Page 28 of For a Lady's Fiery Heart
Dressed in only his long white shirt and trousers, he walked out from behind the screen, leaving his suit jacket and trousers discarded in a pile. His waistcoat was the only thing he took care with, hanging it over the back of the settee. It contained his pocket watch and keys to the house, so he did not want to be careless.
He went to the end of the bed and procured a blanket, although he was unsure if he would need it, being so close to the fire. "My father was very hard on me growing up, especially after my mother died. He wanted me to be all that I could be, I suppose."
He heard Caroline shift and looked over the back of the settee. She had leaned up on an elbow, her golden hair flowing loose and long around her shoulders. The firelight glowed orange on her face, and he wished he could be beside her.
"I am sorry it was difficult for you." Caroline lay back down, and so James did as well. He studied the ceiling, trying to slow the wild beating of his heart.
After a few seconds' pause, Caroline again spoke up. "You turned out to be a good man from all I have seen so far."
James smiled to himself. "Well, thank you. I do try to be."
"You succeed on every count," Caroline replied softly.
Taking a deep breath, he held it in for a few seconds, trying not to think too long about his mother. Even still, he knew very little about her. He had rarely spoken of her since it seemed to be too painful for his father. She had left a large hole in both of their lives when she died.
"What was she like?" Caroline asked.
He thought for a moment. "In many ways, she was a lot like you. She was very quiet and calm, a very serene presence about the house. However, she also knew how to host the most wonderful parties. I was only five or six, but I remember sneaking down the grand staircase a way and watching the festivities when my nanny thought I was asleep."
He shifted. The settee was not the most comfortable bed he could have found, he was sure. But he did not want to leave Caroline alone in the large room by herself, especially with a storm raging above them.
"Mind you, she was a dark beauty, so that is where the main differences lie between the two of you. She had raven-black hair and steel grey eyes."
"What was her first name?" Caroline's voice floated over to him, and he could hear that she was growing sleepy. He could have kicked himself for never mentioning it.
"Her name was Hannah," he replied.
"Hannah." Caroline seemed to test the name. "That is a lovely name."
James propped his arm above his head. "Yes, it is," he agreed.
A long pause ensued. However, he was sure she wanted to say more. He heard her shift again. Thanks to the warmth of the fire and the champagne, he started to drift off to sleep.
Caroline's voice floated over to him, sending his heart racing again. "Maybe someday, if we have a daughter, we could name her after your mother."
James was overcome with emotion at her thoughtfulness. He poked his head over the settee and saw her smiling at him. "I would like that very much."
Chapter 16
It was too good to be true. Caroline walked around her childhood home, just as it had been before they had been forced to vacate. Music seemed to swirl around her, following her through every room. When she came to the parlour, she saw Grace sitting at the piano, practising her scales as an older woman watched. Their mother watched, sitting a few paces away in the sitting area near the hearth. Grace could not have been more than five years old.
A sinking feeling took over her stomach. If Grace were five, the fateful day they had been forced from their home would soon be upon them.
Her father appeared out of the corner of her eye. However, he did not seem to notice her. He went up and kissed Grace on the cheek.
“How is my little angel today?” he asked.
Caroline approached, curious. Grace beamed up at their father. “I am learning my scales, Papa! Miss Prescott says I am doing very well.”
“Miss Prescott is the finest piano teacher in all of England. She should know, dearest.”
Caroline could not have been more confused. If her memory served her, they could not even afford to keep the pianoforte at that point, let alone an expensive piano teacher.
“Wait a minute. What is happening here?” Caroline asked, moving toward her family. However, they did not even seem like they could hear her.
“Thank you for letting me learn to play, Papa,” Grace said as she turned around on the piano bench. She began practising her scales once more, and her father listened intently. It was only then that Caroline noticed the fine clothes her parents and Grace were wearing.
“Well, now that Caroline is no longer living with us, sucking up every last penny we have, we are able to do all the things we have dreamed of,” was her father’s reply.
