Page 4

E dward Pryce, Earl of Marsdale, was standing in Longmeadow’s rose garden reminiscing, when the soft scrape of slippers against the flagstone path behind him caused him to turn.

Something inside his chest eased, as it so often did in response to his mother’s presence.

This was home – the place he’d grown up – an endless collection of wonderful memories that gave him comfort whenever the world beyond Longmeadow became too much.

As it had done repeatedly these past six months.

So much had happened. Too much. Most of it awful.

And yet, his heart had found a steadier rhythm over the course of the last two weeks. He knew the reason for this of course. It was all thanks to his godmother’s lovely companion, Miss Melody Roberts.

But with her lack of pedigree taken into account, both his closest friend, Adrian, and his godmother, had warned him away from the lady, which had come as a blow. Even though their point was valid: the illegitimate daughter of a laundress could not become attached to an earl without difficulty.

The matter required some serious contemplation, which was why he’d chosen to get away for a bit. So he could sort through his feelings and think.

Hell, he still wasn’t sure his acquaintance with Miss Roberts would lead to more than friendship. His heart remained raw from the loss of Evie. Her death had punched a hole in his chest, creating a pain so intense he feared he’d never recover.

Still, Miss Roberts had managed to stir emotions trapped deep within him. A need for happiness to fill his life once more. The desire to find a woman to dote on and love. A chance to settle down and start a family.

Whether or not he’d ever do so with her, he’d no idea. The feelings were unexpected and confusing.

What he did know was that he didn’t want anyone else interfering any more. When it came to this, only he could choose the right path. And he must do so without his family or friends, or even Miss Roberts, influencing his decision.

So he’d fled. In a way. Sought refuge.

Not that he hadn’t returned here for other reasons. Winter was coming. Several estate matters required immediate attention. He’d have come regardless. But he’d not have felt quite so…adrift.

“Mind if I join you?” Mama asked as she made her approach.

Only a few early strands of white hair hinted at her advancing years. Anyone who saw her from a distance would think her a much younger woman, no older than twenty. Her movements were full of vigor, her manner bright and cheerful.

It was hard to feel anything but energized when in her company. Even after Papa’s death ten years earlier, she’d had a life-doesn’t-end-for-the-rest-of-us-so-we’d-best-get-on-with-it kind of attitude. Even though Edward knew the experience had crushed her.

But she’d had three children to see to. Grown children, but children nonetheless in the way she’d viewed it. Whatever pain she’d felt had been set aside in order to make sure her daughters and son were all right. And somehow, through that, Edward reckoned she’d found her own way of healing.

The answering smile he gave her as she approached was full of love. “Your company is always welcome, Mama.”

“I worry you may not think so in a moment when I press you for answers.” A hint of mischief caught her eyes.

Despite the wave of apprehension that suddenly barreled through him, he managed a jovial tone as he said, “You’re free to ask me whatever you wish, just as I am free not to respond.”

A crease appeared on her brow and her mouth flattened a little. Having reached him, she slapped his upper arm and raised her chin. “There’s no point in being difficult, Edward. You know I’ll figure everything out in the end anyway.”

He chuckled. “Figure what out?”

“The reason behind your good cheer.”

“What?”

She angled her head, a secretive smile curving her lips, and glanced along the path that lead across to the pond. “Shall we stroll?”

“Very well.” She’d already made him her project. No point in trying to escape now. He offered his arm and steered her around a rose bed. “What is it you wish to know?”

It was a lovely day. Especially for this time of year.

While it had rained overnight, forcing a few loose leaves from the trees and leaving the soil moist, the sky had since cleared and the sun now warmed the air.

It warmed his face as they walked. Not as much as it would have during the summer, but enough to assure him that it would probably be another two months before winter truly arrived.

Mama tilted her head toward him, peeking out from beneath the brim of her cream-colored satin bonnet. Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. A tendril of dark hair fluttered against a rosy cheek.

When she spoke next, her voice was so warm it seemed to embrace him. “I know life has been cruel to you lately. When I saw the impact Evelyne’s death had upon you, I feared for your health, Edward.”

