrenched her arm free, and her sapphire eyes flashed with anger.
“Not in the way that men such as you think. What bothers me is that Gabriel will forever be tainted by the sins of another.”
“You think Lady Staines a sinner?”
“Colonel, how dare—”
She broke off and drew in a sharp breath as Stephen grasped her hand, her eyes widening. A fizz of need ignited in his blood, and he shifted position as his breeches became too tight. Desire flared in her eyes before the anger returned.
“Unhand me, sir.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Lord Staines staring at them. “I apologize if I misunderstood you, Lady Portia.”
“Do you also apologize to Gabriel?”
At the mention of her son’s name, Lady Staines turned her attention toward them, holding Gabriel close.
“You accuse me of having contempt for an innocent child and his mother, who were wronged by others?” Lady Portia said.
“Society thinks—”
“Society can rot, colonel,” she retorted. “Gabriel is a sweet boy and his mother is one of the kindest women I know. As for his father…”
“You know the identity of his father?”
“I mean Lord Staines,” she said, “the father who matters. He’s to be commended for recognizing and loving Gabriel as his own. Most men would have insisted that Gabriel be sent away. But that is the very worst sin a man can commit.”
“Perhaps not the only sin,” Stephen said, glancing at Sir Heath’s retreating figure.
“It’s our misfortune that men rule the world and therefore behave as they wish with no consideration of the consequences to others. Few, if any, men in our Society would have acted as Lord Staines did. But he’s enlightened enough to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That no loving mother should be parted from her child. Not for propriety—not for anything. Please excuse me.”
She pulled her hand free and approached Lady Staines. Then she reached for Gabriel and lifted him in her arms.
“Sweet boy!” she cried. “Lady Staines, you must come to tea and bring Gabriel with you. Our cook is particularly fond of children, and she makes the most delicious sweet buns. Would you like that, Gabriel?”
“Sweet buns?” Gabriel said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Mama, can we?”
“Of course, my love,” Lady Staines said, kissing the top of her son’s head. “You’re very kind, Lady Portia.”
“It’s out of self-interest, I assure you. I find myself in want of congenial male company at home.”
“That’s put you in your place, Foxton,” Lord Staines said with a chuckle.
The party continued along the path, and Stephen fell into step with Lord Staines.
“Your son’s a delightful boy,” he said, “though I suspect he’s a handful.”
“Most children are at that age. He’s old enough to move about of his own accord—poor Flora is kept on her toes trying to keep up with him, but still young enough that his enthusiasm for everything and everyone about him has not yet waned.
That enthusiasm will soon be tempered by a better understanding of the world, but for now, it is something to be celebrated. ”
At that moment a shot rang out, and Stephen froze in fear.
He closed his eyes as the distant screams of his fallen comrades filled the air, together with the stench of smoke, dirt, and pain.
The image thrust into his mind—the landscape stretching toward the horizon, the colors fading in the dying light, the blurred shapes of men littering the ground, mortal enemies united at last in death…
“Witless fools!”
A sharp voice cut through the fog, and Stephen opened his eyes to see Lord Staines standing by the edge of the Serpentine gesturing to two young men across the water.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he cried. “Ignorant pups, firing a pistol in the middle of a park filled with people? Save that sort of behavior for dawn or dusk, when, with luck, you’ll rid the world of each other.”
“But sir, we—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Staines said. “Now go, or I’ll tell your papa.”
The young man who’d spoken paled and sheathed his pistol. “Come on, Dudders, best get going.”
They turned and fled, and Staines returned.
“That Gillingham fellow will find himself on the wrong end of a pistol one day, mark my words,” he said.
“The one who spoke?” Stephen asked.
“Earl Gillingham’s eldest. His father’s notoriously strict, but it seems to have made the boy more determined.
Duddington, the boy with him, is, I suspect, being led stray.
But if Gillingham finds out, they’ll both have sore hides.
Gillingham’s not above using the strap for the slightest infraction. ”
“Are you an advocate of corporal punishment?”
“I’d never take a hand to either of my boys,” Staines said.
“There are other ways to teach them to understand the consequences of their actions. For example, when Gabriel let the chickens out at Radham Hall, he was tasked with helping our under-gardener retrieve them, then cleaning out the chicken run afterward.”
“And did he?”
Staines smiled. “He needed a little help, but he did it uncomplainingly when I explained to him that the under-gardener had had to spend his afternoon off retrieving the chickens, and it was therefore only fair that Gabriel undertake some of his duties the following day.”
He tilted his head to one side and fixed his gaze on Stephen. “Are you ailing, my friend?”