Chapter Five
Four days later…
M iss Sheldon had not returned to the Lyon’s Den since the night of the auction, but that had not prevented Oliver from thinking about her. He assumed that Middlemarch had her holed up somewhere, forcing her to comply with all his demands before he honored his contract and made an honest woman out of her, and the idea plagued him.
For Oliver, the Lyon’s Den had lost its luster. It no longer silenced his pain. But it was still far better than his Park Avenue mansion, where the silence had become especially haunting. He could not sleep and eventually gave up trying. Instead, he took to sitting by the fire in his study all night, a glass of brandy in hand. There he sat, watching the flames, and thinking of his wife’s wide beautiful smile and her chocolate eyes that used to make him melt. Is this what he wanted for the rest of his life? To have memories only? To live with this loneliness? This silence? Why should he deny himself another chance at happiness? Would it be so bad to raise another man’s child?
Of course not. That was not the problem. It was fear that plagued him. Fear of loss. Fear of pain. Anything was better than experiencing such pain again, even silence.
When the first rays of light seeped through the curtains into the study, he stood and went back to his room, retrieved his morning coat, and left the house. He enjoyed having time alone in the park before it was filled with people selling their wares, promenading, and riding. He loved the peacefulness of the early morning amongst the greenery. He could stand and watch the fowl in St. James’s canal for hours.
But on this morning, it seemed that someone else had had the same idea as him. As he approached the canal, he saw the figure of a woman leaning on the Chinese bridge that had been built the previous year as part of the Grand Jubilee celebration. He thought it odd that she was alone. Her dress indicated that she was upper class, and so she should at least have had a maid accompanying her. He mounted the bridge and intended to stroll past, not wanting to disturb the lady, but as he got closer, he saw that her shoulders shook. The woman was weeping. He could not walk away and leave a damsel in distress. That was not in his nature.
“Miss,” he said gently, “are you in need of any assistance?”
She turned, a handkerchief pressed to her face, and her dark eyes filled with tears.
It was Miss Sheldon. He stepped back in surprise.
“Lord Knox!” Miss Sheldon pulled the handkerchief from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“I was unable to sleep and stepped out for an early morning walk. What about you? Has something happened? Did someone hurt you? Was it Middlemarch?”
“No, it’s nothing. I’m perfectly fine.” She sniffed and turned from him.
“Where is your aunt?” he asked, looking around despite the park being empty. “You shouldn’t be in the park alone, especially at this hour when no one is about.”
“That is the best time to be in the park.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Obviously you know that, or you wouldn’t be here yourself.”
“But I am a man. It’s dangerous for a woman to be here unchaperoned.”
“I know.” Miss Sheldon sighed. “And thank you for your concern. But I just needed some time alone—to think. It’s been so—” She pressed the handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”
“But if no one has hurt you, then please tell me what the matter is. As I told you the other night, I want to help.”
Miss Sheldon shook her head. “You cannot help me. No one can.” She turned back to the canal and gazed at the swans gliding along the water. “I made a mistake, but I am not a bad person. I was betrothed and deeply in love. Have you ever lost anyone dear to you, Lord Knox? The pain is quite unbearable.”
His heart went out to her. What had this poor woman done wrong besides love someone? “I know.” He leaned his forearms on the bridge and stood beside her gazing at the water. “I lost my wife two years ago. She was the light of my life. Since her death, my world has been dark and silent. It’s the silence that I find most unbearable. That’s why I frequent the Lyon’s Den. The noise provides some relief.”
“How did she die?” Oliver felt Miss Sheldon’s eyes on him.
He turned to her and swallowed. Her eyes were so like Beatrice’s that he had to force himself not to look away again as he relived the painful memory. “She developed a headache,” he said. “I sent her to lie down with a cup of tea, but she couldn’t rest. The pain grew worse. I gave her some laudanum, and it eased her pain enough to allow her to sleep. She awoke in the middle of the night after the drug had worn off in excruciating agony. She knew then that she was dying. She told me so and begged me to be happy after she was gone. I refused to accept it and sent one of my servants to fetch the doctor, but she died before he arrived.”
“How horrible,” Miss Sheldon said.
“I shouldn’t have sent her to bed with laudanum and waited to fetch the doctor. But it was only a headache. She often suffered from them. Who knew a headache could kill? If only I’d called the doctor sooner.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself,” Miss Sheldon put a gloved hand on his arm, and her touch filled him with warmth. “It was only a headache. How were you to know?”
Oliver shook his head. “The doctor couldn’t make sense of it. It was simply inexplicable. She was young, healthy, and so full of life, yet killed by a simple headache.”
“I’m sorry,” Miss Sheldon said. “Life can be cruel. Perhaps I am lucky to be marrying a man I could never love.”
The sadness in her voice was palpable, and Oliver’s heart ached for her and for himself. To deny oneself love for fear of loss suddenly seemed ludicrous. The eight years he’d spent with his wife had been the happiest of his life. Despite the pain of her loss, he could never regret the love they’d shared. “You’re wrong,” he said suddenly. “Don’t marry that rogue Middlemarch. You deserve to love again.”
