Page 128 of The Duelist for the Ton
“His father?” Stephen said. “I thought…”
“Myhusbandis Gabriel’s father.”
“Of course. I meant no disrespect.”
“You’ve said nothing I’ve not heard elsewhere,” she said. “Fatherhood is more than a blood tie, you know. But, of course, that’s something you are yet to understand.”
Now it was Stephen’s turn to blush as he recalled his first declaration of love to her—when she was Miss Howard.
She placed a light hand on his arm. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to distress you, colonel. My life is complete now I have afamily to love. Gabriel is my world, and it makes my heart sing to see how deeply Andrew cares for him.”
“And quite right,” Stephen said as he caught sight of a young boy further along the path, jumping by the water’s edge, laughing animatedly, while the man next to him held his hand. “He’s a charming boy.” He held out his arm. “May I?”
She hesitated, and he tempered the shame at his former infatuation. Then she smiled and took his arm.
“Of course,” she said. “We are acquaintances, are we not? And, if I may be so bold, I think we can call ourselves friends. We both wish each other happy, which is the mark of true friendship.”
He steered her along the path toward Lord Staines and the little boy, who were too engrossed in the swans to notice anything else.
“My sister is in Town,” she said.
“Is she well?”
She colored and gave a soft smile. “I’m sure she won’t mind my telling a friend, but she’s expecting her fourth child. Montague is, of course, terribly protective of her, but she insisted that he remain in the country while she came to Town. A doting husband is a joy to behold—but he can get a littletooprotective. He made Eleanor promise to send word if she felt unwell, and he made me promise to visit her daily. But I fear she’ll soon tire of my company. I’m sure she’d appreciate a fellow admirer of art. After all, didn’t you take her to see the Royal Academy exhibition the year before she…”
Her voice trailed away and her cheeks reddened. Stephen’s heart have a little cry at the distress in her eyes as she evidently recalled the scandal that had driven her sister from London.
“I did not have the pleasure of escorting your sister to the exhibition,” he said. “I believe she left London to spend a few days by the sea.”
A strained silence fell as they continued along the path. Then they approached a clear patch of grass, and Stephen’s stomach cramped in horror as he recognized the spot where the Farthing had fallen—where he had shot the woman he loved then walked away, not bothering to look back.
No wonder she hates me.
“I beg pardon?” Lady Staines said.
“Forgive me. I was beset by a memory.”
“A painful memory?”
He nodded.
“You must embrace it, colonel, for it is unwise to bury it. Memories—and secrets—have a way of resurfacing when you least expect. And if you’re unprepared, they can breach your defenses and lead to heartbreak.”
“Surely it’s better to look to the future.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But one day, my Gabriel will discover the truth about his birth. I’d rather he heard it from me than the gossipmongers. Did you know that I”—she hesitated—“almost gave him up?”
She turned to him, and his heart ached at the pain in her eyes.
“I only considered it for a moment—and I was subject to the influence of others—but even so, that moment will haunt me. My mother—”
“Lady Staines, there’s no need to tell me.”
She drew in a deep breath, then let out a sigh.
“Society can be a cruel beast,” she said. “Unforgiving, relentless in its capacity to judge others it considers unworthy, yet it directs envy and spite at those it seeks to praise. I myself am more guilty than most of harboring envy.”
“Whom do you envy?”
