Page 56 of Loving Mister Stratford
She could do this.
Shehadto do this.
She loved Simon with everything in her. If he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) accept it, then she’d transfer that same affection to the babe within her womb. She’d—
A sharp shout and the thunder of boots in the hallway shattered her unhappy musings. Jeremy and George shared a brief, startled glance before dropping their cards and rising to their feet.
The door to the parlor banged open with enough force to cause the tea service to tremble and clatter; an uncharacteristically disheveled Simon was followed closely by the panting, disgruntled butler.
“My lord—my apologies. M—Mr. Stratford—I could not—”
George frowned at his younger brother’s appearance, but his tone was not unkind.“It’s alright, Percey. My brother is always welcome.”
The butler ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, tugged at his lapel, and bowed before taking his leave, clearly still irked that he’d been brought down to such a lack of decorum.
“Well, brother,” George began to address Simon;“what is all this then? I don’t think I’ve seen you create such a scene in decades.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be in Lincolnshire?” Jeremy asked with a tilt of his dark head and then added;“Did yourideall the way to London? In this weather?” A chill had settled over England, heralding the official shift of the seasons from Fall to Winter. Frost coated the grass in the mornings and didn’t disappear until afternoon.
Odette remained speechless on the sofa near the center of the room. She and the other women were situated between the door and the card table George and Jeremy had once occupied. She was helpless to do aught but stare wide-eyed at her husband; she barely managed to tamp down the urge to fling herself into his arms. To her, there had never been a more welcome—or handsome—sight.
Gone was the starched propriety of his usual demeanor. He wore no cravat—either out of ease or if it had been lost on the road—and, indeed, it did appear that he’d ridden hell-to-leather back down to London from Lincolnshire. His golden hair was tousled and his face was pink from the lashing winter wind and flecked with mud. At least three days-worth of dark blond stubble covered his chin and cheeks. His lean chest heaved beneath his soiled linen shirt, which was untucked from the waist of his dirt-streaked buckskin breeches.
“Simon?” George’s voice finally began to reveal his concern.“What happened—”
“Odette,” Simon croaked, effectively cutting off his elder brother. He cleared his throat and spoke more forcefully, his flashing blue-green eyes never leaving her face. Her pulse began to race uncontrollably.“Why did you say nothing?” he demanded, and she knew instantly to what (or, rather, to whom) he referred.“Why did you not tell me of the baby?” The ferocity in his tone would have caused a man to tremble where he stood, but Odette knew her husband. She had no fear of physical retribution, but she also knew how earned his anger was. She didn’t know how he’d discovered the pregnancy, though that was beside the point.
He’d come.
And she could read the very real pain and fear in his eyes. This was a man who had come to accept his place in the world and was confident in the truths of his existence. And here she had shaken his understanding and wounded him deeply.
The room around them was so silent it was a wonder they didn’t hear the wood and stone of the building settling around them. Everyone was so used to Simon’s carefully-modulated behavior that the uncharacteristic outburst had all but struck them dumb.
Suddenly feeling rather like an actress on stage who’d forgotten to learn her lines, Odette stammered—not out of fear of her husband, but because she didn’t know how to make things right.“S—Simon…I—I wanted…That is to say…” Her guilt rose up to choke her like bile.
There was a flash of fiery hair to her right and Meredith quite literally stood in Odette’s defense.“I’m sorry, Odette, for breaking your confidence. I hadn’t realized Simon didn’t know and when I wrote to him…well, I was so upset because I believed hedidknow and still chose to stay away.” George limped over to his wife and slid a protective arm around her waist.
Simon’s wild eyes turned back to Odette. Setting aside Meredith’s interjection entirely, he uttered one pleading word to his wife:
“Why?”
Where she’d previously been keenly aware of all the eyes on her, the room immediately died away around them so it was only Odette and Simon. She fisted her hands in the fabric of the skirts at her hips.
“I—I was postponing telling you because I didn’t wish to interrupt your work.” Suddenly, all the words began to gain strength from her frustrations and sadness of these past few months; they poured forth from her like a leak in a dam.“Why else would you have left in the first place? I was obviously an unnecessary distraction—and I can accept that; I knew having to share your home and your life with me was a diversion from your work. I was trying to respect your wishes.”
All at once her husband’s face crumpled; a strangled groan was wrenched from his chest as he lurched forward to close the gap between them and fall to his knees at her feet.
“I wished to protect you, Odette. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he choked out. He pressed forward into the cradle of her legs and wrapped his long arms around her waist. She barely registered his sudden nearness before he pressed his head into her lap and squeezed her to him like a lifeline.
“Come,” Odette dimly heard Jeremy murmur to Lily as he helped her to her feet.“Let’s give them some privacy. George and Jeremy then ushered their respective spouses out the door, though Odette doubted any of them went too far. She likely wouldn’t have if she were in their position, truth be told, so she couldn’t blame them.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Odette and Simon alone in heavy, anticipatory silence. She gazed down at her husband’s strong form, literally brought to his knees by the news that he was going to be a father…and the sense of betrayal that she’d kept the news hidden from him.
Her appeasing nature made her want to take full responsibility for the fissures in their marriage—to fall to her own knees beside him and apologize—but she had been betrayed as much as he. Simon had abandoned her with only a poor explanation. She’d respected his wishes, but he’d left her hollow and lost. Her husband had absconded with a piece of her when he’d fled to Lincolnshire, and she’d allowed it.
No more, she decided. She loved her husband, but her own heart and joy needn’t be sacrificed at the altar of these feelings. She deserved just as much care and consideration as she’d given to him. She had needs, as well.
And she needed her husband.
