Page 10 of His Runaway Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #3)

CHAPTER 10

E dward stood on the terrace, breathing in the cold air, trying to steady his nerves.

The morning was crisp and fresh, with a layer of frost on the ground. Not too icy, though.

Come on, man. You aren’t diving off the edge of a cliff. You’re spending quality time with your son. There’s no need to be nervous.

His internal scolding did not seem to be working. Anxiety still fizzled in his gut. To distract himself, he strode over to where the groom stood with three horses—Edward’s favorite gelding, a horse for the groom to follow behind, and a smaller, sweet-tempered mare that would bear Alex safely.

“He should be down at any moment,” Edward spoke.

The groom bowed but said nothing.

And what if he doesn’t come down? Mrs. Trench isn’t a tyrant. She won’t force him to get up and get dressed for an early morning ride if he doesn’t want to. Will I be left kicking my heels on the terrace, a pathetic figure of a father?

Perhaps he can’t forgive me, like I could never forgive my father.

The doors to the terrace creaked open, and Edward flinched. He turned to see Alex, carefully dressed in warm clothes for the cold weather, standing on the step. Mrs. Trench stood behind him, neat as always.

“Go on, Alex,” she whispered, nudging him forward. “Go and join your father.”

Alex shuffled closer and smiled nervously. “Good morning, Papa.”

“Good morning, Alex. I thought it would be nice for us to go on a ride together, just you and me, to talk about some things.”

Alex eyed his father for a long moment, curious and thoughtful.

“I think it will be nice,” he said, at last. “Where will we go?”

“Just to the top of the hill and back,” Edward answered, overcome by a sudden rush of relief.

It was silly, really, to be so relieved that his own son wanted to spend time with him.

A good father wouldn’t be surprised. A good father would already spend enough time with his son, rather than pretend they did not live in the same house together.

The truth was that Miss Belmont’s words to him in the study had shaken him.

If an absolute stranger could see that Edward’s relationship with his son was tenuous, what could the rest of the household see? Was Alex suffering? Was he unhappy?

Am I repeating the mistakes my father made? If so, how can I stop it?

It was time to mount, and Edward watched Alex climb nimbly up into his saddle first. The groom would follow them at a respectful distance, giving the two of them privacy.

Ideally, at least.

“Ready?” Edward asked, turning his horse around.

Alex nodded. “I’m ready, Papa.”

The two of them headed directly up the hill, a stony path that sloped steeper and steeper. There was another path up ahead, one that snaked through the forest, but Edward had already decided that they wouldn’t take it. It was too narrow and rough. Alex was only eight, after all.

Edward had imagined that Alex would chatter about everything and nothing, like he had when he was younger, and Edward would just listen benevolently.

Easy.

But Alex stayed quiet, and the silence stretched out between them.

Don’t be a coward, Edward told himself angrily.

He cleared his throat and spoke. “So, then, Alex. How are you feeling?”

Alex blinked up at him. “Feeling? About what?”

Edward shrugged. “About what happened yesterday. About all of it.”

“Oh, I see.” Alex paused, considering. “Well, I wish I could have joined you for supper.”

“Yes, that was my fault. I thought it wasn’t proper for children to sit at the table, but I guess other people like informal meals, too. You’re going to join us in the future, I promise.”

Alex smiled up at his father. “I’m glad, Papa. And I like Miss Belmont. I like her very much.”

Edward cleared his throat again. “So… you don’t mind my getting married again? It can be a difficult thing for a young boy to accept, I’ve heard. I know Mrs. Trench has explained all of this to you, but it might take time to?—”

“I’m glad you’re marrying Miss Belmont,” Alex interrupted. “I like her, and I think she’ll make an excellent new mama. Do…” He paused uncertainly, glancing up at Edward. “Do you think she’s happy here? Would she have been happier going back to London?”

“I imagine she would have preferred to go back to London,” Edward snorted. “But she was already ruined before she left. Not that she’s a bad woman, of course,” he added hastily, lest his son get any uncomfortable ideas that he might repeat in public. “But she made some mistakes. It’s easy enough to make mistakes, you know.”

Alex seemed to accept this.

Edward privately congratulated himself on navigating a tricky conversation so easily. He glanced down at his son, who was sitting like a seasoned, tiny rider in the saddle, his back straight and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. A wave of affection washed over Edward, so intense that he had to close his eyes for a moment.