His throat tightened. “She and I should have married.”

It was the first time he had allowed himself to voice this out loud. For some stupid reason, he’d always kept his feelings for Evie private. So private, in fact, he’d never revealed the contents of his heart to Evie herself. Only to Adrian, after Evie was gone.

A mistake he’d never forgive himself for.

“Why didn’t you?”

Mama’s question shone an uncomfortable light on the shame he was now forced to live with. “I suppose I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

He pushed a deep breath from his lungs. Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they stepped off the flagstone path and approached the pond. The murky water rippled as the breeze brushed against it.

“Rejection, I suppose.” In so many forms. “I worried she might not feel as I did and that others wouldn’t approve the match.”

“Not me, I hope.” When Edward failed to respond Mama said, “Evelyne was a lovely young woman. What possible reason would I have had to oppose your attachment to her?”

He dropped an incredulous look toward her. “Had I married into that family you might not have been able to keep avoiding George Croft. Get-togethers would have been inevitable. Especially once any children arrived.”

Adrian’s father would have insisted on being a part of their lives. Dealing with him would not have been easy for any of them.

Mama pulled her arm from his and turned to him with a pained expression. “You blame me for not pursuing her.”

“No, Mama. I blame myself for not having the courage to turn my back on every doubt and concern I had about doing so. To simply ignore it, and push for the life of my choosing. To be open to failure and to find strength in knowing I had at least tried.”

Understanding seemed to relax her features.

She hugged herself and turned to look at the water.

“There’s no questioning my dislike of George Croft nor the fact that I’m glad he’s no longer able to make others suffer.

It pleases me to know his son is happily married.

Adrian’s mother would have been proud, perhaps even slightly relieved.

She worried for him, you know. After George took him to London.

I did what I could to keep her informed of the observations I made about Adrian’s life and upbringing, but as a mother I realize it wasn’t the same. ”

“That’s why you always quizzed me about him after one of his visits.”

She glanced at him, the pleasure he’d found on her face before now buried beneath a shadowed expression that made him feel slightly colder.

“Catharine, as you probably know, was French aristocracy.

Her parents sent both her and her brother to England in 1786, when they feared the rising tension brought on by an economic recession might make the lower classes desperate.

Catharine said her parents expected crime to explode and that they wanted to make sure their children were spared from such an experience.

“At the time, they believed it would be a temporary stay. One that would even ensure Catharine was given the chance to make her debut in London, where all things French were considered desirable. This was before Napoleon and his idiotic quest for power, you understand. And George Croft swooped in with his dashing good looks. He wooed her with endless charm and enough wealth to make her forget he was not the titled gentleman her parents no doubt had in mind for her.”

“You warned her against him?”

“Of course. She and I met at a private soiree hosted by Baroness Midhurst’s mother, who was also of French heritage. Catharine and her brother were in her care.”

“And neither the baroness’s mother nor Catharine’s brother objected George Croft’s suit?”

Mama sighed. Weariness slackened her features, accentuating signs of age that Edward hadn’t noticed before.

“The French Revolution happened, as one might say. George took advantage of the distraction – the emotional distress the situation placed on both siblings. While Catharine’s brother was busy drowning himself in a bottle or getting into fights, she sought comfort in George’s arms. Before anyone realized how it had come to pass, the two were married. ”

“It’s hard to imagine George Croft in such a way. As a romantic swain brought under a woman’s spell.”

A bitter laugh fell from Mama’s lips. “Don’t be fooled by what I’ve just told you. There’s no doubt in my mind that George pursued Catharine with deliberate intent. If you ask me, he used that marriage to elevate his own status. That’s all he saw in her. A means to an end.

“So you were right to suppose I’d no desire to spend as much as a second in his rotten company.

But that should not have deterred you. Indeed, I believe everything good about Catharine was passed to her daughter.

Thankfully, she was never influenced by George in the same way I fear Adrian may have been. ”

Edward allowed her comment to settle, allowed himself a moment in which to reflect upon it before he said, “And yet, Adrian is still the best man I’ve ever known. I’m lucky to call him a friend.”