Page 63 of A Lord Apart (The Way to a Lord's Heart 2)

“Or she’d found someone who shared her interests,” said Miss Pendleton.

He remembered what Macklin had told him about the way his father changed after his engagement. That didn’t sound like sharing.

“The next letter is from a whole year later,” his companion continued. “I wonder if all their correspondence is here?” She began to read.

Dear Serene Serena,

Congratulations on the birth of your son, though I must scold you for not having sent me word yourself. Am I really to hear such news from Letty Crane?

We are following in each other’s footsteps once again as I had a boy as well. We have named him Philip. Jared is pleased and proud, as I’m sure your viscount is as well. Men set such store in handing along their titles.

They don’t quite tell you how difficult childbirth is, do they? Or perhaps they do, but one can’t really know until the time comes. I hope you are not as worn down as I have been.

It seems a long age of the world since we met. When I think of our endless talks at school, I get quite teary. Perhaps we can arrange a visit soon. Jared is not averse to a trip to London once I have recovered. And naturally you are always welcome here.

Your forever friend,

Kate

“I don’t think they ever visited,” Miss Pendleton said. “I never heard about it if they did.”

“Nor I,” replied Daniel. But then he probably wouldn’t have. He took up the next letter.

Dear Kate,

I am sorry to be slow in answering your letter. I’ve been languishing in my bed. Me! Can you imagine it? “Difficult” is a pale word to describe childbearing. You teased me about mentioning Prometheus, but I now know precisely how he felt as the eagle ripped at his entrails. You were right. A society party is not nearly that bad. Giving birth assuredly is! Our son—we have called him Daniel—had no easy passage into the world. Indeed, the doctors tell me I shall never have another child. I must say that this news was a relief. I certainly don’t wish to endure that agony again.

I’m sad to say that a visit is not likely just now. As soon as I am fully recovered, we are departing for the West Indies. My plans begin to take form at last!

Your ever friend,

Serena

Daniel wondered whether his mother had held the pain of his birth against him. She’d never mentioned it, any more than she’d told him why he had no siblings. He tried to think of one confidence she’d shared with him, and came up empty. The final lines sounded like the parent he remembered, more eager to set off for new places than to see her old friend.

“There must be some letters missing,” said Miss Pendleton. “There was no teasing about Prometheus in these.” She turned over the rest of the papers that had come from his mother’s desk. “I don’t see any others.”

“Perhaps some were lost, or thrown away.” His voice sounded distant, Daniel thought. He was feeling odd. None of his imaginings of growing closer to his parents had been like this. Miss Pendleton gave him a sidelong glance as she unfolded the next letter.

Dear Serene Serena,

I hope you are feeling better. I’m sorry that you will have no more children. I should like several, if my health allows. I’m determined it shall, though I’ve had another of my wearisome bouts of fever. Indeed, I find I am too weary to write much now. I will do better next time. May your journey be all you hoped for.

Your forever friend,

Kate

“My mother was often ill,” Miss Pendleton said. “She had a recurring fever, which weakened her lungs. The least ailment sent her to her bed. For weeks sometimes.”

“And mine didn’t write back to her for more than a year,” Daniel replied, looking at the next letter in the sequence. “I suppose she was traveling and too busy for a friend. That would be like her.”

“There might be other lost letters.”

“I doubt it.” He pushed on with reading before she could reply.

Dear Kate,

I weep every time I hear that you’ve been poorly again. If only I had not dragged you into those dreadful marshes, and you so full of pluck, keeping watch while I tried to find that sailor’s shack and extract his story. When you fell ill afterward—I swear I’ve never regretted anything more. If I could go back and change that day, please believe that I would do so in an instant.

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