Chapter 13 #2
Perry joined the guardsmen and was scanning the vicinity, while Sophia did her best to ignore the large men, and perplexed nursemaid, following them en masse.
A veritable army surrounded them to protect them on a simple walk in the park.
She sighed. Richard felt it was necessary, but that did not prevent it from being irritating.
They walked along a path with rolling green lawns spread in every direction while above their heads mature trees laden with fresh spring leaves cast shade.
Couples and groups of ladies passed by, and at the canal in the distance, boys were floating toy boats under the watchful gaze of their nursemaids.
Nearing the canal, Ethan’s excitement mounted, and he tugged eagerly on his father’s hand to walk faster.
“Are those boats, Papa? Where did they get them?”
“From a toy shop, I should think. Would you like one?”
Ethan’s eyes widened in delight. “My own boat? That I can put in the water?”
“If you would like. We can find a shop and return here in a few days.”
“But … I do not know how to sail it.”
“Would you like me to teach you?”
Sophia listened to her husband and her adopted son chattering about sailing toy boats and skimming stones, her heart melting in her chest. Richard might be a half-wit who did not include her in his troubles, but he was a sweet half-wit who was proving to be a doting father.
The stubborn ox was worth a little patience, she supposed.
Just then Ethan cried out in delight, pointing a tiny finger at a pelican that landed in the water nearby. Both she and Richard grinned at his obvious thrill before Sophia sank back into her thoughts.
She would appreciate it if he found his way to telling her about his troubles soon.
She was certain she could offer a perspective that might help resolve the situation.
Not to mention, an honest conversation would alleviate the recent development of grinding her teeth in vexation to maintain her forbearance.
After their visit to the park, Ethan went upstairs to play in the nursery and Sophia disappeared into the library. The outing had been a welcome respite, even with his brother and the two Johns skulking in the background as guardsmen.
Richard was thankful that he had a wife in his home to guide him.
She had instigated all the activities with Ethan over the past few days, and Richard was growing to know his son as a result.
There was little doubt that without her help, he would be horribly mishandling the boy without a clue of what to do.
With this in mind, he took time from penning his lengthy list of potential enemies to pick up the small leather-bound volume of poetry the duke had gifted him. Leafing through the poems, he thought about Halmesbury’s advice, to be honest with Sophia about the shameful note in his pocket.
But the note was so despicable a remark on his own character that even His Grace, Philip Markham, the magnanimous Duke of Halmesbury of legendary philanthropic works could not help but judge Richard after reading it.
He had seen it on his cousin’s face. On the other hand, the guilt of hiding it from Sophia was weighing on him.
He thought back to how understanding she had been about everything that was occurring, and how impressed he was with her composure in the face of adversity.
Pulling the note from his pocket, he stared at it for some time while he thought about his options. Finally, he placed it back into his pocket. He must tell her. He would tell her—immediately after his meeting with his man of business.
Radcliffe appeared at the door, announcing Johnson’s arrival.
The man scurried past the butler and took a seat when Richard gestured to the chair.
The trusted steward of his business affairs appeared quite nervous today.
Beads of sweat dotted his bulbous forehead, and his navy eyes were evasive.
He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his face while Richard began to worry that Johnson was bringing him bad news, but he held his tongue while Johnson scrambled through his papers.
Perhaps his retainer was harried from all the extra work Richard was giving him?
“Mr. Long and I managed to investigate all the women on the list, my lord. We still need to approach the remainder, but you will be pleased to hear that there does not appear to be any more … offspring.”
Richard exhaled a deep breath of relief.
“That is something.” It was fantastic news.
It was a mercy he had not inadvertently abandoned more children to their fate.
There was only Ethan, who had fortunately been well taken care of by his extended family, so his father’s unintentional neglect had done no lasting damage.
Johnson went through the list and reported what he had found.
To his great relief, Richard could complete his apologies and suitable reparations over the next few weeks and close the door on his past. He stood up, ready to end the meeting.
Johnson remained seated, his eyes averted.
Richard felt his heart plunging into his boots. There was more.
“What is it?”
“I was at my offices preparing my report. On my way here, I passed by those print shops …”
Richard resumed breathing in light-headed relief.
He already knew about the caricature. He waited while Johnson leafed through his leather portfolio and pulled out a page.
The man’s hand was shaking when he reached forward to place it on the desk between them.
Richard glanced down, prepared to dismiss the man, when he noticed the illustration.
It was not the same one. This was a new drawing.
His body suddenly felt quite heavy, so he dropped back in his chair. With a fortifying breath, he picked the print up to look at it closer, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
The drawing depicted two ladies calmly sipping tea.
One of the women was meant to be Sophia, colored with her unique red-blonde hair.
Around them stormed a horde of children—at least a dozen curly-haired devils with green eyes and demonic expressions—over the sofa where the women were seated, running amok between the furnishings, and climbing the draperies like monkeys spawned from the depths of hell.
In fine, slanting print below, there was a caption.
“Lady S., are any of these children yours?”
Richard growled, his gaze transfixed on the page.
From a distance, he heard Johnson making his excuses and fleeing the room while he continued to stare down at the offensive drawing.
It took several minutes to gain control, and he found himself alone in his study when he finally dropped the drawing on his desk and stood up.
He walked over to the window and stood staring out at the enclosed gardens in the middle of the square, seeking a clear head.
When he found out who was behind this, he was going to tear the man apart, limb from limb.