She gave him a sad smile. “We had this conversation already, my lord, and I told you then that I don’t have a choice.”
Oliver went silent. What do you have to lose? The Black Widow’s words came back to him. If you truly cannot have a child of your own, then this is your chance to gain a family. To be happy again. No one will know any differently.
“Kate.” He reached and brushed a chestnut strand from her face. “What I told Mrs. Dove-Lyon—it was a mistake. If you’ll permit it, I’d like to reconsider.”
“Reconsider?” She took a step back as if rejecting the idea with her whole body.
“What I mean is—I’d like us to spend some time together, and if you find me agreeable—suitable—I’d like to—” he paused.
“You’d like to do what?” She cocked her head. “Propose marriage?” Her tone was incredulous and somewhat harsh.
“Perhaps?” he said, surprised by her anger. “If we find each other agreeable.”
“But it’s too late! I’m already betrothed.”
“And I told you Middlemarch won’t be a problem.”
“I don’t want to marry a man who pities me.” She straightened her shoulders. “Middlemarch may be cruel, but at least he doesn’t pity me.”
“That’s not—” he began.
Thank you, Lord Knox,” Miss Sheldon said, cutting him off, “for your very kind offer of help. I know you mean well, and I appreciate the gesture, but I made my own choices, and now I must pay the price. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back before my aunt misses me. Good day, my lord,” she said, rushing past him as her tears started to flow again.
Oliver stood frozen, knowing he should chase after her and insist on escorting her home, but he could not move. The silence of the early morning engulfed him as he watched her go.
“Where in the world have you been, Kate?” I have been worried sick.” Aunt Jane put down her newspaper as Kate entered the breakfast room.
“Only in the park, Aunt. You needn’t have worried. You know I enjoy a morning walk when I have difficulty sleeping.”
“You went to the park unchaperoned? Kate, you know better than that!”
“Oh, Aunt, I have enough to worry about without concerning myself with London gossips.”
Aunt Jane’s face softened. “Why have you had difficulty sleeping? Is something wrong? Is the babe—”
“No,” Kate said. It’s nothing like that.” She poured herself a cup of tea and sat beside her aunt at the round breakfast table. “It’s a lovely morning, and a walk in the fresh air did me a world of good.”
“Did it?” Her aunt stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. “Because you look perturbed. I can tell you’ve been crying. Did something happen?”
Kate hesitated, uncertain whether or not she should tell her aunt about her meeting with the earl.
“What is it?” Her aunt pressed. “I know you, Kate. You can’t hide things from me. I know something happened, and as your aunt and chaperone here in London, I demand you tell me.”
Kate sighed. “It’s nothing, really. I bumped into Lord Knox in the park, that’s all.”
“The earl?”
Kate nodded.
“The same earl that Mrs. Dove-Lyon thought would be a good match for you?”
Kate nodded again.
Her aunt pursed her lips. “Well, I’m sorry for him. He had the opportunity to be matched with a wonderful woman like you, and he chose against even meeting with you. Did he seem to know who you were?”
“He knew exactly who I was,” Kate said.
“How odd.” Her aunt sipped her tea.
“Not really. In fact, I’ve noticed him watching me at the Lyon’s Den on more than one occasion. We even spoke the night of the auction.”
“The night of the auction and this morning?”
Kate nodded.
“What did he say?”
“He suggested that he’d made a mistake telling Mrs. Dove-Lyon he wasn’t interested and advised me not to marry Middlemarch.”
Her aunt, who was about to take another sip of tea, froze. “He what?” she said.
“He voiced his objection to Middlemarch as a good match for me and said perhaps we should spend some time together getting acquainted.”
Her aunt put her teacup down slowly. “And what did you say to that?”
“I said no, of course.”
“You said no to an earl?” Her aunt reiterated as though she could not believe her own ears.
Kate dropped a lump of sugar into her teacup and sighed. “He’s too late. I’m already bound to Middlemarch.”
“I simply don’t understand,” her aunt pressed. “You’ve expressed your dislike for Middlemarch, and this is your chance to escape marriage to him—and to a man far more powerful. He knows about your babe, and he accepts you as you are!”
“He doesn’t want to marry me,” Kate said. “He feels sorry for me.”
“You don’t have the luxury of a second love match, Kate.”
“I know that. But I’d rather enter into a loveless union than marry a man who feels sorry for me. I cannot stand to be the object of someone’s pity.” She shuddered at the notion that the earl’s beautiful gray eyes would never burn with passion for her as Theo’s had done. She’d rather endure a man she despised than endure a lifetime with a man who could never reciprocate her feelings. The realization shocked Kate, and she gasped out loud. How could she betray Theo’s memory by desiring another man a mere two months after his death? What kind of a dishonorable woman was she? If she was that fickle, then she deserved her fate with Middlemarch. She’d had her chance at love, which was more than some ever got.
A flock of starlings swooped into the garden and caught Kate’s eye. She got up and walked to the window just in time to see them swoop out again and watched as they soared into the sky. She sighed. Freedom really was for the birds. They can fly free, but I must repress my fickle desires and learn to keep my mouth closed and my heart buried. It is the right thing to do, and do it I shall, no matter how difficult.