Page 28 of Love Thy Enemy (The Vaughns #4)

“I always wanted to be with you.” Clearing her throat, Mrs. Stuart clenched her hands in her lap and glanced toward Wesley, who remained close enough to hear.

“Your father and I did not suit, and we didn’t try hard enough to be peaceable with one another.

My leaving was due to troubles between us, not because I wished to leave you, and I remained away because I believed it was better for you if I did. ”

Gregory prayed that this was the right thing to share. No falsehoods or condemnations, but not the whole truth, either. A smidgen of it. The children required an explanation, but having been dragged into too much of their parents’ troubles already, they didn’t need more details.

“But know that I love you. I have always loved you.” Mrs. Stuart’s eyes brightened with clear signs of the emotion of which she spoke. “I hope you can forgive me for being absent for so long, and that you will allow me the opportunity to know you once more.”

No one spoke, and the silence stretched thin like taffy, lengthening with every heartbeat.

Gregory’s gaze flicked between the children, searching for the smallest shift that signalled their thoughts.

The silence pressed against his ears, loud in its stillness, and he held his breath without realizing it.

Every second that passed strained his nerves further, the question unspoken yet pounding in his mind: would they accept or turn away?

Then Wesley stepped closer. Slowly, he wound his way to the blanket and sat, crossing his legs, and Gregory felt Faith’s muscles relax as Jackson’s posture softened, though neither moved closer to Mrs. Stuart.

None of their reactions was an obvious acceptance, but they signified a beginning.

And with the joy shining in the lady’s eyes, it was clear that she thought this a victory of great proportions.

Turning to one of the hampers, Mrs. Stuart set out the dishes that the kitchen staff had prepared, which featured more than a few sweets and treats (likely far more than was good for the children, but after so many difficulties, it was precisely what was required).

But then she pulled out three parcels wrapped in brown paper and handed one to each of the children.

Faith’s was a large, thin rectangle, and when she didn’t take it, Gregory retrieved it for her, setting it in the girl’s lap.

Wesley accepted his, though his elder brother stared at it a long moment before coming close enough to do the same.

“Another bribe?” asked Jackson, a sharpness to his tone that sounded too much like Clark for Gregory’s liking.

Mrs. Stuart met that with a hesitant smile. “I know you did not want your other presents—”

Wesley’s eyes darted to his brother, and Jackson shook his head. At his side, Faith tensed, and Gregory tightened his arm around her shoulders. She needn’t worry; she wouldn’t be forced to surrender her precious book.

“—but it feels wrong to approach you without a peace offering. Think of it as a belated Christmas.”

The boys stared at the parcels without moving, and it was Faith who first reached for the twine and pulled it free. The brown paper unfurled to reveal a portfolio, which she opened to find several sheets of music.

“I heard you are studying the pianoforte and are quite skilled,” said Mrs. Stuart, her eyes flitting to Gregory’s for a heartbeat with a blaze of gratitude shining in those depths.

Faith straightened with a gasp, her hands hurriedly sifting through the pages. Then, snapping the cover closed, she drew it into her arms, holding it fast as though expecting someone to snatch it from her. And like that, the boys turned their attention to their own offerings.

“Amazing,” gasped Jackson as he pulled out an apothecary’s encyclopedia and immediately began flipping through the pages, examining the diagrams of alembics at work.

And Wesley was no less effusive as he held his sketchbook and drawing pencils aloft, showing them to Faith, who still held her music clutched to her chest.

“And I still have the others, if you wish them,” said Mrs. Stuart, holding out the bag of marbles and penknife. “I don’t know if you play marbles, Wesley, but I do not know a lad who doesn’t. And a young man of learning ought to have a proper penknife.”

Though they paused, it was only a fraction of a heartbeat before the boys accepted them as well and set them alongside their treasures.

Clearing his throat, Gregory drew their attention and nodded toward Mrs. Stuart.

The trio glanced at one another before offering up quiet words of thanks.

Gregory wondered if he ought to encourage more, but Edward’s counsel returned to his thoughts, reminding him that it wasn’t his right to prod.

And with Mrs. Stuart beaming, he didn’t think this moment required it.

This was a beginning. That was enough.

***

The clouds passed lazily through the sky, casting fleeting shadows over the field in slow, dappled waves as the sunlight gilded the tall grasses and wildflowers in gold.

Blankets lay spread across the uneven ground, their edges fluttering in the breeze, while open hampers slumped contentedly beside them—pillaged yet still brimming with food—and the scent of trampled clover and crushed grass lingered in the air, mingling with the sweet trace of summer fruit and flaky pastry.

With three children missing, the afternoon wasn’t perfect, but as Tessa had feared none would accept her olive branch, the day was far better than she had anticipated. This was simply the first step. There was time to win over the others.

