Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hyde Park, London
The extraordinary thing about the color green was the variety of shades to be found in nature.
While Stephen was not a true connoisseur of art, he knew enough to appreciate the subtle nuances of color in even the drabbest places—from the pale green of the lawns to the dark, glossy green of the bushes lining the path.
Most of his acquaintances considered Hyde Park to be exceptionally dull in February.
Trees, devoid of their leaves, stood in a forlorn row along the Serpentine, like bones stretching toward the sky.
The iron-hard ground glistened in the sunlight, dusted with frost, and the grass, brittle in the cold, crumpled underfoot, leaving imprints that formed winding patterns across the lawn.
Stephen smiled to himself as he caught sight of a pair of footprints disappearing into the rhododendrons, with no corresponding footprints coming back out again—clandestine lovers, perhaps.
He allowed himself a small smile.
“Colonel Reid!” a voice called.
A familiar figure approached, and he suppressed the little flutter of embarrassment as he recognized Lady Staines. But the sharp-featured frown she’d given him the day she broke their engagement was long gone, replaced by the serenity of a woman at peace.
“Lady Staines, a pleasure,” he said. “Are you not spending the winter in the country?”
“We arrived in London last week,” she said. “Besides, the winter is almost over.”
“Tell that to Mother Nature,” he said. “The ground underfoot is covered by frost.”
“But if you look closely, you’ll see the first signs of crocuses.
” She gestured toward a row of trees. “Just a few familiar shoots. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to tell Gabriel not to pick them.
He seems to think that if he picks the shoots and takes them home, they’ll turn into flowers. ”
“Is your son here with you today?”
She nodded. “His father has taken him to see the swans while I have a few moments to myself.” She gave a shy smile.
“I love my son completely, but he’s at that stage where he’s filled with life and laughter, and I need a little respite.
And, of course, I appreciate the time a boy needs to spend alone with his father to discuss”—she made a random gesture in the air—“oh, whatever it is that you gentlemen find the need to talk about when ladies are not present.”
“His father?” Stephen said. “I thought…”
“My husband is Gabriel’s father.”
“Of course. I meant no disrespect.”
“You’ve said nothing I’ve not heard elsewhere,” she said. “Fatherhood is more than a blood tie, you know. But, of course, that’s something you are yet to understand.”
Now it was Stephen’s turn to blush as he recalled his first declaration of love to her—when she was Miss Howard.
She placed a light hand on his arm. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to distress you, colonel. My life is complete now I have a family to love. Gabriel is my world, and it makes my heart sing to see how deeply Andrew cares for him.”
“And quite right,” Stephen said as he caught sight of a young boy further along the path, jumping by the water’s edge, laughing animatedly, while the man next to him held his hand. “He’s a charming boy.” He held out his arm. “May I?”
She hesitated, and he tempered the shame at his former infatuation. Then she smiled and took his arm.
“Of course,” she said. “We are acquaintances, are we not? And, if I may be so bold, I think we can call ourselves friends. We both wish each other happy, which is the mark of true friendship.”
He steered her along the path toward Lord Staines and the little boy, who were too engrossed in the swans to notice anything else.
“My sister is in Town,” she said.
“Is she well?”
She colored and gave a soft smile. “I’m sure she won’t mind my telling a friend, but she’s expecting her fourth child.
Montague is, of course, terribly protective of her, but she insisted that he remain in the country while she came to Town.
A doting husband is a joy to behold—but he can get a little too protective.
He made Eleanor promise to send word if she felt unwell, and he made me promise to visit her daily.
But I fear she’ll soon tire of my company.
I’m sure she’d appreciate a fellow admirer of art.
After all, didn’t you take her to see the Royal Academy exhibition the year before she… ”
Her voice trailed away and her cheeks reddened. Stephen’s heart have a little cry at the distress in her eyes as she evidently recalled the scandal that had driven her sister from London.
“I did not have the pleasure of escorting your sister to the exhibition,” he said. “I believe she left London to spend a few days by the sea.”
A strained silence fell as they continued along the path. Then they approached a clear patch of grass, and Stephen’s stomach cramped in horror as he recognized the spot where the Farthing had fallen—where he had shot the woman he loved then walked away, not bothering to look back.
No wonder she hates me.
“I beg pardon?” Lady Staines said.
“Forgive me. I was beset by a memory.”
“A painful memory?”
He nodded.
“You must embrace it, colonel, for it is unwise to bury it. Memories—and secrets—have a way of resurfacing when you least expect. And if you’re unprepared, they can breach your defenses and lead to heartbreak.”
“Surely it’s better to look to the future.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But one day, my Gabriel will discover the truth about his birth. I’d rather he heard it from me than the gossipmongers. Did you know that I”—she hesitated—“almost gave him up?”
She turned to him, and his heart ached at the pain in her eyes.
“I only considered it for a moment—and I was subject to the influence of others—but even so, that moment will haunt me. My mother—”
“Lady Staines, there’s no need to tell me.”
She drew in a deep breath, then let out a sigh.
“Society can be a cruel beast,” she said. “Unforgiving, relentless in its capacity to judge others it considers unworthy, yet it directs envy and spite at those it seeks to praise. I myself am more guilty than most of harboring envy.”
“Whom do you envy?”
She smiled. “I envy every woman who has yet to experience the judgment of the world—women who enjoy a successful Season, who avoid the attention of undesirables, who aren’t driven to act out of desperation, and…”
She caught her breath as the little boy ahead turned and waved at her, the sunlight catching his hair to form a halo.