My son. My little boy. I’m doing my best with our boy, Jane. Maybe my best isn’t good enough, but I’m trying. I swear to you, I’m trying. I wonder what you see from up there, in Heaven? Do you think I’ve tried hard enough? Are there mistakes I’ve made that can’t be undone, or foolish choices the consequences of which will reverberate for years?

Could I have tried harder? Could I have done better?

Is it too late to fix it?

“Papa,” Alex said, sitting up a little straighter, “can we take the path through the forest?”

Blinking, jerked out of his reverie, Edward glanced down the path in question. They’d reached the crossroads, now. The easy path lay ahead, wide and open, the sun streaming down on flat fields and a smooth road. The easy path ended soon, though. He knew that at the top of the hill, the path ended in a circular, flat clearing, where they could admire the view and then head back down the way they’d come.

The forest path, however, was something else entirely. It was narrower and darker, hung with encroaching branches and undergrowth flopping over the ground, which was broken by stones and raised tree roots. It could be tricky.

He glanced down at Alex, who was looking hopefully up at him.

Edward let out a slow sigh. “All right. We can go that way. Just go carefully, won’t you?”

Alex beamed. “I’ll be careful, Papa! It looks like it’s more fun, though, doesn’t it? Mrs. Trench said that the less traveled road was always the best one to take.”

“Mrs. Trench has probably never trekked through a mountain pass, then,” Edward mumbled, but not loud enough for Alex to hear.

They took the forest path. Almost immediately, it became cooler and darker, the air full of birdsong and mysterious rustling in the undergrowth. A smell of petrichor hung in the air, fresh and sweet.

“Are you looking forward to the wedding, then?” Edward asked, after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t know. Are they nice?”

Edward was a little taken aback by this. “Oh. Well, I suppose you haven’t been to a wedding before. I wouldn’t say they are nice . They’re crowded and busy, and the poor newlyweds don’t even have time to smile at each other. I’ve always felt that weddings are for the guests rather than the couple who are celebrating their wedding. But ours will be different. It will be smaller and quieter, and we can celebrate properly.”

Alex gave him a smile, his face lit up by childish excitement. “Will there be cake?”

Edward bit back a smile.

At last, he looks like a proper eight-year-old, not a serious grown man stuck in a child’s body.

“Of course, there’ll be cake,” he answered. “Lots of it, too. You can eat as much as you want and be sick afterward.”

Alex pulled a face. “I think I will eat a lot, but not enough to be sick. Do you think Miss Belmont likes cake?”

“I would be surprised if she didn’t. Everybody likes cake.”

“Not Grandmother. She hates sweet things. She told me so.”

Edward pursed his lips. “Well, we can’t all be alike, can we?”

Alex considered this. “No, I suppose we can’t.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Edward confirmed that the groom was a good way back, well out of earshot.

Clearing his throat, he urged his horse a little closer to Alex’s. The path was so narrow, so they were forced to ride single file, and Alex had ended up leading the way. At least this way, Edward could keep an eye on him without having to keep twisting around.

“I had hoped to talk to you about something important, Alex.”

The boy twisted around in the saddle. “Am I in trouble, Papa?”

“Trouble? No. We don’t talk a lot, you and I, do we? That’s a pity.”

Alex blinked up at his father, his eyes large and guileless. “It is a pity.”

“Ahem. Well, I wanted to talk to you about the night Miss Belmont arrived. You had… You had run away, hadn’t you? When you met her.”

Alex twisted around in his saddle again, facing forward. “Yes, I had run away. But you mustn’t blame Mrs. Trench. She?—”

“I don’t blame Mrs. Trench. I don’t blame you , either, Alex. I… I just want to know why you ran away. I thought by now you might be ready to tell me.”

Edward forced himself to wait.

The silence stretched out, begging to be filled with words. He eyed his son’s narrow back, hunched over the saddle now.

“You know why, Papa,” Alex said, at last.

“No, I don’t. If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”

“You never ask about things you know about,” Alex muttered, but before Edward could ask him what he meant, the boy was talking again. “I… I thought I would go to London.”

He blinked. “ London ? Why London? You should know that there’s nothing for you there. Nothing for us. Your mother’s dying wish was that I take you away from there.”

Alex hung his head. “But she never said that I couldn’t go back, did she?”