And now, her daughter was snuggled into her side as Tessa wove wildflowers together.

“Daphne makes those, too,” whispered Faith.

“I taught her how to make them when she was Eva’s age,” replied Tessa, giving the girl a conspiratorial smile.

Tugging one final knot into place, Tessa completed the crown, and she settled it atop Faith’s head.

Then the girl was stuck in that most difficult of predicaments—wishing to see what she looked like with the adornment but without a looking glass on hand.

There wasn’t even a pond surface to serve that purpose.

“If you are careful, it should last until you arrive home,” said Tessa, and Faith perked.

Turning her gaze to Mr. Vaughn, the child waited, and before Tessa could nudge him toward the proper response, the gentleman’s brows rose as he graced Faith with a warm smile.

“You look lovely,” he said with far more sweetness than Tessa would’ve anticipated from Sir Stoneface. “Quite becoming.”

Faith’s pink cheeks and the smile on her lips betrayed her feelings on the matter, though she tried so very hard to hide them. Then Wesley lifted his sketchbook, shoving it toward Mr. Vaughn.

“What do you think?” he asked, and the gentleman took hold of it, turning the sketch this way and that.

“I don’t know how you managed to capture a cockchafer so well while it was squirming around like that,” said Mr. Vaughn.

Tessa couldn’t help staring at the fellow.

For all his hard edges and stony exterior, Mr. Vaughn was as kind and tender to the children as if he were their own father.

More so than many, in fact. For she knew plenty who wouldn’t bother bestowing that much attention on anything but their newspapers, sports, and bank accounts.

Her own father found more interest in his vices than in his daughter’s accomplishments.

Turning it about so that Tessa could see, Mr. Vaughn displayed the sketch. Though it was certainly a rough job from someone who was only beginning to dabble in such things, it showed great promise.

“I love the way you capture the beetle’s legs,” said Tessa, pointing to one particular area. “That is a difficult angle to draw properly, especially with a live subject.”

Wesley didn’t blush or smile as Faith had done, choosing instead to stare at her for a long moment before taking back the sketchbook and settling it into his lap. The lad didn’t say much to her, but he’d accepted her gifts and remained. That was something.

Meanwhile, Jackson wasn’t aware of anything going on around him, as he was deep into his book, poring over the instructions, though he occasionally pulled free long enough to ask Mr. Vaughn about some detail.

Such a beautiful day. Near perfection. The sort that Tessa had dreamt of for years yet never dared to hope that it would come to pass.

Then her eyes fell to Mr. Vaughn, and she tried to convey the gratitude bubbling up inside her.

Pressing against her ribs, the sentiment squeezed her heart, but Tessa forced herself to keep control.

This was not a time for tears. Even the happy sort.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the hour is growing late,” said Mr. Vaughn.

Tessa’s joy redoubled when the children voiced their disapproval. Of course, she knew it was just as likely a byproduct of a child’s wish never to accept an order without a great deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth, but Tessa held tight to the hope that it meant they did not wish to leave her.

Mr. Vaughn rose to his feet, offering her a hand, and Tessa stared at it only a moment before accepting the assistance.

Being married but alone, she’d learned not to expect gallantry.

For all that many claimed such decorum was common amongst all men, Tessa knew too well that most manners were more often trotted out for mothers, wives, sisters, and sweethearts and overlooked in any other circumstances.

Leaving the blankets and hampers for the servants to fetch home, the children took their presents in hand as the group wound their way through the meadow.

Mr. Vaughn kept pace with Tessa, and though Faith remained at their side for a little while, the opportunity to try her new music was too great a pull, and the girl chased after her brothers.

And once they were alone, Tessa glanced at the gentleman at her side. “Thank you, Mr. Vaughn. This has been a wonderful day.”

Nodding, he turned a pleased grin in her direction. “And the others will come around.”

Tessa nodded. “I have waited years to see them again, and I will happily wait years more as long as there is hope.”

And as much as the older pair’s reactions pained her, Tessa felt the rightness of her words. She knew them to be true. If Mr. Vaughn thought it possible, she would trust in the man who cared only about their well-being.

They walked beneath the shelter of the trees, the branches arching overhead like a vaulted ceiling, green and shifting with the breeze.

The path was narrow, winding gently through thickets of hazel and hawthorn, and somewhere in the distance, a bird called out, answered by another deeper in the wood, their voices lilting above the rustle of the canopy.

And as their footsteps moved in tandem, a hush fell between them, not uncomfortable but contemplative, like the quiet that followed honest conversation.

Yet as she considered the gentleman at her side, Tessa wondered if she ought to mention something that had been pricking at her all afternoon.