Page 50 of The Duke's Second Bride
Luke was uncharacteristically quiet at dinner. In the days since their visit to the village, he had been chattering on and on about the books he was reading, and the garden, and all the tricks he was teaching Pudding.
But tonight, he was silent. Christian noticed with concern that not only was the boy not speaking, but he was also barely touching his food.
Luke hesitated, then shook his head.
“What is it?” Christian asked.
“I w-wish I remembered M-Mother more,” Luke said quietly.
One could hear a pin drop in the room, the quiet pressing in like a living thing.
“You know,” Christian began after a moment, “that is …” He cleared his throat. “There is no point in dwelling on it. You were very young when she passed on, and so it is perfectly normal that you wouldn’t remember her. To feel sad about something like that is a pointless waste of energy.”
Luke looked at his father in silence. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Don’t say that,” Ava said quietly.
Christian turned to look at her. “What?”
“His mother was an important part of your life,” Ava said. Her voice was even-tempered, infuriatingly reasonable sounding. “She still is.”
“She is n?—”
“Luke wouldn’t be here without her,” she said, softly but so firmly that Christian immediately went quiet. “It is perfectly normal for him to miss her. And to wish he remembered her better. I can’t think of a more natural thing.”
“And how, exactly, would you qualify yourself as an expert on the subject?” Christian asked, his temper beginning to come close to boiling over.
“You recall I am a widow myself,” she replied.
“I do not begrudge you your widowhood,” he said sharply. “But you do seem to have a great many opinions on child-rearing for a woman who has never borne a child of her own.”
Ava fell silent. Even across the table, he could see the hurt rising in her eyes. Damn it, he had gone too far.
“I—” he began, but was cut off by the scrape of her chair as she pushed it back and rose to her feet.
“Pardon my early departure,” she said, tears evident in her voice, “but I think I’d rather retire to my chambers now. Good night.”
She left too quickly for him to say anything.
Only Luke called after her, “G-g-good night, Ava.”
They passed several more minutes in silence, only broken by the sounds of silverware.
Finally, Luke put down his fork and said, “F-Father, m-may I p-p-please be excused?”
Christian nodded, holding back a sigh. “Yes, Luke. Good night,” he said.
“Good night, F-f-father,” Luke said. At the door, he paused, forcing his maid to stop as well, and turned. “A-A-Ava isn’t s-so mad that she’ll l-l-leave us, w-will she?”
Christian’s heart sank. Not only had he upset Ava, but he had failed his son again. Not only that, but it was a stark reminder of how Ava had managed to bond with Luke in just a few weeks of knowing him, in a way Christian hadn’t managed to do in eleven years.
“No,” he said after a moment. “Of course not.” He doubted the words himself as he spoke them.
But it seemed to reassure Luke, wiping some of the tension from his face. He nodded wordlessly and then turned and let his maid take him to bed.
Once alone, Christian sighed, rubbing his face with both hands.
It wasn’t a lie, he told himself.
