Chapter Ten #4
Stephen glanced across the Serpentine where the two young men had now disappeared. “It’s nothing. I’m merely beset by the occasional memory of the battlefield, that’s all.”
“Waterloo?”
Stephen nodded.
Staines placed his hand on his arm. “Though it would be fatuous of me to say that I understand, because I don’t, I know how some events can impact a man’s soul. But it wasn’t that to which I was referring.”
He nodded toward Lady Portia, who still had Gabriel in her arms.
“I recognize the signs,” he said. “A man may not be able to acknowledge such an ailment when he suffers it himself, but once he’s experienced it, he can recognize it in others. Though, of course, I’d hesitate to use the term ‘suffering,’ lest my Juliette admonish me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” Stephen said.
Staines gestured toward Lady Portia, then lowered his voice.
“There’s nothing that captures one’s heart more than the sight of a woman showing love to a child, especially when that child is not her own, and when that child is…
” He made a random gesture, then smiled.
“Lady Portia seems fond of Gabriel, though I’m not certain her brother approves. ”
“Foxton’s a stickler for propriety,” Stephen said.
“He’s not the sort of fellow to embrace anyone who does not fit into his idea of the perfect Society gentleman—or lady.
Personally, I think perfection is overrated.
Society, in its desire for perfection, can often be unbelievably cruel.
” He nodded toward the boy. “Is Gabriel aware that he’s”—he hesitated as Staines frowned—“not like his younger brother?”
“He’s beginning to suspect,” came the reply. “A look here, a casually dropped word there…” Staines let out a sigh. “It’s not necessarily what anyone says, but how they say it. But, for the moment, we can shield him from the worst.”
“Then he’s fortunate to have you as his father.”
“As am I, to have him as my son,” Staines said, his eyes glistening with love.
“My Juliette taught me that we can build a little society of our own—of our true friends. Society will always be filled with men, and women, who stand by a desire to observe their superiority of rank by exhibiting cruelty to those they consider beneath them. But I measure a person’s worth by their behavior, particularly their behavior toward Gabriel. ”
He turned his attention to the boy once more. Lady Portia had set him on his feet, and he clung to her legs while she held his hand, seemingly oblivious of the mud stain on her skirts.
“It’s perhaps fortunate that Lady Portia is not like her brother,” Staines said. “There’s a spirit hiding behind her eyes that is unlikely to be tamed. The man who captures her heart will be fortunate indeed.”
“Ought you to speak of such things?”
“As Earl Staines, perhaps not. But I was never intended to take the title—my vocation was the church.”
“Do you miss your occupation?”
“About as much as you miss yours, I suspect, colonel,” Staines said.
“I miss the sense of purpose it gave me, but the reality of the position was never the same as the dream I once had when I took up the cloth, all youthful eagerness, unaware of the obstacles I’d have to face.
My occupation is much respected and often envied by those who have an idyllic, overly romantic view of what it entails. I daresay it’s the same for you.”
Sweet heaven—it was almost as if Staines had delved into Stephen’s mind to unlock his soul.
“Will you sell your commission and retire from the army?” he asked. “I daresay the world will attempt to persuade you otherwise.”
“Are you bothering the colonel, Lord Staines?”
Stephen turned to see Lady Portia standing before him, holding Gabriel’s hand.
“Are you in the habit of listening to private conversations, Lady Portia?” Staines said.
“No, but Gabriel wanted to be with his father, and who am I to deny the sweet boy anything he wants?”
“Come here, young sir, Staines said, taking the boy into his arms. “It’s time we took you home for your supper.” He called out to his wife, “My love, ought we take Gabriel home?”
“Ah yes,” she said. “We’re at Vauxhall Gardens tonight. Are you going, colonel? Eleanor and Monty are, as I believe are Foxton and Lady Portia.”
“What’s happening at Vauxhall Gardens?” Angela asked, turning her expressive gaze onto Stephen. “Can we go?”
“I hadn’t intended us to.”
“It will all be very jolly,” Lady Staines said. “Jugglers, acrobats, musicians—and Lady Rivers told me there’s to be a fire-eater.”
“A what?” Angela asked, her eyes widening.
“A man who eats fire. It’s a most extraordinary sight.”
“That sounds wonderful!” Angela cried. “Can we go, brother? Please say we can?”
She turned her gaze on him, and his heart was lost. There was nothing in the world he wouldn’t do to make her happy.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh.
“Excellent! Might I beg a place with you tonight, Lady Portia?”
Lady Portia glanced at Stephen. “If you wish it.”
Oh, I do wish it, Lady Portia.
She curved her mouth into a smile, and his heart gave a little sigh.
Perhaps Staines was right—he was sickening for something.
Love.