Page 28 of Savage Blooms (Unearthly Delights #1)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Robert

Robert pushed up on his toes to reach the Christmas ornament, tantalizingly just out of his reach.

It was the sort of blue he only saw on the gleaming heads of the mallard ducks who paddled in the nearby loch.

He was so close, close enough that the tips of his fingers gently brushed the rough stripe of silver glitter latticed over the cold glass.

He had thought about asking his mother to help him reach it, but he wanted to do it himself.

Besides, she was distracted talking to one of her friends with a full glass of eggnog in her hand. He would only bother her.

“Cheeeeese!” Arabella sang, offering a big smile to the photographer. Once the camera clicked and the photographer gave her a thumbs-up, she stumbled backwards in satisfied delight, right into Robert.

Robert jostled into the tree and the ornament crashed to the ground, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.

“Oh!” Arabella said in distress. “I’m sorry, Robbie, I—”

“Robert.”

Robert tensed up as his father strode over, his lips pursed in disapproval beneath his mustache.

Robert was usually good at keeping track of wherever his father was in the house, even having memorized the sound of his footfalls, but now, he appeared out of nowhere.

Robert loved his father very much and he never wanted to upset him, but he was also a little bit afraid of him, which is how the minister had said children ought to feel about their parents.

“Daddy, he didn’t mean to,” Arabella said, puffing out her chest like a little gorilla wearing hair ribbons. “I fell into him, and he just—”

“Let him take responsibility for his own actions,” their father said. He hadn’t raised his voice, but then again, he never had to for Robert to be devastated. “Robbie, did you break that ornament?”

“Yes,” Robert said, bringing his thumb to his mouth before remembering that, at eight, he was far too old to be sucking on his thumb.

“You’ll clean it up, then. Arabella, go get the broom and the dustpan from the kitchen.”

Robert waited for his sister to rush down the hallway before he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lip wobbling.

“Hey now,” his father said, a little more gently as he clasped Robert’s shoulder in his big hand. “No need to go to pieces over an accident, all right? Men fix what they break, they don’t cry about it.”

“All right,” Robert said, swallowing down the tears. “I only wanted to hold it.”

“They’re just glass and glitter, Robbie, that’s all. Clean this up and I’ll get you something better.”

“All right,” Robert repeated as his sister appeared with the broom.

He dutifully swept up the shattered glass, not missing a single piece, even kneeling down to sweep under the tree skirt for good measure.

The party swirled on around him, without anyone taking much notice of a child doing penance over something as silly as an ornament.

Still, his face burned with embarrassment.

He wanted so badly to be good, but he always ended up doing something wrong anyway.

“There we are,” his father said, taking the dustpan and broom from Robert’s small hands as soon as the cleaning, which felt like it had gone on for an eternity, was done.

“Mind your footing better next time, eh? And Belle, don’t jostle your brother like that.

He’s littler than you. You’ll knock him over. ”

“All right!” Arabella chirped, then ran off to go crawl into their mother’s lap and steal a sip of eggnog.

Their mother welcomed her without missing a beat, smoothing her hair as she continued to gossip with her friends.

There were fewer people at the party this year, Robert noticed, and there had been fewer people last year than the year before that.

Did the grown-ups not want to drive out to the big house from the cities any more?

Or were his parents simply not as well liked as they once had been?

“I promised you something better, didn’t I?” his father asked. He was a tall, broad man, with wide shoulders and a square jaw and a gut. Robert, who was short for his age and scrawny besides, wondered if he would ever grow up to be so strong.

“You did,” Robert said, hope coming to life in his chest.

His father pointed with the broom to one of the countless presents under the tree, a hefty rectangular box wrapped in gold-foiled scarlet paper and decorated with a velvet bow.

“That one’s for you.”

“But it’s not Christmas yet,” Robert said, confused and scandalized and thrilled all at the same time.

“Christmas Eve is close enough,” his father said, giving him a conspiratorial wink. “Go on. Open it up.”

Robert didn’t have to be told twice. He set upon the present with frenzied enthusiasm, tearing away the wrapping and tugging off the lid until he discovered, with a squeal of delight, that there was a teddy bear inside.

Robbie clutched his newest friend to his chest, relishing in its softness.

The fur was caramel-colored and curly, and it looked just like the one in the shop window he had seen when his father took him along on a business trip to Glasgow.

“He’s mine?” Robert asked, grinning wide as could be.

“He’s yours,” his father said, reaching down to ruffle his blond hair.

His sister and his parents all had dark hair.

Whenever people got confused his father always quickly corrected them, saying that Robert was adopted and just as much a part of their family as Arabella was.

“Make sure you give him a proper name. Now go on enjoy the rest of the party.”

Robert did enjoy the rest of the party, very much, even when Arabella cheated at jacks and their mother took her side in the dispute.

He kept enjoying himself as the adults began to wrap themselves in coats and furs and make lingering goodbyes in the foyer while the cars warmed up outside.

He was still enjoying himself as his eyes began to droop, and as he perched himself at the top of the stairs to wait for Arabella to come up to bed.

There was no point in trying to sleep when she would be going through her noisy girlish bedtime rituals next door, tossing her hairpins into a ceramic dish and kicking her shoes across the room.

Besides, he wanted to hug her goodnight.

Robert finger-combed his teddy’s curly fur as he waited.

He hadn’t let go of the bear, whom he had decided to name Tammany – Tam for short – all night long.

His mother drifted by downstairs, removing her earrings with a sigh.

His father appeared moments later, and stopped behind her to loop an arm around her waist and kiss her shoulder.

Robert was mostly hidden by the banister from this angle, and he didn’t think they could see him.

His parents talked in low voices, murmuring to each other, until his father pulled away and said, loud enough for Robert to hear. “He’ll adjust. He just needs time.”

“It’s been six years,” his mother responded. “I worry he won’t adjust, not completely.”

“The agency said that happens sometimes. He’s his own person, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s bright, and he adores Arabella. Would you rather we be raising a child with nothing between his ears?”

Robert froze with his thumb in his mouth, a jolt of guilt shooting through his stomach. Were they talking about him? Were they mad at him?

“I know you love him as much as I do,” his mother said with a sigh. “I just feel guilty some days. It isn’t fair of us, to trap another woman’s child out here.”

“That woman could barely take care of herself, let alone a little boy,” Robert’s father said, with a sharpness in his voice Robert only heard when he talked about Catholics, or criminals.

“We did him a good turn. A sibling was all Belle wanted, and it was the one thing we couldn’t give her, for all our trying. ”

Robert’s mother fell silent, wrapping her pashmina tighter around her shoulders. She sniffled, and Robert’s father strode forward to enfold her in his arms.

“I’ve never blamed you for any of it,” he said softly, almost too softly for Robert to hear. “You know that. We’re all doing the best we can. Let’s go upstairs and put the little ones to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Robert scrambled up as quietly as he could and tiptoed down the hallway to his room, just managing not to get caught. He yanked off his trousers and pressed shirt and tiny bow tie, then shrugged on an oversized sleep shirt before clambering into bed.

He lay there in the dark, surrounded by wooden trains and countless adventure books, his new teddy bear clutched to his chest, but despite all his toys and the rustling of his parents’ feet just beyond his door, he felt like the loneliest boy in the world.