Page 37 of A Tale of Two Dukes

He stood in the darkness in a room that smelled of her perfume, of her, with the door open a crack, and heard low conversation, bustle, and unfamiliar little mewing cries that pierced his heart.

After a while, he could not have said how long, Viola said softly, ‘You can come out now, Richard. I’ve sent Sarah back to bed to get some sleep.

She won’t come here again unless I ring for her. ’

He crept out, feeling ridiculously shy, and saw that she was already feeding one of the twins, his mouth sucking busily at her full breast, while the other lay swaddled in a tiny bundle on the pillow beside her.

‘This is Robin, my greedy boy, and that is Ned. Why don’t you hold him? He isn’t as hungry, and Robin will take some time.’

Richard sat down beside her on the bed and very, very carefully picked up his oldest son.

He was awkward, clumsy – he’d never held a child before, let alone his own.

His throat closed up with tears and for a moment, he could not speak.

The baby was so small that it was easy enough to manoeuvre him into the crook of his arm, as he’d seen people do, his head with its dark, downy covering resting against the rough sleeve.

His dark-blue eyes were open and he looked up at his trembling father, his face crumpled as if in enquiry, though Richard could not have said what so small a child could actually see.

Just shapes, perhaps, and light and shadow. Nothing he could ever remember.

When he was reasonably confident that he could get a word or two out, Richard croaked, ‘Ned?’

‘Edward had the naming of him, so he is Edward, officially. Lord Cluny, so very grand. An earl, by courtesy, while Winterflood lives, and then Duke. But he will never be Edward to me, you can be sure of that. I call him Ned.’

‘He’s so beautiful. They both are.’ It was his turn to weep.

‘We made them, Richard. Even if no one else ever knows it – even if they never do – you and I know it. I also know that’s not enough for you, but it will have to be. I can’t give you any more than that. Not even, as you said, if Edward died tomorrow.’

The room fell silent, save for the busy sucking of Lord Robin and the crackle of the fire that the maid must have built up before she left.

Richard had so many things he wanted to say, but said none of them, holding the baby, who was barely any weight at all in his arms. How did people bear it?

How did the world go on turning when this was all that mattered?

Lord Cluny gave a huge yawn, and Richard, his heart full, stroked his tiny hand, then bent to brush his forehead in a kiss. ‘My son,’ he whispered. ‘My dear son. I am so sorry.’

After a while, Ned began to make restless movements with his head, and Viola, already experienced in his ways after so short a time, said, ‘He’s hungry too. If you place him here, I can try to feed him too. It’s tempting to do one after the other, but if I do that, I will never sleep at all.’

Richard set him down as she directed, and Viola managed it so that he could latch on too, and began feeding, though less vigorously than his brother.

‘You’re very good at this,’ he told her. It shook him, seeing her so assured and confident. He felt quite superfluous, which, of course, he was.

‘There is a trick to it,’ she murmured, looking down at them both, absorbed. ‘There’s a woman on the estate, a farmer’s wife, who had twins a few months ago, and my mother found it out somehow and had her come and show me how best to do it. I don’t know how I would have managed otherwise.’

‘I’d like to hold Robin too before I go,’ he said.

‘You can help me change their napkins – both of them – before you leave. Let poor Sarah sleep.’

He watched her as she fed them, storing up the precious sight which he knew he’d never see again. It was impossible to deny the fact that he had no place in her life. He knew it; he’d said it himself. So why did it still hurt so much?