“What do you want to do in London, Alex? Where would you go?”

He drew in a breath. “I’d see Aunt Beatrice, my mother’s sister. And my grandparents. I’ve never seen them.”

Edward said nothing for a long moment, guilt rushing in.

Beatrice had always been at their house, to begin with. Jane adored her sister, and they did everything together. He’d liked Beatrice. She was talkative and confident and clever, and only seemed to laugh at his brusqueness.

But once Jane was gone, things changed. When he retired to the country with baby Alex, he did not invite Beatrice to come. She sent him letters, of course, as did Jane’s parents, but he rarely responded. He dutifully declined all invitations to visit and ignored hints that they would like to visit him . The letters gradually dwindled.

He had heard that Beatrice was married and was said to be very happy. In the few letters she wrote to him now, she always asked about her nephew, eager for any news about him.

“I’m sorry that you’ve never met your aunt,” Edward heard himself say, his voice cracking. “Perhaps one day, you will.”

“Perhaps,” Alex responded flatly.

Instantly, Edward realized that his son did not believe him.

How many promises have I broken to make him distrust me so much?

In a flash, he was back in his study, facing an angry Miss Belmont.

“He loves you dearly, and you didn’t even come to see him tonight, although you’d promised that you would.”

He’d forgotten about the promise he’d made to Alex, so easily spoken, that he’d come up and see him before bed. What had distracted him? Why hadn’t he gone up?

Abruptly, Alex sat up a little straight, spurring his horse forward. For one awful moment, Edward thought his son was trying to run away again, but no, he was just hurrying forward to a large clearing. Their road was blocked by a fallen tree, the log standing at waist height across the path.

“We could jump over it, Papa,” Alex said, his eyes shining. “I’ve been practicing my jumps during my riding lessons. I bet that Bess and I could do it.”

Edward swallowed reflexively. He knew that he and his gelding could manage it, and the mare Alex was riding had made larger jumps before. But Alex was too small, too inexperienced. In a flash, he was standing over his son’s crumpled body in the undergrowth, his neck broken, his eyes blank and lifeless.

He choked.

“No, Alex. We’ll turn back.”

Alex’s face fell. “I can do it, Papa. Ask the groom—I’ve done jumps that high before.”

“Well, you should not. It’s too much for you. Come on, we’re going back.”

“It’s because I’m suffocating,” Alex burst out.

Edward paused, half turning his horse around. “What?”

Alex flushed, but he tilted up his chin and met his father’s eyes. “You don’t want me here. You never did. Everybody knows it, and I know it too. I feel like I’m suffocating—you won’t let me do anything, or go anywhere, or even… even leave the house, even with Mrs. Trench. Nothing ever changes, and I can’t breathe , Papa.”

There was a long silence after that. Alex’s gaze shifted away, his mouth screwing up as if he were going to cry.

Edward moved his horse a little closer and reached out, awkwardly patting Alex on the shoulder.

“I’m… I’m sorry you feel like that, my boy. It’s not intentional. As to visiting your aunt and grandparents, you can’t possibly go now. Not while this scandal is still fresh. People in London can be… cruel. But once all of the gossip has died down, we might go to visit. And we can invite them here for the wedding. Your aunt Beatrice is a close friend of Miss Belmont’s older sister. Would you like that? To have them here?”

Alex sniffed and managed a wobbly smile. “I would like that, Papa.”

Edward let out a shaky sigh of relief. He felt as though he’d maneuvered that situation very well, or as well as could be expected from a man who had no idea what to do with a child.

Perhaps my marrying Miss Belmont is a good idea. Perhaps Alex needs a mother.

Perhaps I need a woman who’ll look me in the eye and tell me the truth, even if it’s difficult.

Clearing his throat again, he removed his hand from Alex’s shoulder. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to offer a hug, but that would be too awkward, on account of them both being in the saddle. Besides, Edward did not like hugs and embraces. His father had never done such a thing, not even once.

“We can talk about the wedding if you like,” Edward heard himself say. “I’m sure Miss Belmont would love to hear your suggestions for the guest list.”

Guest list? My simple, quiet wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m afraid.

“I will,” Alex said, brightening. “And perhaps, after the wedding, I’ll get a new brother or sister. Do you think I will, Papa?”

Edward gulped audibly. “We’ll see.”