Page 40 of Her Lion of a Duke
“Ah, I see.” Cecilia yelped as she pricked her finger. “Do you think that he will soon go back to normal, then?”
“Of course. It never lasts long. You may act as you please around him, though. If his behavior affects you, you are most welcome to tell him.”
“Perhaps it is best if I simply let him grieve? I am the first person to say when I feel wronged, but I cannot fathom how difficult it is to lose a brother.”
Mrs. Herrington smiled sympathetically and took a seat beside her.
The housekeeper had quickly become a friend to her, and though it was unexpected, Cecilia welcomed it with open arms. It was like having a mother with her, one who could guide her and tell her what she could do better.
She had never thought that a housekeeper could play that role, but she was pleased that hers did.
“I remember when I lost my brother,” Mrs. Herrington began. “I was furious with everyone. I was even angry with God for taking him from me. We did not have much, but we had each other. So when I lost Charles, I thought that I had nothing left.”
“Oh, Mrs. Herrington. I am so sorry. What changed?”
“I did. It might sound awful, but I had work to do and a husband to find. I only had one brother, and we had a mother and father to care for, so I had to do what was necessary. The sad truth is that the world does not care who we love and lose. We all have lives to live, and if we sit and cry and hold onto all that anger, what are we living for? I know that Charles would have told me to stop grieving, so why do it?”
Cecilia sat in stunned silence. Humans were supposed to grieve, and though she had never had to, she imagined it as the most unbearable pain in the world. She could not simply pick herself up and carry on; she knew it.
“You are far stronger than I,” she whispered.
“Not at all.” Mrs. Herrington smiled sadly. “You are simply fortunate to have never needed to find that strength.”
They remained quiet for a moment, Cecilia trying to focus on a tulip she was embroidering, when Mrs. Herrington coughed gently.
“If you wish to give him time, then do so. But he will have to let his brother go, eventually.”
Cecilia thought about that long after Mrs. Herrington had left. She knew what she wanted to do: sit with her husband and force him to tell her how he was feeling. But that was not fair. Sheneeded to let him do what he did every year, and then they could discuss the matter when he felt better.
That did not, however, make his sudden absence any easier to bear. They had lunch together that day, but Leonard did not look at her. He ate in silence, and each time Cecilia glanced at him, he had a blank look on his face.
“The sun is out again,” she commented. “That is far nicer than the storm, do you not think?”
He did not respond.
“I was considering a walk. Would you like to join me?”
Again, he did not respond.
Cecilia looked at him and wondered what had made him change so quickly. He had been gone for hours the night before; any number of things could have happened. It quickly occurred to her that she had heard whispers of ladies of the night attending gentlemen’s clubs, and unease coiled in her belly.
He would not have. He never would have, and yet…
“I am with child,” she announced.
He dropped his fork. He stared at her for a moment, and then the corner of his lips quirked up.
“Is that the only way I shall have your attention?” she asked.
“It was certainly something, for I would know for a fact that the child would not be mine. Do you want my attention so badly?”
“Why are you speaking to me this way? This is so unlike you.”
“Actually, Cecilia, this is precisely who I am. You may not like it, but it is the truth. I am not a perfect gentleman, and I have never pretended to be.”
“Perhaps not, but you have always been a friend. I do not understand what I have done to warrant such hatred from you.”
“I do not hate you. I simply remembered what this arrangement is.”