“My poor child,” she whispered. “Before my confinement, Mother insisted I hide away in disgrace. I was required to utter falsehoods to explain my absence from London. A rest cure, Mother told her acquaintances.” She let out a snort.
“A rest cure, indeed! Little did I know that most women in Society are fully aware of what that actually means.”
A rest cure…
Where had he heard that term before?
“Forgive me for burdening you with my sensibilities. I’m afraid…” Her blush deepened, then she dipped her head. “I believe I can trust you, colonel—despite how cruelly I treated you.”
“Lady Staines, you were never cruel,” he said. “In breaking off our engagement, you ensured your own happiness, and furthered the cause of mine. No matter the manner of the delivery, or the words you used, you committed an act of kindness.”
“It is you who are kind.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper.
“It’s not only Eleanor who’s with child,” she said.
“We came early to London to see Dr. McIver—I really couldn’t bear to see anyone else, and I refused to make the poor man travel all the way to Radham Hall.
He has instructed me to take plenty of fresh air, and occasional respite from my rambunctious son.
I find that my spirits often rise and fall in a heartbeat, but Dr. McIver assures me that’s perfectly healthy, and to be expected. ”
A rest cure…
Of course! It was what Foxton had said about Portia. Which meant…
“Dear God Almighty!”
Lady Staines recoiled. “Colonel!” she cried.
The man and boy at the water’s surface turned and strode toward them.
Lord Staines reached them in a heartbeat, the little boy trotting at his heels.
“Is anything the matter, Juliette my love?” he said, eyeing Stephen with disapproval.
“Forgive me, Lady Staines, I meant no disrespect,” Stephen said. “I-I was just thinking about…” He hesitated, but Staines stepped closer.
“Yes?” His voice may have a mild tone, but it carried an undertone of steel.
“I was thinking of Foxton,” Stephen blurted out. “But it matters not.”
“Have you seen him?” Lord Staines said.
“He’s in the country, is he not?”
“He was at White’s last night, though he’s returning to Forthridge in a day or so for his shooting party.
I daresay you’ll see him there. You’re not a member of White’s, are you?
I confess, I prefer Boodle’s myself, but the chef at White’s does an excellent roast beef.
Not the least bit overdone—and I’m very particular about beef, am I not, my love?
I know our cook at Radham Hall despairs of my fastidiousness. ”
Lady Staines looked at her husband with adoration in her eyes, while the little boy bowed toward Stephen.
“Colonel Reid,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to see you today. A fine morning for a walk in the park, is it not?”
Lady Staines looked at her son, love and pride shimmering in her eyes.
“What a polite and gentlemanly young man!” Stephen said. “Your mama and papa must be very proud of you.”
Lord Staines scooped up the boy in his arms, and Gabriel squealed in delight.
“Yes,” he said. “We are. Children are such a blessing.”
A rest cure…
The whispered voice circled in Stephen’s mind, taunting him while he shook his head to dissipate it.
“Colonel, are you well?” Lady Staines said.
“I-I think perhaps I might call on Foxton,” Stephen said, trying to keep his voice even. “Do you happen to know if Lady Portia is in Town also?”
Lady Staines frowned and tilted her head to one side, fixing her clear blue gaze on him, her eyes a little paler than the rich sapphire eyes of another.
“I believe she’s been on vacation in the Lakes.”
“Are you sure, my love?” Lord Staines said. “I thought it was Derbyshire.”
“She wrote to Mimi—forgive me, Duchess Sawbridge, I should say—before Michaelmas, though her note was a little brief. I daresay she’s returned to Forthridge by now.
I was disappointed not to hear from her myself.
I wanted to ask her opinion on our holding an archery competition at Radham Hall this summer. ”
“You must write to her,” Lord Staines said.
“I will, but you must remind me, my love. I find I’m somewhat forgetful of late.”
“Well, that’s to be expected, given that—” He broke off, a flush of pleasure on his cheeks.
“I’m afraid I’ve told Colonel Reid our news,” she said. “But I can trust him to be discreet, can I not, colonel?”
“Of course you can,” Stephen said, offering his hand to Lord Staines. “Permit me to be the first to congratulate you on your forthcoming arrival.”
Lord Staines grinned and took the proffered hand. “Our third child,” he said, his smile broadening. “I am the most fortunate of men. When your turn comes, I trust you’ll realize your good fortune, and I’ll take much pleasure in offering you my congratulations in turn.”
He bowed and clicked his heels together, then he released Stephen’s hand and caught his wife’s arm.
“Now, my love, it’s time to return so you can take your rest. With luck, Mrs. Bragg will have baked those ginger biscuits you love so much.” He winked at Stephen. “My Juliette cannot get enough of them. When she was expecting our second child, she ate a whole batch.”
“Andrew!” Lady Staines swatted her husband over the arm, and he grinned. Then he dipped his head and snatched a swift kiss, and Stephen’s heart gave a little jolt at the expression of love they shared.
Laughing, they took their leave, and Stephen stood alone in the center of the path, watching them make their way to the park gates—a man and woman very much in love, with their beloved child walking by their side.
When your turn comes…
As soon as they were out of sight, Stephen turned and released the tide that had been swelling in his mind.
What if my turn has already come?
Could it be true?
Surely if it were, she’d have written, or Foxton would have come raging, pistol in hand, demanding honor be met?
Or perhaps they thought him of too little consequence to seek retribution or revenge.
Perhaps he did not matter enough.